Justice Floats

This one time, at youth camp in Florida, we decided it would be a good idea to swim with the dolphins…

…in what could have been classified as a minor hurricane.

I exaggerate, but it’s only because of past trauma.

There we were, standing at the back of the boat- a bunch of teenagers, Cindy, our fearless (up to that point) leader, a few parent volunteers, and a boatload of other tourists – too excited to wonder if this was a good idea. A looped rope was cast out behind the boat, and we were told to jump in within the perimeter of our rope fence. THEN came the waves… I mean tsunami. Like an ocean-deep wave pool, but, instead of lifeguards, there were panicky swimmers.

I distinctly remember crazed fathers trying to get to their fearful, screaming children. I also remember their survival instincts kicking in with a roar, as they repeatedly pushed me under, threw me aside, and tried to use me to propel themselves toward their children. They were trying to save their kids. I felt like they were trying to drown me. Survival, stress and swimming bring out the most extreme parts of us.

The world, and every fiber of my being, says, “Sink or swim.”

But Justice Floats.

I’ve been thinking about my actions, my mindset, and the real motives of my heart this week. I can easily slip into the mindset of a parent trying to get to mine, at the mercy of any bobbing body- just like anybody else. I can push aside the pain and priorities of others, staying focused on my heart’s desire- maybe more than anybody else.

My selfishness and self-righteousness are like brutal weapons and agonizing weight…

They are the very splinters that bore down on my Savior’s bleeding shoulders as he slumped up that hill.

They are the death-weight I try to pick up every day – fulfilling the curse of that  murderous tree my Savior was nailed to.

They are enough to sink a Savior.

Spitting, seething, sneering sinners: We chose to sink our Savior by waving him high on a hill.

The Savior went under – without coming up for air.

FOR THREE DAYS.

And He didn’t rise up spitting, snotting and gasping for air like I did that one time I got pulled out of the wave pool at Water World.

He overcame the depths with eternal life.

He took justice unto His own hands.

And His feet.

One nail at a time.

And He stretched those sinless arms wide to receive the full, sinking weight of my sin, completely severing Himself from holiness.

And that’s what does it. Separation from holiness sinks us.

But Holiness woke up and walked out of that tomb.

He didn’t give swim lessons. He became the flotation device.

In Christ, the deadweight of the orphaned, the widow, the prostitute, the addict, the poor and the pious can be cut off like the anchor’s chain.

But no one… NO ONE can swim themselves to the shores of holy. I can’t achieve healed. I can’t reach whole.

Justice came down. Justice went down. Justice rose again.

Paid in full. Holy. Healed. Whole.

I try to amend, make better, or even just do something right.

And Justice begs me to cut the anchor line.

Justice bids to me to the only place that makes sense… on top of the water.

Sure-footed and eyes locked on Salvation, the see-through, wavy, immeasurable depth below me goes unnoticed.

Justice is sure. And solid. And perfectly balanced on supernatural scales.

Justice floats.

Justice isn’t delivered like blows to a backside with a wooden instrument. It wouldn’t be enough. Nothing could rectify me or you like that one blow, on that one wooden instrument, delivered to the One Savior.

It doesn’t come like a heavy hand or a steel rod when it comes for His Family. It comes like the running, rejoicing father in Luke 15. Or like a 40-year desert walk, being sustained by day-by-day mystery meals, until we remember that He is Lord.

It comes to do whatever it must to prevent us from thinking we could ever swim our way out of it. It comes to bring Life and to bring us Home.

It defies logic, gravity, reasoning, instinct, reflex and every bone in this body.

Justice Floats.