Ever had this happen to you?
You see a brother who appears to be engaged in some sort of sinful
activity. You approach them with
concern, only to be told, “Judge not, lest ye be judged!”
Never mind the fact that this person would never use the
words “lest” or “ye” in any other context, and that they only partially quoted
a Scripture and couldn’t narrow down it’s location to anything more than
“somewhere in the Bible”, it shut you up, didn’t it? Because you
know, whether the person quoting knew it or not, that Jesus really did say
that.
Look at the actual passage.
I’m sure you know where it is, but just in case, it’s at Matthew 7:1-2, “Do not judge, or you
too will be judged. For in the same way
you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be
measured to you.”
That seems pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? Unless … we read these verses from Paul: 1 Corinthians 6:1-3, “When one of you
has a grievance against another, does he dare go to law before the unrighteous
instead of the saints? Or do you not
know that the saints will judge the world? And if the world is to be judged by
you, are you incompetent to try trivial cases?
Do you not know that we are to judge angels? How much more, then,
matters pertaining to this life!”
Wait a minute, did Paul just contradict Jesus? Are we supposed to judge or not? Or, maybe it’s OK to judge angels but not
people?
Before we answer that question, let’s look back at what
Jesus said next back there in Matthew 7:3-5,
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no
attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take
the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?
You hypocrite, first take the plank out
of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your
brother’s eye.”
Now, if I see a speck of sawdust in my brother’s eye, I’m
just supposed to ignore it, right? No,
that’s not what it says, is it? What I’m
supposed to do is take the plank out of my own eye, and then I’m supposed to
remove the speck in my brother’s eye.
(i.e., my problem is bigger than his!)
Go back to my first paragraph. This brother (or sister) I have seen engaged
in sin, how did I approach them? With a
purity of heart or self-righteousness?
Years ago, Joe Martin drew a cartoon depicting the “lowest level of
authority”. A guy in a jail cell is
looking out a window and shouting at someone (we can’t see), “Hey, you! Get away from there!” Is my approach to my brother the same? Is he going to look at me and see the log in
my eye (or the jail of my sins surrounding me) and think, “Who’s this guy to
tell me anything?”
Or, will he—or she—see someone who, as Paul admonishes
elsewhere, speaks the truth in love?
See, what our world wants to object to—and we Christians
have let them set the standard here—is to eliminate both judging and
judgment. What’s the difference? It’s a poor illustration, but maybe I know
from previous conversations that you are a recovering alcoholic and I see you
going into the liquor store. Judgment, informed by a heart that is
given over to God, sees that and reaches out in love to give you a hand.
To give you a friendly and helpful reminder to stay on the wagon.
Judging, on the
other hand (and this is what’s condemned), sees you entering that liquor store
and pronounces, “Well, that guy’s lost!
He’s off the wagon and drinking again.
No point in wasting any more time on him!” The self-righteous log in my own eye has made
this pronouncement because I am seeing myself as God’s judge, jury and
executioner.
Judgment, which is
encouraged, combined with love, means I approach you. Maybe I find out you’re not off the wagon,
you’re just needing a lot of boxes to help a friend move and everyone knows the
best place for boxes is a liquor store.
Or, maybe you were just about to jump off the wagon. If I have approached in love, as a brother,
you might be a little embarrassed or even chagrined, but you’re eventually
thankful.
And see, within this, is another element that is often left
out of this equation: brother. (Or
sister.) Both Jesus and Paul are talking
about our relationships with people who are in the kingdom
of God with us. You know, elsewhere, Paul says the first
piece of godly armor we are to put on is the “belt of truth”. I am convinced this is not just the belt of
“telling the truth” but of also “hearing the truth”. I don’t like having my faults and sins
pointed out to me, but then again, I know it needs to be done. Sometimes, I don’t take the correction too
well at first, but if I’m letting the Holy Spirit work on me, I come to see its
value.
The world (or Satan, who’s leading this charge) doesn’t want
us to think this way. If I see a brother
or sister in Christ doing something questionable, I’m just supposed to shut up
and not say anything because “who am I to judge?” Where does that attitude get us, though? “Little” sins that grow into big problems
because they were never addressed. I’m
not saying we take after the Enemy and prowl around like a roaring lion,
looking for someone to devour, but in our dealings with our brothers and
sisters in Christ, let’s hold each other up to a loving, Godly standard. Use the judgment he has given us. And when the logs are out of our own eyes, he
says we’ll be able to see the speck in our brother’s eye better.
Good article, Steve. Not sure how it's a reply to what I wrote :-), but glad to read it! (& I agree)
ReplyDeleteGood observations on Judgement Sam. I've wrestled with that a bit myself. I've always felt like I should keep the focus on Him and not them. And I should let Him sort it out. But now I see that turning my back may also be a form of judgement. Instead of rushing to judge, offering to help - after making sure I'm not in a worse mess - might be the better path. I've always been leery of coming off as self-righteous in my approach to others. So I've tended to just keep my mouth shut. Because of that, I've probably missed a few opportunities to offer a hand when it was needed and may have been appreciated.
ReplyDeleteI struggle with that all the time, Robert. Sometimes, I think I've done what I was supposed to do, but too often I have either done nothing (and hoped it worked itself out) or rushed in and done the wrong thing.
ReplyDelete