What We Deserve

April 14, 2022 | By Katherine Matsukawa BK’23

“You did this to yourself.” 

If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of this phrase, you likely know that this is the last thing anyone in a tough situation wants to hear. Whether or not you think that you are partly or entirely to blame for the matter at hand, to be accused of being at fault is never pleasant. It stirs within us an instantaneous reaction where every fiber of our being rushes to our defense. Before someone has even finished raising their finger to point it at us, we want to slam their arm back down on the table, offended--mortified--that they would even dare accuse us of deserving the hurt and embarrassment we face at that moment.

In the U.S., we live in a rights-obsessed culture. We use our claim to “rights”--usually not any specific right, but just the nebulous idea of it-- to defend the fact that we deserve, well, whatever we want. “I have my rights” is the common battle cry of anti-maskers when asked to don face coverings in public. Our rights in the second amendment are used to justify carrying war-grade weapons into public spaces. We love thinking, doing, and saying as we please, knowing that there has to be some clause or amendment out there that we can cite to justify our actions. 

That is not to minimize the importance of rights in our society. Rights are and have been critical to asserting the protection of parties and individuals with less social and economic power than their opposition. However, the prevalent attitude of “my rights above all else,” combined with the individualism and overall privilege of the U.S., has shaped us to believe that we deserve not only what we can be proven by the Constitution, but really anything we classify as necessary for ourselves. This leads to a long laundry list of things we believe we deserve. Self-care days. Better friends. A more loving significant other. These are not bad things to desire--it is natural for us to seek the kind of joy that comes from good health and loving relationships. But when we pause to closely examine our lives, specifically the attitudes of our hearts, whether or not we actually deserve these things becomes less clear.

According to the Oxford dictionary, to deserve (something) is “to do something or show qualities that mean a particular reaction, reward or punishment is appropriate.” So, what reward (or punishment) is an appropriate response to our actions or qualities as human beings? To answer this, we must consider—what are our actions and qualities?  We’re generally good people, right? We’re nice to those around us. We respect our parents. We might even go so far as to smile at a stranger on the street. 

But what of our hearts? Do we say nice things to classmates while secretly judging them for their decisions? Do we do what our parents tell us to do, but hold grudges for things they’ve said in the past? Do all our good deeds, at the end of the day, make us think we’re better than others?

If we are still not convinced of our perpetual prideful condition, we must go no further than to consider how we view others in light of how we view ourselves. C.S. Lewis recounts, “I remember Christian teachers telling me long ago that I must hate a bad man’s actions, but not hate the bad man: or, as they would say, hate the sin but not the sinner. For a long time I used to think this a silly, straw-splitting distinction: how could you hate what a man did and not hate the man? But years later it occurred to me that there was one man to whom I had been doing this all my life - namely myself. However much I might dislike my own cowardice or conceit or greed, I went on loving myself.”

If all of this is true--if we are not as good as we originally thought--this raises the question once more: what do we deserve? Romans 6:23 makes it abundantly clear: “for the wages of sin is death.” 

Scripture flips the idea of deservedness on its head—instead of affirming the idea that we deserve everything, Scripture proclaims that we deserve nothing. Take David, for example, whom the Bible describes as a “man after God’s own heart.” God chose him to be king because of his honorable character. Yet, he was faced with people who did not treat him honorably. In Psalm 31, he writes, 

Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighbors; I am a dread to my friends--those who see me on the street flee from me. I am forgotten by them as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery. For I hear the slander of many; there is terror on every side; they conspire against me and plot to take my life” (Psalm 31:11-13, NIV). 

That doesn’t exactly sound like the treatment a man after God’s own heart should receive. People plotting to take his life? The first time I read this passage, my instinct was immediately to rush to his defense. He did nothing wrong! He did nothing to deserve such hatred and slander.

Yet one verse later, David himself declares: “But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, ‘You are my God’” (Psalm 31:14, NIV). I initially found it unsettling that a man so upright could accept such circumstances. As someone who has repeatedly complained to God about getting or not getting the things I thought I deserved, I found myself thinking: Why would David still praise God when he was going through such turmoil? When he was being treated far worse than the way he treated others?

As I pondered this, Isaiah 54 began to illuminate the answer. The Lord said to Isaiah, “To me this is like the days of Noah, when I swore that the waters of Noah would never again cover the earth” (Isaiah 54:9, NIV). Sometimes I forget that I am not so far removed from the people of Noah’s day, who were destroyed by a flood due to their disobedience to God. Not a day has gone by that a sinful thought has not entered my mind. That I have not wronged another person in some way. That I have done enough good to earn God’s love. God was justified in blotting out the people of Noah’s time, and he would be justified if he chose to do the same with us.

But the story doesn't end there. Isaiah continues: “So now I have sworn not to be angry with you, never to rebuke you again. Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you” (Isaiah 54:9-10, NIV). 

Allow that to sink in for a moment. The Lord of all heaven and earth has promised us compassion. Nothing we do can make him rescind it. The Lord’s compassion in my own life has led me to sing of his amazing grace. I invite you to step into this grace with me and receive the undeserved gifts he offers all of us: forgiveness in place of punishment. Peace in place of fear. Life in place of death. Our receipt of these undeserved gifts is not just a one-time occurrence. The Lord extends them to us day after day.

I end with a quote by Martin Luther: “So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: ‘I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where He is there I shall be also!’”

As this Lenten season comes to a close, may we consider the undeserved kindness of God and respond with praise and thanksgiving. May we stand in confidence, not because we can expect to get things we deserve, but because we have already received the greatest undeserved gift of all.

Katherine is a junior in Berkeley College.