The Myth of Injustice: What Happens When the REAL Light Hits?

 

There’s something unsettling about exposure. Not the kind that happens on social media, but the deeper kind. The slow unraveling of secrets. The moment when what was carefully hidden suddenly stands in the open air.

We see it happen all the time. Leaders who seemed untouchable. Public figures who curated flawless images. Institutions that appeared solid and respectable. And then, years later, a thread gets pulled. Evidence surfaces. Conversations leak. Patterns emerge. What was buried rises.

Why does that pattern repeat itself across history? Why do hidden things have a way of surfacing? And why do we feel, almost instinctively, that this is how it should be?

When injustice is uncovered, there’s outrage. But there’s also something else. A strange sense of equilibrium. As if the world tilted off balance and then, slowly, corrected itself. Even people who don’t share the same beliefs agree on this much: wrong should be answered. Harm should not disappear into silence.

C.S. Lewis argued in Mere Christianity that our deep sense of moral right and wrong points beyond culture or preference. We don’t merely like fairness. We appeal to it as though it is real and binding. When someone cheats us, we don’t say, “I personally dislike that.” We say, “That’s not fair.” We speak as though a standard exists.

But if the universe is random, why do we expect moral accounting? If everything is accidental, why does injustice feel like a violation of something sacred?

Scripture quietly affirms what our conscience already whispers. “For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil” (Ecclesiastes 12:14). That is not poetic exaggeration. It is a statement about reality.

The Bible also says, “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked. For whatever one sows, that will he also reap” (Galatians 6:7). That principle runs deeper than religious language. It’s woven into the structure of life. Plant bitterness and relationships wither. Sow dishonesty and trust erodes. Cultivate humility and wisdom grows.

Seeds do not disappear. They multiply.

And here is where the tension becomes personal. We are often passionate about justice when it applies to others. We want corruption exposed. We want wrongdoing corrected. We want balance restored.

But what happens when the light turns toward us?

The phrase many of us heard growing up comes back with new weight: “Be sure your sin will find you out” (Numbers 32:23). It may have sounded like fear. It may have felt intimidating. But it was less a threat and more a warning about how reality works.

Nothing stays buried forever.

For Christians, this isn’t merely about consequences in this life. It’s about eternity. Justice may unfold slowly in history, but it will not be absent at Christ’s return. Every motive, every word, every private compromise matters.

That truth can feel heavy. Yet it is paired with another: “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise… but is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). Delay is not indifference. It is mercy.

Justice is certain. But so is grace.

The cross stands at the center of this paradox. God does not ignore sin. He deals with it fully. Either we carry its weight ourselves, or we allow Christ to carry it for us.

So the deeper question isn’t whether hidden things will surface. They will. The question is how we are choosing to live now.

Are we building lives that can withstand exposure? Are we sowing seeds we would be willing to harvest publicly? Are we mistaking patience for permission?

One day, everything comes to light. That reality is not meant to paralyze us. It is meant to awaken us. Because the same God who promises justice also extends mercy, and both are expressions of His love.

The world may delay accountability. History may stagger toward it slowly. But nothing escapes the One who sees clearly.

And knowing that changes how we live today.