On Duty
Most people dread it: the jury summons. The innocuous-looking little postcard informs us of an impending impingement on our preferred rhythms of life.
I got mine on August 10th. I had been slated as a prospective juror for this week, September 12-16. I filled out my juror questionnaire and received a juror reporting number. And then, I waited.
I waited until last Saturday to find out whether I had to report on Monday. I was deferred, and instructed to call at 5pm on Monday to find out if I would report on Tuesday. I waited.
Calling in on Monday night, I was put on stand-by, instructed to call at (but not before) 9:30a on Tuesday morning to find out if I was needed by 10:15a in room 4117. I waited.
I drove part way to the courthouse Tuesday morning and waited in a coffee shop, so I’d be close by if asked to report. At 9:30a, I called the number reserved for stand-by jurors. I was told they still didn’t know… they’d call me in 15 minutes. So, I waited some more.
I spent a great deal of time waiting to hear whether I would play a role in meting out justice. And yet, this is a role I’m called to fill every day of my life.
He has told you, O man, what is good;
And what does the LORD require of you
But to do justice, to love kindness,
And to walk humbly with your God?
–Micah 6:8 ESV
What the Lord requires of me. To do justice.
Justice —
that which is lawful, required; in accordance with a proper standard; doing what is right.
Not just lawful, more than that: doing what is right. And the standard for that isn’t my own. It’s God’s standard, because He is the God of justice (Isaiah 30:18).
Doing justice isn’t convenient. It costs something. In jury duty, it costs the juror the opportunity to earn their daily wages, or missing a child’s performance at school or athletic event. In the Christian life, the price can take many forms, financial or otherwise. As one who has been spared the wages of my sin, any cost seems too small. As long as I stop to think of it in those terms… His terms.
As I waited in the coffee shop, I was aware of a man who was clearly in need. His appearance revealed a need for money, but his behavior revealed an even greater need for companionship. He, too, was waiting. He was waiting to hear whether he’d be hired for a day labor job, and was eager to converse with anyone in the meantime. I am ashamed because I don’t know these things because I was willing to talk with him. I know them because I overheard his dialog with another latte-sipping, book-reading patron – one who was willing to do what I wasn’t.
I fell short of doing justice. I averted my eyes, my thoughts, when it was fully within my ability to meet his need by simply engaging with him. The cost to me was smaller than in almost any such situation: words and a smile. And yet I was still unwilling to make that simple sacrifice. I waited for my call to the Ada County Courthouse while I ignored the call to the next table.
I didn’t serve Ada County this week; my services were not required. Nor did I serve my God. And my services were very much required. My juror summons card now hangs on the bulletin board, the last thing I see as I walk out the door, sending me out to do justice every day.
One of my favorite organizations that addresses social justice: International Justice Mission