Of Justice and Jackrabbits

           When I was 17 years old I was called upon by woman to answer a question that shamed me to answer and brought her a great deal of pain.  The answer caused her and the man she was living with to quarrel and eventually separate.  I remember being afraid of what would happen to me—after all guy was a con man of sorts and had been in prison before. There was no telling what he might do.  Even the woman was not entirely to be trusted—she received a restraining order from the man’s new girlfriend a few months later.

For years, I could not return to my home without remembering the situation because the woman’s house could easily be seen from both my mother’s living room and her back porch.  Then I learned that the con man was living half a block away from us with friends from our home-town church.

At first, I was very ill at ease.  Should I say something?  Should I let it go?  The people that the con man lived with were sweet and elderly.

I would hate to see them get taken advantage of.

On the other hand, the con man was going to church.  He’d been down to the prayer bench to ask forgiveness for his sins.  He was working a steady job.  Maybe this was the break he needed to turn his life around.  I kept my silence.  I cannot judge for myself, I thought.  Leave it in God’s hands, See what comes of it…

                Last year I visited my grandmother.  She talked of the many changes in the church since I was away.  When the conversation turned to the con-man, I kept my mouth shut and listened.  She said he’d been arrested for stealing from the place where he worked.

                “That man,” she said.  “He never was very sincere.  Sure, he went down to the prayer bench that one time.  But then he kept going down there.  That’s a sure sign that either someone’s not sincere about their prayer, or else they’re just doing it for show.”

                I didn’t know if he was sincere or not, but there for a while my heart had hoped that he was.  In a way, I still hope.  I’d like to believe that none of us alive are past the point of receiving grace.  In the place of insincerity though, it’s nice to know that justice can be a jackrabbit.