Justice, Hope, and George
330 Days
That's how long it took for the family of George Floyd to receive the justice they sought out and deserved. There have been shed tears and broken hearts in the aftermath of Floyd's death. Over the course of those 330 days, our country has had lockdowns, elections, protests, and riots. America has undergone serious changes from top to bottom. On Tuesday, thousands of protestors across the nation stood outside the Minneapolis and millions more tuned to the television screens across the globe in hopes of hearing one word: guilty.
I could not tell you how happy I was to hear that word not one but three times. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Justice has been served, and the pursuit of equality has been forwarded. The jury's decision proved a historic outcome in a historic case. Court TV (my non-biased network of choice during the case) said that this verdict has brought the most eyes to the screen since OJ Simpson's infamous court case nearly twenty-six years ago. To see the tears of joy run down the eyes of Black fathers, mothers, families, and friends on screen was a beautiful moment I'll never forget.
Yet there's a question that sits in the minds of many today, what happens now? What's the next move? Where do we go from here? How long does the joy of yesterday's victory last? A week? Month, maybe? The American justice gave their answer in the case of George Floyd and Derek Chauvin, but what do the citizens of America pursuing equality do now? Politics is still polarized. Social media still influences the culture more than anything else. Injustice still runs rampant like a pizza stench in my car's backseat on a hot April day. It's not going to go away. So, what do we do?
False Hope in a Material World
It was only fitting this morning that the poem I read from Paul Tripp's My Heart Cries Out touched on the inabilities of the material world to satisfy the desires of our hearts. Growing up in church, that was a subject talked about on a routine basis. My fellow FBC Little Rock homies and I knew in our minds that the money would fade, the fame would never last, and the Word of God would remain forever. It took much longer for us to understand that in our hearts.
But this morning, I wasn't thinking about money. I wasn't thinking about fame. I wasn't thinking about the memories I've built in college that will eventually fade from my mind's eye. I was thinking about George. I was thinking about his family. I was thinking about his daughter. They got the justice they hoped for. The decision came out in their favor. They received the best case scenario in the case. But what? Mr. Floyd is still not here. He's still no longer with us. Yes, his memory lives on, but he is not able to share with his beloved daughter in the beauty of served justice. He won't see her high school graduation, wedding day, or the arrival of her first child.
While court decisions are not material objects, they come from a material world. The joy of justice will last for a little while, but the jury cannot rewrite the story. They can't reverse the action that took place 331 days ago. They can't bring George back to life. It's like what Madonna sings in her 1984 pop hit "Material Girl":
"'Cause everybody's living in a material world, and I am a material girl."
No material thing can produce joy. Nothing I can hold in my hands can bring joy to my longing heart. Nothing I've paid for will give me joy.
Regardless of your thoughts on the former pop star, her simple message aligns with Tripp. They both highlight the problem of the world that surrounds us. It's all going to fall away eventually, no matter how hard we try, but I'd like to take the material nature one step further.
In this material world, there are material people who are material jurors, material lawyers, and material judges. They compose material courtrooms. They give material verdicts and material justice. No, not verdicts and justice that you can hold in your hand, but verdicts and justice that will eventually fade away. We can rejoice with confidence over the victories of today, but we cannot put our hope or place our trust in the American justice system. It does not matter what side of the political spectrum you are on. We will always end up disappointed. So, what do we do?
Lasting Hope and Joy in God's World
Joy and contentment celebrate what is. Discontentment meditates on what could be. May [we] have the grace to see your providing hand, to love the giver more than the gift, and may the worship of my heart produce what created things can't-- last, robust, contented, sturdy, vertical, internal joy.
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