Not long ago, a guy came to our city. He arrived in a gigantic tour bus and he had a police escort and he stood on the steps of our Capital building and drew a great crowd. I was not surprised by his appearance. All around town, for weeks, there had been posted fliers and posters and placards announcing his arrival. I saw the announcements, made a mental note of the date, and reminded myself to avoid the area that day.
This guy and I? We do not see the world the same way. Despite the fact that we both love Jesus, the things this guy says often make me roll my eyes. Jesus knew this about us. He knew our salvation was no guarantee we’d always agree with one another.
By a clever turn of events, despite my best intentions, there I was: standing in the crowd when this certain guy came to our city. I prayed before I went, knowing all too well my propensity toward mumbling something unsavory under my breath and building a wall around my heart so no love can get in, or out. “God,” I said out loud to the air around me, “help me to see what you see.”
I stood on the sidewalk, struggling with myself to stop being judgmental. I confessed—moment after moment—my bad feelings about this guy and the throngs of people who’d come out to our city to show him their support.
All I can tell you is that I kept up a furious cycle of praying and confessing, praying and confessing, praying and confessing. I prayed that God would show me what he saw, and I confessed when I cast judgement on someone in the crowd.
Here’s the thing: It’s not our role to judge. That’s Jesus’ job, and he knows what he’s doing. My job, while standing in a crowd of people who see the world differently than I do, was to love them. Period. The end.
Jesus gave us clear instructions. If I’m wrong, he’ll let me know. If you’re wrong, I’ve got to trust the work of the Holy Spirit in your life to reveal your missteps to you. In the meantime, the very clear commandment we’ve been given boils down to four letters: L-O-V-E. When my motive is anything but love, I’m on my way down a slippery slope.
How do we get to love? We get there through a furious cycle of prayer and confession, prayer and confession, prayer and confession. We keep asking God to help us see what he sees, and we keep on confessing when we slip over into judgmental attitudes about other people.
Some Questions for You: Who are the people of faith that see the world differently than you? Have you been keeping them at arm’s length? Have you been judging them, or loving them?
Note: A version of this article first appeared at Life for Leaders. Life for Leaders is an online resource sponsored by the Max De Pree Center (Dr. Mark D. Roberts, executive director) at Fuller Theological Seminary. If you’re a leader and the idea of daily encouragement sounds intriguing to you, check out Life for Leaders, and subscribe for daily devotionals.
If I’d been in Lincoln I would have avoided it as well. Thanks for the reminder of praying, confessing. I want to love people like Jesus does too.
Deidre,
There you go again…calling me out. I don’t particularly like it, but I love and trust you, and respect your anointing, so I’ll just knuckle under and then say “amen.”
Thank you for speaking truth.
Chelle
I think this is just part of the story for me. I’m on a journey, here. After that event, I contacted the ministry this person leads. I didn’t contact them because of the event, but because of some interactions on the FB page that troubled me. I was trying to follow the instructions in Matthew 18, to the best of my ability. That passage is one of the reasons I’ve not used this person’s name. Yet. The answers I received from the representatives at the ministry were insufficient, in my opinion. But the people were kind and were—I imagine—telling me what they were told to tell me. I think there’s a time for speaking up. I think there’s a time for calling people out. That day might be coming for me. 😉
D-
I am so very much with you. I struggle with Matthew 18 but never give up on it. I fully respect you for calling out the behavior and not the person; it’s never about the people but about their responsibility (and ours) for what they do or say, but yes, it is a journey and as the old folks would say, more than a notion. As I walk toward wisdom, I find myself far more comfortable with gentle truth-telling, mostly to myself, but always in love. We are responsible for living what we profess, or we are allowed to be called out on it.
Keep telling truth, sis. I cheer, and holler’ and stand guard beside you, ’cause every prophet needs a Simon Peter…I’m just sayin…
I love this, Deidra. Thank you.
I was there that day too, curious about what he might say. I wasn’t sorry I went. There was something beautiful about a bunch of strangers singing together on the steps of the Capitol, “you are the everlasting God.” But something about it didn’t feel right. I wanted to scream, “Is it really that easy? Is everybody really capable and qualified to govern others?” I didn’t disagree completely, but I didn’t agree either. And I find myself feeling the same way in my local church some days. I hate the critical spirit that emerges in me. It’s so disheartening to think believers who love the same God can’t agree, but we are human, I guess. And love? I tell you what, girl, love is so tough sometimes. Thanks for your courage in vocalizing the struggle, and for the reminder to pray and confess. Constantly. Amen.
To be fair, he said two things with which I agreed. So, there’s that. 🙂
I’ve been trying to figure out what bothered me so much about that event and, for me, it boils down to a person manipulating the scriptures to his personal (or, in this case professional and/or political) advantage. I had to process my experience with a few friends before I was able to articulate this, though. You said, “But something about it didn’t feel right.” I think those are the moments to pay attention. To press in. To offer up to God so he can give us clarity.
I hear you about that fight with a critical spirit. I think I’ll be wrestling that one to the grave. I feel so righteous in my criticism, sometimes.