I don’t know if I see real justice in the world.
I see what some call justice,
but it is justice for the sake of winning,
not justice for the sake of truth.
I see anger in the streets,
force from the government,
voices shouting past one another—
and none looks like the justice God desires.
And maybe that’s why the Gospel matters so much today.
Because there’s a moment in every disciple’s life
when God widens the frame—
when the small truth we were holding
opens into something larger,
something more generous
than we ever expected.
Scripture shows it again and again.
God revealing Himself
not just to the insiders,
but to shepherds, to foreigners,
to the poor,
to the ones the world forgets.
And that’s the invitation:
to let God stretch our vision
the way He stretched theirs.
To see that grace is never a private treasure.
It’s a gift that wants to move outward,
a gift that grows only when shared.
And here is the deeper truth:
God’s justice is in all true justice.
Not the loud kind,
not the destructive kind,
not the kind that humiliates or harms.
True justice begins with this simple belief—
every person carries the image of God.
Every life has dignity.
True justice seeks the common good—
the flourishing of all.
It rejects the chaos that tears down society
and the power that crushes the vulnerable.
The common good needs order,
but it also needs compassion.
It needs laws,
but also mercy.
It needs security,
but never at the cost of human dignity.
Justice also carries two companions:
solidarity, which reminds us we belong to one another,
and subsidiarity, which reminds us that power must serve people,
not dominate them.
This is where Jesus’ words guide us:
“Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,
and to God what is God’s.”
Give the world what belongs to the world—
your honesty, your responsibility, your civic duty.
But give God what belongs to God—
your conscience, your compassion,
your commitment to the dignity of every person.
So how do we render justice in a world like ours?
We refuse violence from any side.
We refuse to dehumanize anyone.
We let the Gospel—not politics—shape our conscience.
We stand with the vulnerable,
we lift up the lowly,
and we let our faith take flesh
in mercy, in solidarity,
in the simple courage
to show up for one another.
Because when God widens the frame,
He isn’t just revealing more of Himself.
He’s revealing who we’re meant to become.
Prayer
Lord, Widen the frame of my heart
until I see as You see.
Where the world shouts for victory,
teach me the quiet work of truth.
Where anger rises, plant Your mercy.
Where power crushes, lift the lowly.
Let Your justice—gentle, steadfast, shared—
take flesh in me today,
that I may honor Your image in every person.
Amen
