Today we mark Racial Justice Sunday—observed across Britain and Ireland since 1995 after the murder of Stephen Lawrence. It reminds us that racism is not only a problem of the past but a continuing wound in the human story. We lament the injustice that still divides us and give thanks for the beauty of God’s diverse creation, renewing our commitment to walk in Christ’s way of justice and peace.
Yet this morning I want us to pause over one word: Justice.
Racial justice is not a different justice—it is justice lived in a world of difference, where race and ethnicity have too often been used to wound rather than to bless. And at its heart is persistence—the faith that wrestles and does not let go.
1. The Parable of Persistence
In Luke 18, Jesus tells of a widow and an unjust judge. Luke writes: “Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not lose heart.”
We meet a judge who neither fears God nor respects people, and a widow—one of the most vulnerable in the ancient world—who keeps coming to him for justice.
Day after day, she returns. She has no lawyer, no wealth, no political power. All she has is her persistence. She keeps appearing until the judge relents out of sheer exhaustion.
Jesus does not say God is like this judge. The contrast is the point. If even this corrupt official can be moved to give justice, how much more will God, who is truly just, hear those who cry out day and night?
The widow’s faith is not quiet or passive; it is stubborn, active, and persistent. (She perhaps does not share British politeness either!) She will not let go until justice comes. And that is a word for us today—because justice rarely comes quickly. Justice for the poor and the oppressed demands a faith that refuses to lose heart.
2. Wrestling with God
In Genesis, we meet Jacob, who wrestles through the night with a mysterious stranger, known as an angel, by the river. At daybreak, the angel strikes his hip, but Jacob clings on, saying, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
The angel names him Israel—which means “one who wrestles with God.” The very identity of God’s people begins with this image: A human being clinging to God through struggle until the blessing comes.
This story shows that faith is holding on amid conflict, confusion, desperation, and hopelessness. The name Israel tells us that being God’s people is not about being
perfect, but about being a wrestling people—those who dare to question, to cry out, and to seek a blessing persistently even when they limp away wounded.
3. Wrestling for Justice in an Unjust World
The widow’s persistence and Jacob’s wrestling are images of faith that refuses resignation. We need that faith today. Talking about racism can feel risky: some fear we speak too much, others too little. But silence, born of shame or fatigue, is not the answer. Racial Justice Sunday reminds us that racism is not yet ended; to name it is to take hope seriously.
Britain is not unique in this struggle. Across the world, racial and ethnic divisions scar communities in different forms, but the wound is the same. Racism is sin, because it denies the image of God in another human being.
And yet, as Archbishop Desmond Tutu said, “As much as the world has an instinct for evil, it has an even greater instinct for goodness, rebirth, mercy, beauty, truth, freedom and love.” Those are the seeds of justice God plants among us—but like Jacob and the widow, we must wrestle and persist for them to grow.
4. God’s Justice Is Restorative
We often imagine justice as balance, but God’s justice is restorative, giving special care to those who have been wronged or left behind.
It leans toward the widow, the orphan, the refugee, the enslaved, the racially excluded, and those who are short of support in their culture and society. It bends toward those told to wait quietly—and says, “Come and demand your blessing.”
That is why Jesus’ parable shocks us. Even when justice seems delayed or systems are corrupt, persistence matters. If even an unjust judge can be moved, how much more the God who is just?
5. Hope That Persists
I just returned from a retreat at the Taizé Community in France and was deeply moved by their 2025 Letter from Brother Matthew, the Prior. It says, “Hope is provocative, and more than that, it is contagious. The opposite of hope is indifference or resignation.”
Hope is not naïve optimism. It is a fragile flame that burns in the darkest night, allowing us to keep showing kindness, to choose peace, to demand justice when the world grows weary.
Drawing on the image of the empty tomb on Easter morning, the Letter asks: What stones in our lives must God roll away so that new life may be born within us?
Perhaps one stone is fear—fear of saying the wrong thing about race. Another is apathy—believing nothing will change. But the hope of the risen Christ rolls away those stones.
As Brother Matthew writes, “To believe in the Resurrection of Jesus takes courage and daring. It means striving not to be paralysed by death and destruction.”
That is our call on Racial Justice Sunday: hope beyond all hope—hope that racism can be unlearned, that communities can be reconciled, that justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
6. The Limp of Faith
However, we need to remember that: Jacob’s experience reminds us that hope comes with a limp. After wrestling all night, he walks away wounded; the blessing costs him something.
Perhaps that is what mature faith looks like—not perfect confidence but the limp of those who have wrestled with God and the world’s injustice and not let go.
So if today you feel tired or discouraged by the persistence of racism or the cruelty of war, we should remember it: Don’t let go till the blessing and justice come!
Don’t let go of God. Don’t let go of hope. Don’t let go of the dream of justice that bends toward the least, the lost, and the cultural and racial minorities.
As Paul’s Letter to Romans writes, “Hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 5:5)
7. A Call to Persevering Love
To be the church today is to be Israel—a people who wrestle with God and with humanity. It is to be the widow—a community that keeps showing up and speaking up at the door of the world’s injustice.
It is to be pilgrims of hope and peace, carrying a peace that frees us to love life and resist injustice.
We may not see the end of racism in our lifetime. That is no reason for despair but an invitation to faithful persistence.
In every small act of justice, every word of truth, every prayer for reconciliation, God’s kingdom comes among us.
So let us be people who wrestle for blessing, who persist in prayer, who hope beyond hope. And even if we limp, may we limp together—toward the justice, mercy, and peace of God. And make that wound unite us together!
Amen.