THE CREATOR
somehow put the concept of “fairness” in every person’s soul. You didn’t have
to learn about fairness in school. The richest person on Earth believes in
fairness, as does the poor African child. This is puzzling because:
Life doesn’t
play by the rules we wish it did. If it were truly fair, then every good
decision would lead to a good outcome—simple as that. You choose wisely; you
live well. But reality’s messier than that. Sometimes, out of nowhere,
something hits you—a drunk driver, a sudden diagnosis—and everything changes.
These moments feel deeply unfair because they are. They’re random, painful, and
beyond our control.
And yet, life
throws good surprises too. A lucky break, a chance meeting, a door opening when
you least expect it. We often chalk those up to our talent or good fortune. But
just like the bad stuff, they’re part of the unpredictable mix. Life’s not a
straight line—it’s a winding road full of twists we didn’t plan for. Put it all
together and
LIFE IS NOT
FAIR
The odd part
is that we continue to expect life to be fair when it seldom is. We are like
children, tricked and tricked over again, and still expect a different outcome
the next time. Now, this concept of fairness still has a purpose. It guides us
in how we should treat people. We should treat them fairly. But even then, we
often don’t. We usually make decisions based on selfish motives. I have written
previously about how a seemingly good friend “sold me out” for a mere $50.
Unfortunately, no one is exempt from this unfairness. You could dedicate your
life to helping people cope with life, meeting their spiritual needs, and
healing the sick, resulting in you getting tortured and crucified – you can’t
get more unfair than that …
Therefore, our
condition is to possess an innate sense of fairness, yet live in a world that
is consistently unfair. This is a painful and frustrating part of life.
Sometimes extremely unfair events happen to people we care about. At these
agonizing moments, we often ask THE CREATOR, “Why?”.
My good
friend’s wife recently unexpectedly passed away. Well, I have reached the
“wisdom years” in that I no longer ask THE CREATOR “why?”. For one, He ain’t
gonna tell me. And if He did, the reason might resemble three-dimensional,
abstract calculus. Much more complex than one of those math problems that
stretch over three chalkboards, and way beyond my tiny human brain’s capacity
to understand. Worse yet, the explanation for this one might be “Stuff happens
– you’re going to have to deal with it.”
So it is
futile to ask “why?”. But this one – this one is so, so unfair. It took
whatever joy I had experienced that day and sucked the life right out of me. It
caused me to raise my head toward Heaven, with an expression on my face that
said – “Really? This happened? How, how could this happen? How bad is this
place when we have to deal with sh!+ like this? How is my friend supposed to
deal with this? And what possible solace can I offer after a death so tragic?
I think there
is a cultural element to dealing with death. I believe our ancestors dealt with
it better because there was so much more of it. I read about a couple having ten
children and losing four - yet they seemed to survive. I almost lost my first,
and I still carry the pain forty years later.
We expect the
world to be fair because THE CREATOR is fair and has inserted that sense of
fairness into our souls. However, this fair CREATOR has placed us in a fallen
world that is so often unfair. It is randomly, painfully unfair. It makes life
challenging to live, tricky to navigate, and brutally painful at times.
LIFE IS NOT
FAIR …
The Backstory
I first met
Jeff about eight years ago. I’d read about his charity in the paper and
thought, “That’s exactly the kind of organization I want to support.” So I
called him up, we had a good conversation, and I ended up writing a pretty
sizable check. A few days later, he invited me to lunch—he wanted to thank me
and get to know the guy behind the donation. We clicked instantly. From that
first meeting, it felt like we were already friends.
Over time, my
respect for Jeff continued to grow. Honestly, I’d put him at the top of the
list of people I admire most—maybe the top. We’d meet for lunch three or four
times a year, and I continued to support his work. What made our friendship
unique was that we didn’t share any mutual friends. That gave us a kind of
freedom. Jeff could talk to me about things he couldn’t share with others—most
of his friends were tied to his job, and he needed someone outside that circle. He trusted me, and I trusted him. We both
knew that whatever was said between us stayed between us.
One day, he opened up about his divorce. It had happened ten years
earlier, and it was rough—really rough. I knew I was only hearing his side, but
Jeff’s not the type to embellish. He’s logical, honest, and deeply thoughtful.
The whole thing had left a mark on him, so I was surprised when he told me he
was ready to start looking for a new partner.
Then he laid out his standards. And let me tell you, they were high. But
that’s Jeff—he’s a high-quality guy, so it makes sense he’d be looking for
someone exceptional. I listened, nodding, but in my head I was thinking, “This
woman doesn’t exist. Not in Northeast Ohio. Maybe not anywhere.” Especially
considering the demands his job would place on her.
But then—six months later—he told me he’d found her. He was in love. I
was skeptical, sure, but my faith leaves room for miracles. And this felt like
one. They got married not long after, and Jeff adored her.
I only met Tanya twice. Each time, she greeted me with this radiant
smile—probably because Jeff had talked me up so much. He tends to overstate my
goodness, conveniently ignoring my flaws. But Tanya was everything he said she
was: warm, gentle, full of light. You could feel it. Jeff had the faith to
search for her, and I truly believe THE CREATOR brought them together.
And then…
One evening, after what had been a perfectly normal day, I got an email
from Jeff. Tanya had passed away. Four weeks earlier. A common virus, a possible
mistake, a fluke occurrence – whatever, and just like that—she was gone.
I stared at my screen, stunned. Tears welled up. I’ve never been hit this
hard by the death of someone I barely knew. It felt so unfair. So senseless. I
looked upward and thought, “What is this? How are we supposed to deal with
something like this? How do we recover from something so… I don’t even have the
words.”
I couldn’t respond back right away. I had no words. The next morning, I
sent a short message: “I mourn for you.” That’s all I could manage. I told him
I’d be here to talk whenever he was ready, knowing full well it might be a
while. He is recovering better than I thought he would, being a strong person
of faith.
Life has a way of making us hope for fairness, doesn’t it? We step into
the world expecting things to balance out—good effort gets rewarded, kindness
gets returned. But more often than not, what we get doesn’t match what we hoped
for. That gap between expectation and reality? That’s one of the toughest parts
of the human experience.
The truth is, life isn’t going to bend itself to meet our sense of
justice. It’s not wired that way. So instead of waiting for the world to
change, we have to shift how we see it. Adjusting our expectations isn’t giving
up—it’s learning how to walk through the mess with a little more peace.
