Read
For the Lord loves justice;
he will not forsake his saints.
They are preserved forever,
but the children of the wicked shall be cut off.
Psalm 37:28
Reflect
So often we hear stories that we wish were true, but aren’t. Then there are stories we desperately wish were not true, but are.
This is one of those stories.
Some of you may be familiar with the tragic story of the USS Indianapolis, but I suspect many of you are not. In the final days of World War II, the heavy cruiser was assigned a top-secret mission. It carried uranium and other components needed to assemble “Little Boy,” the atomic bomb that would be dropped on Hiroshima less than two weeks later.
After delivering its sensitive cargo to the island of Tinian, the Indianapolis continued to Guam. On July 28, 1945, it departed for Leyte in the Philippines, traveling without an escort through waters where Japanese submarines were still operating.
Shortly after midnight on July 30, the Japanese submarine I-58 spotted the Indianapolis and fired several torpedoes. Two struck the ship.
The Indianapolis sank in roughly 12 minutes.
Of the 1,195 men aboard, around 300 went down with the ship. The remaining sailors were left scattered across the Philippine Sea, many with little more than a life jacket to keep them afloat.
They faced exposure, dehydration, saltwater poisoning and shark attacks. Some became delirious. Others simply slipped beneath the surface from exhaustion.
Even worse, no rescue effort was underway because the Navy did not realize the ship had been lost.
The survivors remained in the water for more than three days before a patrol plane spotted them by accident. By the time the rescue was completed, only 316 men were still alive.
There was plenty of blame to go around after such a catastrophe. But institutions do not always look for the truth when something goes terribly wrong. Sometimes they look for one person who can carry the blame.
Captain Charles B. McVay III was the easiest target.
The Navy court-martialed McVay and convicted him of “hazarding his vessel” by failing to order the ship to zigzag. Zigzagging was an evasive maneuver intended to make a ship more difficult for a submarine to target.
There were several problems with that charge.
McVay’s orders allowed him to zigzag at his discretion, depending on the visibility and conditions. More importantly, Mochitsura Hashimoto, the commander of the Japanese submarine that sank the Indianapolis, testified that zigzagging would not have prevented him from successfully attacking the ship.
Nevertheless, McVay was convicted. He became the only commanding officer among the hundreds of American ships lost during World War II to be court-martialed for the sinking of his vessel.
Meanwhile, serious failures elsewhere received far less attention.
The Navy did not warn McVay that a Japanese submarine had recently sunk another vessel along his route. The Indianapolis was sent through dangerous waters without an escort. Distress signals were apparently received at several locations, but no effective response followed. When the Indianapolis failed to arrive at Leyte as scheduled, no one immediately reported it missing.
The Navy’s failures were spread across different officers, stations and departments. They were complicated and difficult to explain.
McVay was one man. Blaming him gave the tragedy a simple answer, even if it was the wrong one.
Admiral Chester Nimitz later remitted McVay’s sentence, and McVay returned to duty. But the conviction remained part of his record, and the stigma followed him for the rest of his life. Some relatives of sailors who died sent him angry letters accusing him of causing the deaths of their loved ones.
It became a burden he never escaped. In 1968, McVay took his own life.
Nearly 30 years later, a sixth-grade student named Hunter Scott learned about the Indianapolis after watching the movie Jaws. What began as a school history project became a determined effort to uncover the truth.
Hunter interviewed survivors, studied official documents and brought renewed attention to McVay’s case. His work joined the efforts survivors had already made for years and helped lead to a congressional investigation.
In 2000, Congress passed a resolution declaring that McVay should be exonerated. The following year, the Navy formally added that exoneration to his service record.
Justice finally came. But it came far too late for Captain McVay.
Justice is deeply important to the Lord. Scripture repeatedly describes God as righteous and just, a defender of the innocent and an advocate for those who are treated unfairly. Psalm 37 reminds us that “the Lord loves justice.”
That means justice should matter to us as well.
Most of us will never sit on a military court or decide a case involving hundreds of lives. But every one of us will face moments when we must decide whether we care more about truth or convenience.
It may happen when gossip begins spreading about someone. It may happen when one person is blamed because blaming that person is easier than examining the complete story. It may happen when our loyalty to a friend, organization or political cause tempts us to ignore facts we would otherwise recognize.
Justice requires us to slow down, listen and seek the truth, even when the truth complicates the story we would rather tell.
When your opportunity comes to stand for what is right, make certain that you care about the things the Lord cares about. Set aside personal feelings, resist the urge to reach an easy verdict and pray for the courage to stand on the side of truth, goodness and righteousness.
Justice delayed may still be justice. But for the person forced to carry the weight of injustice, it may arrive a lifetime too late.
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Reflection copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
