There are days when reading Scripture does not bring comfort—it brings confrontation.
Psalm 85 speaks of restoration and peace. Exodus 3 tells of God hearing the cries of enslaved people. Hebrews 11 celebrates faith that endures. John 14 offers the assurance that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. And yet, when I hold these texts next to the reality of history and the world we inhabit, my heart aches with questions.
Four hundred and fifty years of slavery in Egypt.
The Trail of Tears and the violence inflicted on Native peoples.
The enslavement of African Americans and the long shadow it still casts.
A world still riddled with oppression, abuse, and injustice.
How do we trust God when evil seems so persistent and suffering so prolonged?
Scripture does not silence this question. It gives it language.
A Cry That Refuses to Be Quiet – Psalm 85
Psalm 85 is a prayer born from trauma, not comfort. The psalmist remembers God’s past faithfulness but stands in the present ache of unfinished healing:
“Will you not revive us again,
that your people may rejoice in you?” (Psalm 85:6)
This is not denial. It is lament. The psalm does not declare that justice has fully arrived; it dares to hope that it will. The promise that “steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss” (v. 10) is not yet a description—it is a vision.
When confronted with injustice, our first faithful response is not explanation, but lament. To grieve wrongs done to others is to refuse to normalize them.
A God Who Sees, Hears, and Knows – Exodus 3
The story of Moses unsettles me. God’s people suffered under Egyptian slavery for generations before deliverance came. God says to Moses:
“I have surely seen the affliction of my people… I have heard their cry… I know their sufferings.” (Exodus 3:7)
God does not minimize the pain or justify the delay. Instead, God reveals something costly: divine compassion is real, but divine action often comes through human obedience.
God’s response to injustice is not only power—it is calling. “So come, I will send you” (v. 10). This means that faith is not passive. When we cry out to God about evil, we must be prepared for God to ask where we are willing to stand, speak, and risk.
Faith That Refuses Complicity – Hebrews 11
Hebrews 11 reframes faith in uncomfortable ways. Moses is praised not for miracles, but for choice:
“He chose to share the oppression of God’s people rather than enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.” (Hebrews 11:25)
Faith here is not escape from suffering—it is refusal to benefit from injustice. This chapter acknowledges that many faithful people did not see justice fully realized in their lifetimes. Faith is not rewarded with ease; it is sustained by hope.
When we witness injustice today, faith calls us to examine where we benefit from systems that harm others—and to choose solidarity instead of comfort.
Jesus Does Not Explain Evil—He Enters It – John 14
When Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), he is not offering a tidy answer to suffering. He is offering himself.
Jesus does not remain distant from oppression. He lives under empire, speaks truth to power, and is executed by injustice. When he says, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (v. 9), he reveals a God who does not watch suffering from afar but bears it.
Trusting God does not mean trusting that evil is acceptable. It means trusting that God is present in resistance, in grief, in costly love, and in the slow work of redemption.
How Then Shall We Respond?
These Scriptures guide us toward faithful responses in a broken world:
1. Lament without apology.
Grief is not faithlessness. It is love refusing to be indifferent.
2. Refuse to justify injustice.
Evil does not become good because it is old, legal, or widespread.
3. Choose costly solidarity.
Like Moses, faith often means stepping away from privilege to stand with the oppressed.
4. Trust God’s presence more than quick outcomes.
Justice may be slow, but God is never absent.
5. Follow Jesus in truth and love.
Jesus is the way—not around suffering, but through it.
A Hope That Still Speaks
I do not trust God because the world is just. I trust God because God sees injustice clearly, condemns it consistently, and promises it will not have the final word.
Faith does not erase the pain of history or the wounds of the present. It keeps us from surrendering to despair. It calls us to live as witnesses to a better kingdom—one where righteousness and peace will finally meet.
Until that day, we pray. We speak. We act. And we walk the way of Christ, believing that love is stronger than cruelty, and that God is still at work—even when the work is unfinished.
The Curious Pilgrims 