What does God require of us? Part 2

Do Justice

Learning God’s character through the Old Testament taught me some eye‑opening truths about justice and my perspective of justice. As I began to understand who God really is, I realized my idea of justice had been shaped more by my desires and not by His heart.

 Here’s the truth: I didn’t even know what justice meant.

In my naivety, I thought justice was me vocalizing to legalize marijuana. “It’s our right to smoke,” or so I thought. In my haze of selfish indulgence, I could not see past what benefited me — what I felt was right. The justice I wanted was self‑serving, rooted in emotion. I thought I was being oppressed — but the truth is, I didn’t understand what real oppression looked like. I had a shallow understanding of justice and oppression. In the entire world, marijuana was the only thing I voiced an opinion about. This was because I was oblivious to the world around me. I was oblivious to God’s heart — the God I gave my life to.

Through continuing to read my Bible, I began to learn His character. I discovered I was in an unbiblical fight. As I examined myself, I began to realize there had been times in my life where I heard the cries of people — hungry people, hurting people, unseen people. I would see a missing child alert and turn it off without reading it. I’d see the news of some horrific crime against another person and I’d change the channel. I wasn’t moved by the cries of humanity — it wasn’t my problem. I did not have compassion, nor did I have a passion for justice outside of myself. That’s hard to admit, but it was true.

My own rough background had made me callous. I had learned to look out for myself instead of others. Survival had shaped me more than empathy. But here I was, early in my walk, calling myself a Daughter of the King and a Christian — yet my words and my life did not reflect His heart. I had different convictions from my heavenly Father. And I realized that I was rooted in my own truth and not biblical truth.

And the truth is, the same confusion I had is everywhere.

Fast forward to today. As I observe the world around me, I acknowledge that I am in a cause‑worthy generation. We are in an era of political division. I see organizations mobilizing across the globe fighting for justice, advocating for justice with a militant spirit. The intensity for justice is undeniable.

Battles in our streets like I have never seen. Battle cries everywhere. Today’s justice is loud and in our faces. We’ve seen riots, violent protests — Christian and non‑Christian groups alike — all fighting for one thing: justice. Witnessing these events in real time reminded me of when I was fighting for what I thought was justice.

Watching our generation’s passion for justice raised a deep question in me: if justice is a battle cry, whose battle are we actually fighting?

Before I could answer that, I had to understand what justice really is.
Webster’s 1828 defines justice as “practical conformity to the laws and principles of rectitude.”
And rectitude means moral integrity — uprightness — aligning with God’s standard, not our own.

But here’s the truth: as Christians, we can all assume that we do justice biblically. We assume that since we come from the same backgrounds, same education, and even the same families, we interpret justice the same — but what I learned is that we can have different motives.

Let me explain.

I didn’t realize that two people can live in the same environment and still have completely different convictions of justice — but Scripture shows us this clearly.

One of the biblical stories that reminds me of this is found in Exodus 3–14. It’s the story of Moses and the Pharaoh of his time — two men who grew up in the same household, shared the same environment, yet carried very different convictions.

As I read about Moses, here he is — his life preserved because his mother defied the Pharaoh of her time, adopted into Pharaoh’s house, and raised as royalty. The very house he was raised in believed in enslaving and mistreating the Hebrew people. There is no record of Moses participating in the mistreatment, nor is there a record of him disagreeing — until one day in his forties. One day his perspective shifted. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave, and in a justice‑led rage, he committed murder protecting the Hebrew. Overwhelmed by the injustice, he acted without thought. And afraid to receive justice himself, Moses fled to a foreign land.

Moses and Pharaoh
Raised in the same house
Same education
Same environment
Different convictions

Forty years later, Moses encountered God through the burning bush. He was tasked with confronting Pharaoh and freeing the Hebrew people — his people. In fear and humility, Moses resisted the call. But God saw Moses’ heart and made a way for His justice to confront Pharaoh — and He chose Moses.

A man raised in Pharaoh’s house
Same environment
Same upbringing
Different convictions

Fast forward: Moses confronts Pharaoh, and we read about plague after plague hitting Egypt. As destruction and suffering spread, the cries of the people were heard throughout the land. Plague after plague, the Egyptians suffered, they were afraid, and Pharaoh’s heart remained hard — even at the sound of their cries. Pharaoh’s motives, as Scripture shows, were rooted in pride, fear, and a desire to maintain control. The cost of that was the well‑being of his own people. Moses and Pharaoh both wanted something — but only one form of justice was righteous. And only one could move forward victorious.

My shift

It’s easy to be wrapped up in your own world with compassion only for the things you care about. Just like Pharaoh, it is easy to have your own view of justice — your own cause that benefits you, benefits your people. But what if that very cause hurts innocent people, the fatherless, the voiceless, modern‑day slaves, the broken, the sick — all those created in God’s image? Then maybe it is time to reevaluate the cause.

As I continued to read God’s character and His heart for people, I saw that He was a just God. His character moved me; it softened my heart. I don’t want to be like Pharaoh and ignore the cries — not because I want to avoid judgment, but because these are people and there are real injustices in our world. Compassion can extend to all.

What if the cause we fight for doesn’t line up with God’s character? What if our cause is emotionally driven and not justice‑driven?

I learned that God does not like oppression over His creation. He is looking for someone to co‑labor with Him to set His people free — to partner with justice. Advocating for the voiceless, tending to the orphan and the widow, partnering in prayer for the freedom of the captives, and standing up for biblical truths.

God’s justice is not loud.
It’s steady.
It’s compassionate.
It’s rooted in His heart for people.
And as we learn His character, our convictions should shift.
We start to see what He sees.
We start to care about what He cares about.
We start to hear the cries we once ignored.
Justice becomes less about taking a stand
and more about taking His hand.
May we be people who Do Justice because we know the God who is just.