“And will not God bring about justice for His chosen ones, who cry out to Him day and night? Will He keep putting them off? I tell you, He will see that they get justice, and quickly.” — Luke 18:7–8

After moving back to Kenya, we hired a nice woman to work in our home. I’ll call her Jane.

Jane was hardworking and dependable. Because my family left for work and school early each morning and she finished before we returned, we rarely saw her. She had her own house key, and over time we came to trust her completely.

One afternoon I accidentally left my house key at the office. I called Jane and asked if she could meet me with hers. I waited for her at a nearby gas station so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way home.

As I watched her approach through my car mirror, I hardly recognized her.

She was painfully thin. Her eyes were hollow, and her cheekbones protruded beneath loose skin. She looked like a shadow of herself. For a moment I wondered if the mirror was somehow distorting her appearance.

I asked her if she was alright, and she said she was.

Within days she became too ill to come to work. We encouraged her to rest and gave her time to recover.

Soon afterward, her nephew—who happened to work for my husband—called to say that Jane was gravely sick and needed medical attention.

We immediately sent our driver to take her to a local clinic. A few days later, the doctor called us. Her condition was far more serious than they could manage, and she needed to be transferred to Kenya’s national referral hospital.

Again, we sent our driver.

The hospital would not admit her without a deposit, so we paid it. She remained hospitalized for nearly two weeks. When she was finally discharged, the hospital required full payment before she could leave. We paid the remaining bill, purchased all of her prescribed medication, and our driver took her safely home.

About a week later, Jane appeared unexpectedly at my front door.

She looked healthy and was nicely dressed, almost like a different person. I was genuinely delighted to see her. But she didn’t smile.

Instead, she simply told me she was ready to return to work.

By then, I had already hired someone else. I gently explained that I wanted her to continue resting and recovering. I also assured her that when she was stronger, I would gladly help her find work at my husband’s business. Before she left, I gave her money for transportation.

She accepted it, never showed any gratitude for what we had done for her, and walked away without saying goodbye.

I remember feeling hurt by her attitude, but I let it go.

Then came another surprise.

A few days later, I received a phone call from a man claiming to be from the Department of Labor.

He informed me that Jane had filed a complaint against me for dismissing her because of her illness. She was demanding several months’ salary as compensation.

I was stunned.

I carefully explained everything we had done for her—her medical care, hospital bills, medications, transportation, and our intention to employ her again once she recovered.

He listened politely but insisted the complaint would proceed.

Over the next couple of weeks, he repeatedly called, telling me I had only two options: pay the money or prepare to go to court.

I felt betrayed. I remember telling a friend that I was done helping people because there seemed to be no point if it only brought more distress.

Eventually, I called the man back. I told him I would pay.

But before hanging up, I told him that God knew the truth and had seen all we had done for Jane.

The very next day, Jane’s nephew called.

Jane had died during the night. I was shocked and didn’t know what had happened, but I remember being confused by the turn of events.

As before, we helped her family by paying for transportation so they could travel home for her funeral.

As for the man from the labor office, he never called me again.

Whether we are falsely accused, misunderstood, or treated unfairly, our Judge is neither blind nor absent.

Justice belongs to Him.