Well, I discussed the American judicial
system over breakfast yesterday. With a
six-year-old. See, Cailyn was worried
about Nani when she heard she was going to be on a trial ”at the building over
by station five where they have the criminals.”
Well, she’s not wrong there. But
before I could launch into my reassurance mode, she continued on.
“Will there be policemen there, too?”
Interesting train of thought. I assured her that there would indeed be
plenty of policemen around. “That’s
good,” she replied softly.
Glad she considered that a positive
thing. She continued to ponder pensively
for a long few moments. Where was her
head taking her now? Finally she continued. “So she has to answer questions and
stuff?”
“That’s part of it,” I explained.
“Well, then, will the policemen tell her
what to say?”
“No, that’s not how it works,” I
struggled. “It’s more that she has to
listen and help decide who is telling the truth.”
Again, another bite or two of her waffle
afforded her a chance to think. “So somebody
is telling a lie?”
“Yes.”
I tried to keep it really simple at this point.
“Well, then he’s the bad guy, right?”
I carefully considered my answer here. “That’s what Nani has to help decide.”
Three more bites of waffle later and the
issue was more than settled as far as she was concerned. “So Nani will be home soon?”
“It may take a while, but she’ll be here
around dinner time tonight. How’s that sound?” “OK. I’ll
beat you brushing my teeth!”
And off she ran.
Sigh.
If only the judicial system could operate through the eyes of a
six-year-old.
James 1:12 says, “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has
stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to
those who love him.”
Father, give the jurors wisdom to listen
and make the right decision. Amen.
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