My family calls me Mama Bear for a reason. I love deeply and fiercely, especially when someone hurts those I love. I can also struggle with the ability to let go, long after the incident has passed. Something deep within me cries out for justice—for the offender to acknowledge and take responsibility for the damage they’ve caused. When that doesn’t occur, I take comfort in knowing God sees and knows all, my and my loved one’s hurts included, and will one day make all things right.
When my daughter was young, a teacher spoke ugly things into her heart and hurt her deeply. She had entered the school with a love for learning and a hunger to explore. By the end of her fifth grade year, she became paralyzed by a growing fear of failure. She grew so afraid she’d get answers wrong, she got to where she couldn’t write anything.
In a year’s span, I watched the spark within her grow dimmer and dimmer. It took some time for this hurt to heal. Years of loving and kind educators speaking life into those wounded areas. Witnessing the long-lasting effects of my daughter’s pain triggered protective anger within me. I wanted the harsh teacher to know precisely what she’d done.
I imagine there have been times when you’ve felt the same.
When we’re in that place, it helps to remember our God sees. He sees every hurt, every callous word, every unloving act. He sees, He cares, and promises to, one day, make all things right. While this truth doesn’t negative the pain we all experience in this broken and often unjust world, it does help cushion the blow knowing we and our loved ones aren’t alone. God sprinkles reminders of this throughout Scripture, of times when He demonstrated His love for justice and those who likely felt discarded, betrayed, and abandoned.
I wonder if that’s how Bathsheba, the woman from 2 Samuel 11, felt when she first learned of her husband’s death. Some of you may be familiar with the story. Scripture tells us one day, King David was walking about on his palace roof, likely gazing across his land. From this elevated position on top of Mount Zion, upon which his castle stood, he could easily see the open courts of all the houses below. And then, mid-stroll, a beautiful woman captured his attention. She was bathing in her garden, completing ceremonial purification rights, likely in honor of God. Completely unaware of the lust-filled eyes locked upon her. Shortly after, the king’s messenger’s came knocking at her door to take her back to the palace. Soon after, King David, the man with supreme authority in the land, slept with her then sent her home.
How might you have felt in this situation? Living during a time when women were often treated as property, to be summoned, used, then discarded? And then, before those wounds have had time to heal, she learned she’s pregnant. Likely terrified, she told the king. Soon after, he had her husband killed.
After all this, did her soul cry out for justice? Did she long to know that someone saw her pain, that someone cared? We know from Scripture God indeed saw it all and held David accountable for his sin. (2 Samuel 12). But He did more than that.
Notice how she’s mentioned in Matthew’s genealogy in Matthew 1:
Verse six states, “David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah’s wife” (NIV).
First, why mention her at all? Obviously, each of the men listed had mothers, but we only read of five: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary. With each, we learn of the sons they bore, but notice, with Bathsheba, we’re told something more. We learn not that she was married to David, the Goliath slayer and “man after God’s own heart.” No, Scripture says she was Uriah’s wife, the valiant, honorable man David, the king, had, in essence, murdered.
Granted, that’s not the purpose of Matthew’s list, and my perspective is merely conjecture at best. Still, I can’t help but find significance and comfort in knowing that God preserved this truth, that Bathsheba belonged to Uriah first. That they had belonged to one another. David stole her from her husband then later stole her husband from her.
In this small section of Scripture, I’m reminded that God cares for our big hurts and our small and has promised, one day, justice will prevail. Until then, we hold tight to the comfort of His love and the knowledge that He sees every injustice we suffer.
Let’s talk about this. Is there a situation, maybe a past hurt or a hurt someone you love has suffered, that you need to surrender to God? What words of comfort and truth is He speaking into your heart today? Share your thoughts with us in the comments below. And speaking of hurts, make sure to check out the latest Faith Over Fear Podcast episode on finding the courage to break free from fear of rejection. You can listen HERE.