We all say we love justice—especially when someone else gets what they deserve. When a reckless driver gets pulled over, we celebrate; but when we’re the ones getting the ticket, justice suddenly feels less appealing. The truth is, we love justice selectively. We cheer when others are held accountable but grow quiet when the spotlight turns toward us. As I wrote this sermon, the nation was watching the George Floyd trial, waiting anxiously for the verdict—some celebrated the outcome, others didn’t. Moments like that reveal how deeply we long for justice, and how often justice in this world is uneven, incomplete, or delayed. But this week’s passage forces us to confront an even deeper reality: the justice we deserve is rarely the justice we receive. And that truth feels especially sobering as we watch the Roman soldiers celebrate their version of justice by beating and mocking Jesus—the only truly innocent man to ever live.
