The Unseen Life, Part 29

​While we were overseas, with the assistance of SIL (Wycliffe Global Alliance), the team published for the first time in the indigenous language of a minority people group, three booklets of redacted Scriptural stories and the Psalms, from the New Testament Gospels and the Songs of King David respectively. As I debated whom I should gift them to in our small town, He suggested, “The Rebel Commander.” The latter also happened to be the person in-charge of the area we were living at the time; where no policemen or army personnel would venture without his permission. The night guards posted around our home, after a close call (when our house was nearly set on fire) due to the internecine fighting between the two rebel groups in the province, was his decision. (Read this Story under “The Unseen Life, Part 4, dated 4 March 2025).
 
Visiting the Commander one afternoon, I presented the books to him. He flipped through its pages and then handed them hastily to one of his high school children, mumbling that he does not read. The curiosity over the books from his children were more obvious. A couple of days later, he commented that the Bible stories were new to him, and quite different from those he had previously heard. 
 
Then several weeks passed, when he suddenly appeared at our compound one morning, with his bodyguard. He walked around our wooden home, surveying it for a couple of minutes. Then, he pulled me aside and said, “Come with me to the sawmill. I want to show you something.” At the sawmill, which was near the forest about a kilometre away, he took me on a tour of the premises, amidst the cacophony of noise from the heavy-duty machines in operation. When we arrived at the quieter lumber yard, he familiarised me with the categories of wood used for building different parts of a house. We ended up in the ‘firewood’ yard, where inferior pieces of wooden planks were slated for sundry disposal. It was an eye-opening learning experience for me. Then he turned around and asked me who built our small wooden hut, because the wood came from this yard! 
 
The repercussions from the Commander’s question ricocheted through my mind as my earlier suspicions were confirmed. Instantly, He chipped in, “Don’t worry Gerald. The money you spent building your home belonged to Me. Leave the judgment to Me.” I turned to the Commander, “I am glad for your guidance today. Although we had paid for good wood, I had suspected all along that a major portion of the wood used were poor in quality. The builder of our home was so-and-so.” He continued, “Do you want me to bring this up with so-and-so?” I was pleasantly surprised that the Commander would raise this matter when our house was built over two years ago; surmising that he probably knew all along who built it, since he owned the sawmill and nothing that occurred in our town escaped his attention! Nevertheless, I was grateful for his obvious care and concern over us in attempting to correct an injustice! I replied, “Thank you very much for your concern. But my God will take care of it.” He said nothing, but looked at me incredulously and smiled. 
 
The niggling feeling I had at the receiving end of an injustice over the years never really left my mind! There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying a wrong. Not just the wound itself, but the vigilance, watching for the moment you might make it right, keeping the account open, rehearsing what you would say or do if you had the chance. Vengeance is heavy precisely because we were never designed to hold it. And our self-righteousness almost always gets ahead of God’s judgment over such a predicament. Does retaliation ever work for us? More often than not, it further escalates conflict. God says, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay” (Romans 12:19); it calls us to lay down our right to set things straight ourselves and to entrust justice to God. Paul is not speaking into minor irritations only, but into real wounds: betrayal, slander, abuse, humiliation. He reminds us that we are already held by God’s love before He tells us to relinquish revenge. This verse does not mean pretending evil is good, nor does it forbid seeking appropriate justice through rightful means (for example, legal protection for the vulnerable).  But it does forbid a heart that nourishes resentment and takes private vengeance out of personal anger. 
 
God’s vengeance is not a divine temper tantrum, but His holy, measured, and perfectly wise response to evil. To leave room or give place for God’s wrath is to step out of the judge’s seat and let God occupy it. We acknowledge that He sees more than we will ever do, loves more than we ever could, and will act more justly than we ever would do. This is not a passive reassurance, it is a claim of ownership. Justice is not abandoned in the universe; it has simply been entrusted to the One who can execute it rightly. The ledger isn't erased; it's transferred! This trust frees us, to respond to evil or wrongs committed against us with a love that is not naive, yet is not consumed by bitterness because of His cross. In that spirit, the next two verses then make absolute sense: to feed the enemy who is hungry, to bless those who persecute us, and to overcome evil with good (Romans 12: 20 – 21).