Clay Cannons

I read an article about an old man who took to throwing bricks at cars that sped through a cross walk.   After the brick hit their cars, the drivers slowed but then sped on without stopping.  The police arrested the old man and then released him without charging him.  The people rejoiced.  The old man served justice in the form of a clay cannon.

I followed the story and remember that the man tried to take legal measures to bring safety to his neighborhood and failed.  He took justice into his own hands.  Confucian respect for old age and the government’s fear of a mob shrouded the old man in a strong layer of protection.  So, breaking the law achieved justice and everyone knew it.

Living in a country where breaking the law is a way to justice blows my mind.  The absurdity of it all!  Growing up in a country where the symbol of the court is a blindfolded woman holding a scale means that I am ill-equipped to deal with how unfair life is in Asia.  I desire almost daily to take justice into my own hands because it’s just not happening like it should.

And, it’s not.  I still don’t know what to do with all the injustice I see every day.  I get angry, I grieve, I feel powerless.  I have it good.  I really don’t experience my fair share of it.  I’m usually treated with kid gloves being a respected foreigner.

I long for that day, though, I long for that day when justice will prevail.  I long for that day when old men need not launch clay cannons at cars to keep their grandkids safe.

2 thoughts on “Clay Cannons

  1. I can see myself throwing clay cannons at speeding cars. And I would hope that justice would not be served… at least not on me.

    While I say I want to see justice I also remember that true justice would be deadly for me. While I may not have thrown clay cannons at cars, I have gotten angry at my wife because she did not treat me like a king. And I have looked at a begger with disdain.

    It’s wonderful that our Father applied my sin to his son and his son’s perfection to me. the Great Exchange. And it is purely by His grace, not my good conduct.

    So even though I have thrown firecrackers at cars when I was young and foolish, I am forgiven. That is justice, just not the kind I could ever earn.


    1. Bearing the weight of the wait to me feels like I long for justice, for heaven, and for the world to work as God intended it to work. All the while I live in the state of in-between knowing that God’s grace is just as available to those that work injustice as it is available to me who also works injustice. God’s grace grows as I recognize He waits that all would have the chance to partake of His grace.
      Longing for justice sometimes make me proud, not recognizing my sin and my forgiveness, or it can bring me to the heart of the Lord who also longs for justice. Am I willing to take injustice like He took injustice? To be wronged? To suffer in the sufferings He suffered for me? to love?
      How do I live in an unjust world? By picking up clay cannons? Or by taking on the sorrow?


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