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WHEN LIFE ISN'T FAIR
by Joni Erickson Tada
Where is God when things fall apart?
March 26, 1976, was a beautiful Friday morning in Los Angeles. But for Vicky Olivas it was a grim reminder of
happier, brighter mornings before her husband broke his marriage vows and left Vicky alone to care for
two-year-old Arturo. Shaken and facing an uncertain future, Vicky picked up her purse and headed to her car for a job interview. She had to start somewhere.
Vicky had difficulty finding the address the employment agency had given. There were only factories in the general
neighborhood. She debated about forgetting it and just going home. But after showing the address to a passerby,
she found the building, parked her car, and walked down an alley to the last door on the right.
The door was unlocked. She stepped into a dim front office. She saw dust on the typewriter. The floor was
strewn with papers. A damp, closed-in smell filled the place. I hope I don't get this job, she thought. Peeking
around a corner, she called, "Hello . . . is someone here?" She cautiously made her way down a hallway that
opened into a warehouse, where she found two men sitting at a desk.
After a few introductions, the man behind the desk-obviously the boss-leaned back and looked Vicky over.
Suddenly she was aware of her peach pantsuit. She felt the weight of her waist-long hair. She blinked her eyes, her
lashes false and feathered and heavy. Everything seemed weighted under his stare. They discussed resumŽs and
applications. Vicky was directed back to the front office to fill out more forms-she was relieved to be away from
the warehouse and near the front door. I shouldn't be here . . . something's not right, she nervously thought as she
filled in her address and social security number.
At that point the boss entered the room, closed the door behind him, and clicked the lock. A chill shot up Vicky's
spine, but she dismissed it as nerves. The boss led her to a side hallway in another warehouse. It was then the
nightmare began.
The man grabbed Vicky around her chest, throwing her against the wall. She hit a toolchest and stumbled. "I
asked them to send somebody just like you," he hissed, grabbing her blouse and ripping it. Vicky wrestled harder,
straining to push him away. Suddenly, a bang! The room and the man spiraled round and round as Vicky slumped
to the floor. She was paralyzed. Panicking, the man dragged her into a bathroom, her face rubbing against the cold
tiles, which reeked of urine and filth. Something wet, warm, and red trickled down her neck. Dizzy . . . faint . . .
now where is he taking me? Is he going to kill me? Dump my body? she wondered, half-conscious as he dragged
her to a car.
In a crazy turnabout, the man dumped her off at the emergency room of a nearby hospital and then fled. While
doctors worked on her,
Vicky told the whole story to a policewoman. Nobody believed her until the police went back to the warehouse
and found her purse, blood, and a gun in the trash pail. The man was arrested.
The story sounds like a television movie-of-the-week, but it is not fiction. And the ending has an even sadder
twist. The attacker-who had three other convictions of attempted rape-was released after three years in jail. Vicky
will spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair, completely paralyzed.
Injustice by Design
I first met Vicky at a rehab clinic. When I wheeled up to her, I was deeply moved by the anguish on her face. You
can understand. You don't even have to be paralyzed. She's sentenced to a wheelchair for life and the criminal goes
scot-free. She could have written Ps. 73:3-4, "For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
They have no struggles; their bodies are healthy and strong."
Maybe you could write the same. And those you envy may not even be arrogant or wicked! You could be a
devoted young mother who must watch her two-year-old die slowly of cancer while other parents worry about
their children's scratched knees and bruised elbows. You could be a 39-year-old single woman who has served
God faithfully for years, and who desires to have a partner; yet it's your spiritually shallow 25-year-old friend who
weds a wonderful, godly man. You could be a hard-working salesman who holds fast to good ethics, but a
conniving co-worker cheats his way to the top, receiving praise and promotion.
Life isn't fair. It's full of injustice. Inequities hit us from all sides. The odd thing is, God has designed it this way.
Ephesians 1:11 says that "in him [the young mother, the single woman, and the salesman] were also chosen, having
been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything [children with cancer, girls who get all the
blessings, and conniving co-workers] in conformity with the purpose of his will." And when it comes to convicted
rapists, "the LORD works out everything for his own ends-even the wicked for a day of disaster" (Prov. 16:4,
emphasis added).
Exactly why God has designed it this way has been the subject of theological books throughout the ages, and I'm
not about to solve it in this short article. But a hint as to the "whys and wherefores" behind injustices, insults, and
injuries may be found in Eph. 1:12: "in order that we . . . might be for the praise of his glory." Cut and dried. Short
and simple. It's all for our good and His glory.
God's Perspective on It All
"It's all for our good and His glory? You've got to be kidding." This truth almost added
insult to Vicky's injury. It was like rubbing salt into the open wound on her neck. As she
flipped through the pages of her Bible with her mouthstick, the message was the same.
Wherever she looked, Scripture was replete with what sounded like God's
bravado-He's in charge for our good and His glory, so snap out of it and learn to
"rejoice in suffering!"
It's difficult enough to swallow Eph. 1: 11-12 when you're hurting, but add injustice or
"unfairness" and you really choke!
But wait. Scripture seems to present us with a view of life from the eternal perspective.
This perspective separates what is transitory from what is lasting. What is transitory, such as injustice, unfairness,
and pain, will not endure. What is lasting, such as the eternal weight of glory accrued from that pain, will remain
forever. Everything else-numbing heartache, deep disappointment, and blatant injustice-everything else, no matter
how real it seems to us on earth, is treated as inconsequential. Hardships are hardly worth noticing.
The Apostle Paul had this perspective when he said, "For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an
eternal glory that far outweighs them all" (2 Cor. 4:17). And regarding his own experiences with injustice, he added,
"I consider them rubbish" (Phil. 3:8). Wait a minute. Did he say, "Troubles, light"? "Inequities, rubbish"?
The Apostle Peter had this perspective, too, when he wrote to Christian friends being flogged and beaten. "In this
you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials" (1 Pet. 1:6).
Rejoice? When you're cheated out of a fair trial and thrown to lions? The apostle expected believers to view their
problems as lasting . . . a little while? What sort of wristwatch was he using?
These verses did not, at first, comfort Vicky when she and I began to study the Bible together. In fact, this kind of
biblical nonchalance about gut-wrenching suffering used to drive her crazy. She wondered, Lord, I will never walk
again. I've got a leaky legbag. . . . I smell like urine. . . . My back aches. Maybe You see all of this achieving an
eternal glory, but all I see is one awful day after the next of life in this stinking wheelchair. It's not fair! Especially
now that awful man is out of jail and back on the streets!
Our pain and sense of fairness always scream for our undivided attention, insisting, "Forget the future! What's God
going to do to make it right now?" Time does that. It rivets our attention on temporal things. And suffering doesn't
make it any easier. It tightens the screw on the moment, making us anxious to find quick fix-its, escape hatches, or
fair and just solutions. That's what it was like for Vicky as she pitied her plight in her wheelchair. And the fact that
her attacker escaped real justice only weighted the scales against God. When she read in Ro. 5:3, "rejoice in our
sufferings," her first thought was, Sure, God, I'll rejoice the day You make things fair! And if You don't, what's
going on? Are You trying to convince me I'm in spiritual denial? That my hurt and pain are imaginary? When it
came to her affliction being light and momentary, God was obviously using a different dictionary.
The Lord, however, does not use a different lexicon when He picks words like "light and momentary" to define
earthly inequities. Even if it means being sawn asunder, torn apart by lions, or shot in the neck like Vicky and
plopped in a wheelchair for the rest of one's life. The Spirit-inspired writers of the Bible simply had a different
perspective, an end-of-time view. Tim Stafford says, "This is why Scripture can seem at times so blithely and
irritatingly out of touch with reality, brushing past huge philosophical problems and personal agony. But that is just
how life is when you are looking from the end. Perspective changes everything. What seems so important at the
time has no significance at all."
It's a matter of perspective. The scales of justice are meant to tip off kilter on earth. Our unsatisfied sense of
human fairness is not meant to be balanced. But that's good; it is to our benefit that we are not satisfied in a world
destined for decay. "Therefore we do not lose heart," 2 Cor. 4:16 says. "For our light and momentary troubles are
achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all" (2 Cor. 4:17, emphasis added). What could possibly
outweigh the pain of permanent paralysis? The pain of a life of singleness? The loss of a child from cancer? "We fix
our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" (2
Cor. 4:18, emphasis added). The greater weight of eternal glory is clear: One day the scales of justice will not only
balance, but they will be weighted heavily-almost beyond comprehension-to our good and God's glory. It will mean
. . .
Greater glory to God.
A new appreciation for the justice of God-not fairness, but justice.
The final destruction of death, disease, and devilish men. The vindication of God's holy Name. The restoration of
all things under Christ.
This means an eternal weight of glory for the young mother who holds fast to God's grace as she watches her
two-year-old die of cancer. It means a richer reward for the single woman who perseveres patiently. It means a
more exalted eternal estate for the salesman who holds fast to ethics.
And these things outweigh thousands of afternoons of not feeling or moving for Vicky and me. Mind you, I'm not
saying that cancer or singleness or my paralysis or Vicky's plight are light in and of themselves. Paralysis,
disappointment in marriage, or cancer only become light in contrast to the far greater weight on the other side of the
scale. And although I wouldn't normally call almost 20 years in a wheelchair "momentary," it is when you realize that
Vicky, you, and I are only "a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes" (Jas. 4:14).
Looking at Life from the End
Scripture is constantly trying to get us to look at life this way. Our life is but a blip on the eternal screen. Pain will be
erased by a greater understanding; it will be eclipsed by a glorious result. Something so superb, so grandiose is
going to happen at the world's finale, that it will suffice for every hurt, atone for every heartache, and make right
every injustice. It also helps to know that the state of suffering we are in here is necessary to reach the state we
want (more accurately, God wants!) in heaven.
This is why Jesus spent so much energy emphasizing the end-of-time perspective. The Lord had come from
heaven, and He knew how wonderful it was. Thus, He was always focusing on end results-the harvest of the crop,
the fruit from the tree, the close of the day's labor, the profit from the investment, the house that stands the storm.
He knew if we were to rejoice in our suffering, our absorption with the here and now would have to be subdued.
How else could He say to those who mourn, "You are blessed"? How else could He tell the persecuted to be
happy? How else could He remind His followers facing torture and death to "count it all joy"?
Nothing more radically altered the way Vicky looked at her suffering than leapfrogging to this end-of-time vantage point. In
fact, she began to wonder how other people could possibly face quadriplegia, cancer, or even a death in the family without
such a perspective. It meant no more wallowing away hours, scorning Ro. 8:28 and muttering, "How can it say all things fit
together into a pattern for good in my life!" God's pattern for her earthly good may have smelled like urine and felt painful, but
she knew the end result in heaven would exude a fragrant and glorious aroma: Christ in her, the hope of glory.
It's all a matter of time. God makes all things beautiful in His time (Eccl. 3:11). Many won't see the beauty until the end of
time. But time will solve the dilemma of Ro. 8:28, as well as all the other problems of evil, injustice, suffering, and pain.
All's just in the end.
Whenever I have a tough day and need to be reminded of such things, I give my friend Vicky Olivas a call. She is the one who
now often counsels me, reminding me, "Joni, fairness isn't the issue . . . God's justice is. One day He'll make it all plain. In the
meantime, we trust Him. And we pray . . . just like I pray for that man who attacked me."
She's right. One day her true-grit faith will turn up the wattage on God's glory. Her perseverance in paralysis will pay off in
eternal dividends. And unless he comes to Christ, her attacker will be crushed like a grape under the wrath of God. Hopefully,
though, that man will find healing under the power of the prayers of his victim. Philip Yancey touches on the irony: "It took the
most unfair act in history, the execution of Jesus the Christ, to satisfy divine justice in a world full of injustice. That event made it
possible for the least deserving of all people-a convicted thief dangling on a cross, for example-to gain an eternity of
undeserved happiness."
Justice will have its day in the end. Justice will either doom a rapist dead in his transgressions or release that rapist alive in the
righteousness of Christ. If Vicky has her way, it will be the latter rather than the former-she understands that the value of a soul,
anyone's soul, far outweighs the inconvenience of an immobile body. She also poignantly understands that she, paralysis and all,
is no better than a convicted thief on a cross or a criminal released to the streets. By all that's "fair," she knows she should be
on her way to hell; and there was nothing "just" about Christ paying the penalty for her sins. The whole drama in which she has
wheeled on stage is called "mercy." And should her attacker find Christ, God's mercy will be magnified.
Amazing. This is what an end-of-time vantage point does to a heart bent on trusting God. Even I, with earthly eyes, can see
that the glory that will one day result from Vicky's life will be blinding and brilliant. And I was reminded of this last April when I
received a note of encouragement from my friend.
I'm being prepared to touch the wonderful scarred hands of our Lord. To know that I'm sharing
with Christ in suffering is really uplifting and comforting. I can truly say that my "wheelchair" is a
gift from God and that earth can never meet my deepest longings, only Christ can. I want to
throw off all that hinders my path to heaven. When I meet Jesus face to face, I want to have as
much tangible proof as I can to show Him that I love Him and have been faithful. Our journey
has been a difficult one, and for as long as the Lord has us here on this earth, it will continue to
be hard. But what an honor to suffer for Him. Your sister in Christ, Vicky
Not everybody needs a bullet through the neck and a breach of justice to grasp an end-of-time perspective. Oh, the justice of
it all! But Vicky has left in the dust and trampled under her wheels all the talk about "fairness." She's leaving it in God's hands.
Instead, she's concentrating on preparing herself for eternity. And she inspires us to do no less.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A contributing editor to Discipleship Journal, JONI EARECKSON TADA connects often with friends like
Vicky Olivas through JAF Ministries, an organization that accelerates Christian ministry in the disability
community. Joni recently won the Royal Dutch Airline's (KLM) 75th anniversary "Bridging the World"
contest. Her winning essay detailed her desire to deliver wheelchairs to disabled people in Ghana. As a result, KLM
sent Joni, 24 JAF workers, and a full cargo of wheelchairs to Ghana to help fulfill her dream.