Judgment

 One time, many years ago, a brother got up in front of church and said something—I, of course, do not remember the exact words—to the effect that introverts were more selfish than extroverts.

My spirit rose within me. I am an introvert. I know lots of extroverts who are selfish. I’m not going to say that I’m unselfish, but to say that, in one sweeping statement of generalization that introverts are more selfish? That was not OK. He clearly didn’t understand everything about introversion and extroversion that I did. How dare he?

I have, in the past, prided myself for being non-judgmental. I looked on in scorn as my fellow youth refused to hang out with someone just because they weren’t “cool” enough. “Seriously,” I thought, “get a grip and grow up. You’re not so much better than everyone else.”

 

I’ve also read the account of the publican and the Pharisee in Luke 18. I’ve prided myself on being in accordance with the publican. But even while I pray, “God, be merciful to me a sinner!” A little voice has whispered in my heart, “at least you’re not like the Pharisee!”

 

And so I stand today, imperfect, before you. The thoughts I leave here have impressed me in the midst of my own need. But because I believe that all of us struggle with casting judgement at one time or another, I shall leave them with you, as well.

 

I have been intrigued by judgement among humans for a number of years, and I’ve noticed some patterns that hold true in my own life.

 

The first of these points is very simplistic. We often are tempted to accuse others of being judgmental, but we cannot make this accusation without being judgmental ourselves. You can see it in each of the examples I mentioned at the beginning. I judged the brother for his judgment on introverts. I judged my fellow youth for their judgmental attitude toward others. I judged the Pharisee for judging the publican. Honestly, who is the most judgmental person in those illustrations? If I’m honest, I have to admit that it’s probably me. 

 

What makes us accuse others of being judgmental? There seems to be a few root reasons. One is that we often accuse others of being judgmental when we are feeling guilt or shame about something. Another is, quite simply, pride. Sometimes this pride exhibits itself in feeling like we are better than others because we are more talented or more socially adept. Other times it shows up in self-righteousness, appearing humble on the outside, but lifting ourselves up on the inside.

 

Although it likely falls under the canopy of pride as well, I’m going to give special mention to the judgment that comes from the surprising place of our own insecurities. When we aren’t sure who we are in Christ, or when we have not accepted the person we have been created to be, insecurity often manifests itself as judgment.

 

When we allow ourselves the liberty of judging others, whether it be a first-person judgment, or in response to feeling judged, we open ourselves to bitterness. Bitterness is a terrible wedge between two people. Many times, it stirs up unrest, resentment, fear, and false ideas about what the other person meant by what was said or done.

 

Feeling this resentment and bitterness toward someone else ends up stealing my own peace. I must be so careful what I say to them that it becomes easier not to talk around them at all. I feel as though they are critical towards me, so I avoid them at social functions and hide when I see them in Walmart. Bitterness takes very little time to turn into bondage.

 

Whether I really have been judged by someone else, or just think I have, it hurts. It really does. It does no good to pretend I’m tough and it doesn’t matter. But to let my pain turn into bitterness is a very dangerous thing. As I nurse my wounds, I begin to separate myself from those around me. I begin to rely on my own judgment, no longer willing to trust others. Instead, I start secluding myself, turning away, relying only on my own direction.

 

Hebrews 12:15 talks about bitterness. “Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled.” I had never thought of bitterness this way. Not only does it defile me, my bitterness toward others may cause them to stumble, and thus defile them as well.

 

Why would I even write about judgment and bitterness? Christians shouldn’t have those problems.

 

I wish.

 

Satan knows all too well what temptations we are prone to, and somehow he manages to use them to his advantage more often than we care to admit. If we’re going to be real, we’re going to have to admit that we sometimes struggle with these feelings. (Unless I really am the only one!) While I may not be able to prevent these feelings, I can choose what to do with them. Allowing them to continue in my heart unchecked is a very dangerous place. Pulling them up by the root is a brave, though painful solution.

 

Jesus’ words to the Jewish leaders, “…He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her,” (John 8:7) remains true for us today. While the Church as a whole has been bestowed the power of judgment with approval from our Father, we must be very careful in the personal judgments we are tempted to cast. Many times we will find that neither side of an issue is completely in the right.

 

When judgment and bitterness overtake a group of people, it becomes very difficult to work together. Love becomes a vague and shadowy form. Decisions become difficult to make as people fear being honest and being judged for their opinions. Instead of upbuilding conversations of growth, time together is spent in stilted speech or light commentary. Times of fellowship become less common, leading to less understanding of one another’s hearts and a weaker circle of believers.

 

Is judgment a widespread problem? I’m not here to answer that. I struggle with it, more than I like to admit.

 

Is there a simple answer? Sure. Be humble. But knowing the answer and living the answer are two different things.

 

Is there hope? There is always hope. Romans 8:37 states it beautifully: “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.” We will fail and stumble and fall, for we are human. But through Christ, through Him that loved us enough to take the judgment we deserved on Himself, we will find a way. Looking to Him and His love will help us learn to let go of the bitterness and replace judgment with grace and compassion.

 

So this is my prayer, for myself and for you, too, if you find yourself struggling. That we could go forward together, as conquerors, eyes fixed ever on the Giver of Love, for only He is able to help us overcome our flesh. And someday? Someday if we strive faithfully onward, we will sing together before His throne, free from bitterness and fear and failing, where judgment will never divide us again.

 

May God bless each one of you with a beautiful week!

Benched

When Miss Virginia was younger, quite a number of years ago, she coached the girls’ basketball team at a local private school. Her rules were simple: Bring honor to the school, respect your teammates, your opponents, and your coach.

 Usually there wasn’t a lot of trouble. But the day came when one of the players, in a bad temper over a failed shot, said a four-letter word that fell harshly on Miss Virginia’s ears. The language was so foul, she could scarcely believe it was one of her girls who had said it.

 The rest of the team looked at her in shock. They knew this language didn’t fall under Miss Virginia’s code of conduct. What would she do?

 The coach’s own daughters, too young to be on the team, ran up to their mother. “Did you hear that, Mom? What are you going to do?” they asked, horrified excitement on their faces.

 “It will be taken care of,” Miss Virginia assured them. “You’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” 

Then she drew the young player aside. “You know the rules,” she said kindly. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay on the bench at the next game.” 

The next game? The team looked on in dismay. The young lady who had been benched was one of the starters, a rising star in her own right. And the next game was a tournament game, an opportunity for triumph and a trophy. What had their coach done?

Miss Virginia went home that evening, saddened by the events of the day. Had she made the right decision? It wasn’t long until the phone rang. On the other end was the benched player’s mother.

 “I’m a Christian,” she began.

 “Oh no,” Miss Virginia thought. “These calls are always worse when they have to start out by telling me they’re a Christian.”

 “I’m a Christian,” the woman said, her fury palpable over the phone line, “but I don’t know what you think you’re doing, benching my daughter for one word slipping out. This is the tournament game we’re talking about. My daughter is the star of the team! You’re going to sacrifice the tournament for one little word? You’re going to lose the whole thing if you won’t let her play!”

 The tirade went on and on. At last the woman paused. “I’m sorry,” Miss Virginia answered, “I’d love to let her play, but it’s more important to me that she learns to respect herself than that we win the tournament. I don’t coach to win the game, I coach to help these girls become the best version of themselves that they can be. I want them to grow, to become citizens worth respect, citizens we can trust to lead our governments. I can’t go back on my word, not if I want to lead by example, not if I want to help not only your daughter, but all the players, become the best version of themselves.”

 It may be that anger is also the mother of invention. The woman on the other end of the line surely invented a new lexicon of abuse, but she may as well have been speaking to a deaf woman. Miss Virginia was not to be moved. She had a long-range vision for the girls on her team. She loved them, and she wasn’t only looking at tomorrow or the next tournament. She was looking even farther into the future.

 Where do you find yourself today? Are you living your life with a long-range view, or with short term vision? All too often I find myself looking only at today, only at tomorrow. I prefer to dismiss where my actions will lead in the next year, the next five, the next ten.

 These actions can be small—where I spend my money, what snacks I choose to consume, how much time I waste reading the news, the words that I allow to fall, unheeded, from my tongue. The short-sightedness can lead me to think it’s OK if I skip my devotions, read that questionable book, repeat the gossip I’ve heard, or even harbor thoughts of judgement against another.

 This may sound like I’m advocating for perfection, but I assure you that is not the case. I’m advocating for you to join me in turning to our Heavenly Father and asking Him about the long-range plan. Is there something He wants me to change? Something He would have for me to give up? An area in which He would have me learn self-denial?

We’re used to easy living, coasting through our Christian lives, coming up with our own reasoning to sort out the things that we allow ourselves. Some of us fall into the bondage of trying to perfectly follow every aspect of Christian living we can fathom. In some cases, we fail to live in the freedom of the Spirit because we are trying so hard to do everything right.

 In most cases, I don’t believe that God works in big splashy ways. Neither does He want us to change everything at once. Most of all, our Father is looking for a willing heart that He can lead toward small actions which may grow into what the world around us would consider radical self-denial. We can’t get away from self-denial. It’s in everything we do—our choice to get out of bed in the morning, our decision to forego a second serving, the not-always-simple act of consistency in our child training, whether a parent at home or a teacher in a classroom.

 This self-denial isn’t radical to a Christian. Luke speaks of it in chapter 9, verse 23: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

Neither is it a foreign thought to live with our eyes on the long-range view. In fact, everything about Christian life speaks of the long-range. “But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.” (Matthew 24:13). Later, the apostle continues: “Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.” (Matthew 24:44)

I’m not here to tell you what area God would have you to consider in your life. Far from it. I’ve been inspired with this topic mostly because I’ve been wondering what God would have for me in the way of self-denial. There are so many areas where I could see places to improve. So many things that aren’t quite up to par. Am I willing to follow where He’s leading me? If He wants me to practice denying myself of anxieties that arise, am I willing to do my best to follow? How about toning down a part of my personality that has always been part of my identity? What of the ways that I usually relax? Am I open-hearted enough to allow Him to replace those things with a different plan? 

It's easy to shrug and say, “Oh, that’s just how I am. I know others who do the same thing.” But what of Miss Virginia’s rules? Are we respecting our Brothers and Sisters? Are we respecting ourselves? Are we respecting our Coach? Is our negligence placing honor where it is due, or soiling the Church we love?

I realize I’ve probably asked more questions than I have given answers, but maybe that’s OK. I’m not here with answers. Maybe what I’ve really spent all this space rambling about is willingness to follow direction, even though we don’t understand everything. I may not know the reason God is asking me to give something up or give in, but I do know I can trust Him enough that He has a reason—a good one—even though I can’t see into the future.

 God sees the long-range better than anyone. In His own words, He says “I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

His goal for us is so much bigger than winning a basketball game. It’s so much more than short-term pleasure. His goal is to draw us nearer to Himself, to mold us into the kind of person He created us to be. And someday there will be a reward waiting for us that is worth more than any earthly trophy. Am I ready to go wherever He leads? To deny whatever He asks to be denied? Are you?

 Oh, and Miss Virginia’s tournament game? Well, they won—even though a starting player was on the bench. This, too, speaks to me. Even though it may not look like winning in the eyes of the world, I can win in eternity by giving up those things that look impossible to do without.

 Are you ready to join me? We’ll make mistakes, but we’ll work together, pick ourselves up and continue onward, upward. Because we have will have a long-range view and a Father we know we can trust. And someday, as the song says, “It will be worth it all.”