The problem in life is not that we complain too much about many things. It’s that we complain too little about the one thing that truly matters.[1]

There’s a small town where everyone knew everyone and everyone even knew their chickens. Among the townsfolk was a notorious widow named Ms. Edna Butterworth. Edna was well known because she made it her life’s mission to keep the local court system, and especially Judge Tuttle, “honest.” Edna complained about everything. She complained about the neighbor’s dog that barked all night. She complained that the mailman folded her magazines. She complained that the city workers didn’t know how to sweep the streets properly on Saturday mornings. If there was something to grumble about, Edna had already filed a complaint, probably in triplicate.

One morning, Judge Tuttle sat at his bench with his hands folded and sighed, “What can it be this time, Edna?” “Your Honor,” she began, “I’m going to sue.” “Going to sue?” he asked. “Sue whom, Edna?” “I’m going to sue the weather!” she declared. “The newspaper said it would be a sunny day with no rain. I planned my garden party, baked a cake, and invited the neighbors and then it poured! My cake was ruined, my guests stayed home, and poor Mr. Franklin next door slipped in my wet geraniums. Someone must be held accountable!” The courtroom erupted in laughter. Even the bailiff couldn’t contain himself. Judge Tuttle, trying to keep his composure, banged his gavel and asked, “Do you have any evidence, Ms. Butterworth?” She held up the newspaper. “Right here! It said sunny skies! That’s false advertising!” With a sigh, the judge smiled and said, “Case dismissed. Next time, Edna, I suggest you use a tarp.” As she stormed out muttering about the lack of meteorological justice, Judge Tuttle turned to the bailiff and said, “I’m putting up a new sign: Only three complaints per month, especially for widows!”

Now, the problem isn’t that Miss Edna complained it’s what she complained about. She complained about many things, but never about the one thing that truly mattered. We find evidence of this in the parable Jesus talks about the widow and the unjust judge. Before we step into this courtroom scene, let’s define a few terms. We all know what complaining is and let’s be honest, we’ve all done it. Some more than others. But there’s another word related to complaint which is persistence. Persistence means continuing despite obstacles like the salesman who makes fifty phone calls a day, knowing that forty-nine will be rejections, but still hoping for that one “yes.” Then there is perseverance. It goes deeper. It is persistence with emotion and endurance, the refusal to give up even when the outcome seems hopeless.

Complaint, persistence, perseverance, these three ideas are woven together in Jesus’ parable. Jesus tells of a judge, not just any judge, but an unjust one. [2] A man who neither feared God nor respected people. And before him stood a widow, poor, powerless, yet determined. She came to him day after day, pleading for justice against her adversary. Her complaint wasn’t about dogs or mailmen or messy streets. It was about one thing. We aren’t told exactly what, but whatever it was, it mattered deeply. She risked her reputation, her dignity, and the scorn of the community all for this one complaint. And because of her perseverance, not merely her persistence, the unjust judge finally gave in. Not because he was righteous or compassionate, but because her continual pleading moved him to act.

There’s something profoundly human about that. Even an unjust judge, who cared for neither God nor people, could still recognize sincerity and emotion in her plea. The widow’s persistence mirrors our own relationship with God. Her repeated complaint becomes, in essence, a prayer. She’s not just demanding justice, she’s longing for mercy. And the judge? He becomes a reflection of what we fear about God, that maybe He doesn’t hear us, or that He’s too distant to care. But Jesus uses this parable to make a powerful contrast: If even an unjust judge can be moved by persistence, how much more will a loving and just God hear the cries of His people? So, what is Jesus teaching us here? Not that God must be pestered until He gives in, but that true faith perseveres through the silence.

Justice is always, in some sense, subjective, it depends on the authority rendering judgment. But if God is our judge, and Jesus our advocate, then we can trust that divine justice, though mysterious, is always righteous. When we bring our complaints, our prayers before God, we often want to dictate the outcome. We tell Him what we think is fair, what we believe would make life easier or better. But God’s justice doesn’t always align with our sense of fairness. And so, we wrestle. We complain. We persist. We persevere.

Here is the heart of the matter: Jesus teaches that to receive God’s justice, we must first endure suffering. Larry Arnn, president of Hillsdale College, once said that to grow in faith, “You must suffer.”[3] Perseverance, then, is a form of suffering, knowing what you want, yet surrendering to what God wants. Even Jesus suffered. On the cross He cried, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” In that moment, His divine strength met the full weight of human pain. His suffering was not the absence of faith; it was the expression of it.

Are you suffering today? Perhaps not from what you’ve lost, but from what you haven’t yet received from unanswered prayers, from deferred hopes, from living in a world full of complaints about many things but not the one thing that truly matters. What if our greatest complaint should be this: “God, give me the strength to endure my suffering. Teach me to persevere.” God created us to grow through stages, from the grammar of what things are, to the dialectic of how things work, to the rhetoric of why they are the way they are. Complaining may be part of our development, but Jesus calls us beyond it, into the maturity of perseverance.

So, when the dog barks, when the mail is folded, when the street isn’t swept, remember the widow. Remember Ms. Edna and remember that true faith doesn’t complain about many things, but wrestles honestly with one thing: “Lord, help me to endure. Help me to believe.” For when you feel like your prayers are not being answered, know this, your prayers are being heard, and that, beloved, is no small thing.
Jesus suffered. We suffer. But our suffering is not meaningless; it is the forge of faith. When you are tempted to complain much about many things, remember what Jesus says: You must suffer. You must persevere. And if you must complain, complain only about the one thing that can draw you closer to God.

[1] The Rev. Jon Roberts
[2] Luke 18:1-8
[3] A Funeral eulogy for the life of Charlie Kirk, Sept. 2025.