OK, so, in my last post, I addressed the issue of rushing to judgment—a pattern of behavior to which many of us, myself included, are pathologically prone.
With your kind indulgence, as I continue in my exploration of this issue, I will move from the realm of theological analysis to personal experience.
On my freshman floor in college, I had a floor-mate who inspired within me a rush to judgment nearly every time I encountered him. (Have you ever known people who seemed to be so happy in their iniquity that you practically couldn’t help but want to place yourself in the position of their final judge?) His name was Perry, although he went by PJ. PJ’s sexual promiscuity was common knowledge. His fondness for alcohol brought him into a frequent condition of embarrassing and debilitating drunkenness. His disdain for what he called the hypocrisy of organized religion frequently found expression in his anti-church soliloquies.
For a long time I didn’t like him. Truthfully, the dislike was more like disdain. I hated what he represented, and every time I encountered him my self-righteousness inspired me to celebrate my moral superiority over him. “Whatever hell is,” I remember thinking to myself during those days, “this guy has a reserved seat there.” The problem was that this thought—the thought of his separation from God—didn’t sadden me at all. In fact, a part of me found a perverse glee in playing the role of the eternal judge and consigning him to his eternal judgment.
But here’s the thing. When another floor mate suddenly lost his father to a heart attack, PJ was the one who went to all of his professors and sorted things out. PJ was the one who drove him to the airport. And PJ was the only one from our floor who flew to the funeral. Before he left for the funeral, PJ showed to me the card that he was going to send to the family. I’ll never forget the moment that I read it. On the front of the card was a verse of Scripture: “Jesus said, ‘Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid’” (John 14:27). Inside the card, PJ had written something like this: “I am praying for all of you in this time of pain and loss.”
“PJ,” I said, “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”
“I never said that I didn’t believe it God. And I never said that I didn’t believe in Jesus. All that I said was that I have some serious problems with the church. But don’t tell anybody, OK?”
“Don’t tell anybody what?”
“Don’t tell anybody,” he said, “that I’m a closet Jesus guy. Let’s keep that our little secret.”
I saw PJ differently after that. Don’t misunderstand, I still believed that many portions of his behavior dishonored who it was that God created him to be, and he knew of my viewpoints concerning those matters. But I stopped despising him at that point. I stopped playing the role of his eternal judge. And I stopped lording myself over him in my self-established spiritual hierarchy.
In my encounters with PJ during those days, it became abundantly clear to me that there were portions of PJ’s heart that I did not know. Furthermore, it became clear to me that God was not finished with PJ yet, just as God was not finished with me yet. In that regard, PJ and I stood together at the foot of the cross. And, have you noticed how difficult it is to play the role of someone’s eternal judge after realizing that the person you want so desperately to judge is standing right beside you in the shadow of the cross?
Two thousand years ago, the Apostle Paul offered this teaching to Christians who were prone to rushing to judgment: “Do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, because he is the one who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart” (1 Corinthians 4:5). Those, I think, are important words for us. They are words that bring to us the truth that a rush to judgment cannot be accommodated by a slow and steady walk with Jesus Christ.
Up until about a year ago, I was a closet Jesus guy and I was quick to judge certain people. What I do now is treat everyone as I would like to be treated and pray that they do the same. It has made me a much better person.
I find myself rushing to judge others in those areas where I do not struggle (like those who drink, because alcohol just is not a temptation to me), but I don’t want others to judge me in areas in which I do struggle! Sometimes, if I were judged by the measure I use to judge others, I wouldn’t have a prayer! Thankfully, God’s grace abounds. Thanks for the reminder, Eric.
You should read “Glittering Images” by Susan Howatch. It’s a very theologically-informed novel about the fact that we don’t even have a total grasp of ourselves, so how dare we think we have a right to judge anyone else!