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Never Play Fair

Never Play Fair

Sometimes I wonder what the world would look like if it was run in a just and fair way. In utopia, would everyone be happy, living in castles and spending vacations in the Bahamas or Aruba? We often complain about life not being fair. We vent and run all the opposing scenarios through in our heads. Of course, I too am not exempt from this. However, there is something more important than fairness at work in the world today, and I can’t help but wonder if the world was truly fair would we all be any more or less happy?


You see, my life is not in the least bit fair. I was born an American. I was raised in the Bible belt of America. I never worry about where I will find my next meal. More than physiological needs being met, I am working towards gaining a traditional education at a four year institute. In a psychology class my freshman year, this was called “self-actualization.”  In all these things life has not treated me fair by any stretch of the imagination. The day I was born life stopped treating me fairly. 

But first world problems or in this case, blessings, is not what has consumed my mind recently. No, my mind has been filled with much different thoughts than these. 

For those of you who are not aware, I was adopted. Not the typical story of adoption, I was an orphan of love for many years of my life, even while being the daughter of sin and slave to fear.  The day I realized a father wanted me was the day I gained a protector, and more importantly, my God. 

The love of God allowed me to become a sister to Jesus Christ and an heir of the Lord. Contrary and not accepted by popular belief, I was in full out rebellion even as my would-be father fought to gain custody of me. He sent someone to cover my rebellion, even as it simmered under the surface of my thoughts and fears, and waited until the moment I finally turned and glanced in His direction. 

In this moment He was not playing fair. 

My adoption papers are written in red, imprinted forever on pages countless have studied, and countless have yet to.  They start in the beginning, telling the story of how sin first entered my heart and giving details through the years until my adoption was complete, until the papers were signed with the last breath of Jesus Christ. 

By no means is this fair. 

By no means have I been treated in a fair or just manner. 

I have only been treated with mercy, grace, love -- everything but fairness. 

The moment I was adopted I could have been told to remember my place, be respectful and cautious when approaching the father who had been gracious enough to adopt me. But no. 

I was told to boldly approach him.

To ask for what I need.

To pour out my troubles to Him, not bottle them away and hide them deep in my heart. 

This is why I am thankful life is not fair. Because if life was any bit fair I would still be an orphan and a slave to fear.  It is only because my now-Father did not play by the rules that I was adopted into life. 

My papers are signed with the blood of Jesus Christ and will never be recanted. My future is secure and held in the hand of the one who has adopted me. My present is paid for and I am living strictly on grace. My life is far from fair and I could not be more thankful. 

Thank you Jesus, for breaking the rules.



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