Judgment Without Mercy

“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Matt. 7:2

No one likes being judged. It feels rotten, especially when we look into someone’s eyes we once experienced warmth and acceptance from, only to find a cold stare instead. We can often sense this judgment without words, and it’s painful to say the least. But acting as judge over others can be habit forming as it gives us temporary comfort. We look at a person’s circumstances and the decisions they’ve made, then get out our pen and paper and begin scratching down equations that place our victim in some kind of manageable category. These judgments become the tools we use to make sense of failures and imperfections. They lull us into believing that we 'll prevail in the face of similar challenges -- if we’ll but respond differently.

I’ve been on both the giving and receiving end of merciless judgment, and I’m learning the reality of Matt. 7:2. God is teaching me just how terrible it feels to be judged so that I might repent of a lifelong pattern of sizing others up to make myself feel and look better. I realize that behind judgment is the desire to play God, to “figure his plans out”, to exalt myself and to calm anxiety over future uncertainties. If I’m able to blame the person for the mess they’ve gotten themselves into, it keeps me from fearing that I’ll end up in the same predicament.

Though I have no idea how God orchestrates it, I know he means business in fulfilling this promise: “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged.” If I choose to show justice with no mercy, God will allow me to know similar merciless justice, not because he wants to destroy me, but because he wants me to grow and repent. I’ve spent many years blaming certain people in my life for their mistakes and feeling superior in many ways because I don’t have the same weaknesses. But God is showing me that my weaknesses, though different, are just as sinful and harmful to others.

I woke up this morning with a broken heart over my sin. This is nothing short of miraculous, since I’ve been able to hide it by focusing on the shortcomings of others. I don’t know why God decided to break through to my stony heart this morning, or why the revelation hurts so much, but I’m thankful for what he’s doing. As much as I hate looking at my sin, and as much as I want desperately to deny its reality, I want more than anything to change. I want to leave judgment to God, to put away my assessment tools and let God be the judge.

God's Unsearchable Ways

     About twenty five years ago, I drove up to a massive church building in Jackson, MS, where I began training in Evangelism Explosion. I’d been a Christian for about a year and wanted to learn how to share the Gospel with friends and family. I still remember the small perforated note cards that I tore apart, put on a ring and carried with me for the next six months. The same note cards traveled with us in various boxes and drawers through all our moves over the past eighteen years. Often, the only time I looked at them was when I was rummaging around for something else.
     Last year, I came across them again but in a uniquely different way. Since we didn’t bring any of our belongings with us when we moved to Korea, the note cards were left behind in some unmarked box in our storage room. God was giving me a newfound desire to share the Gospel with my students, so I spent time searching the internet for presentations that were in both English and Korean. That’s when I stumbled across the Evangelism Explosion website, wrote a note to someone asking for more  information and received my very first copy of the presentation in Korean!
     Just last week, as we were finishing up the semester, I pulled out my computer copy of EE and passed around the Gospel to the students in their own language. After sharing in my classes, it dawned on me that God doesn’t waste anything. The training I received so long ago and had almost forgotten became a useful tool in a country I never dreamed I’d be living in. But God knew. He knew when he led me to that first class in Mississippi that I would one day share the same message in Asia.
     I'm astounded by God's wisdom and sovereignty in orchestrating situations like these. It gives me great comfort as I look at other seemingly forgotten endeavors I’ve stuffed in a drawer somewhere. If God doesn’t waste anything, then I can count on him to use these life experiences in ways I could never have imagined.  I can trust that even though I have no idea what my future holds, I belong to a God who is able to masterfully put together bits and pieces from my past and make them into something beautiful to bless others in the present.

“Oh, how great are God's riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways!” Rom 11:33

 

 

Up from the Ashes

     I've never lost a home to a fire, but I’ve witnessed my grandmother's possessions burn to the ground leaving almost nothing behind. All those years of stored memories and treasures were gone in an instant; their charred remains lay unrecognizable on the ground. As my family stood helplessly by wondering how they could surmount such a loss, I was confident that over time, with God’s help, they would find healing and renewal.
     That hope, or certainty, that God will step in and restore what’s been lost is what propels me on each day as I wake up in a place that’s not my home with an ache for our daughter who is thousands of miles away. As our older daughter, who is now a senior, dashes about trying to get out the door in time for school, I’m reminded that she too will be off to college soon, leaving me with an empty home and heart. As these scenarios play out in my mind, it’s only through God’s promises that I find comfort and understanding. God is good and overflowing with compassion. I believe that with all my heart. I know that He looks upon my losses with tenderness, but the house continues to burn. So I struggle to make sense of it; I wrestle to merge the reality of life’s disappointments with his promises.
        At the moment, I’m standing outside looking up at the smoke, watching much of what I’ve worked for seemingly disappear into nothing.  The fumes burn my eyes as I strain to assess what’s salvageable. I see remnants of memories scorched by the fire, too damaged to keep but still reminding me of life in that place we once called family. I can’t sit here forever. God is calling me to come, to rise up from the ashes and to follow him, my husband and my daughters as they continue on their faith journey.
     The sun shines brilliantly over the horizon as I finally pick up my suitcases and turn to follow. Mark keeps calling and motioning for me to come; I hear the girls’ laughter and see their dancing figures ahead. With each step the air becomes fresher, clearer. The dread that held me back gives way to a sense of courage as I look upon the beauty and freedom in the distance.  On the ground just beneath my feet tiny flowers are starting to bloom. Tips of pink, yellow and violet peek from under their dusty brown covering, promising new life. I glance at the sunshine sparkling on the water and the trees peacefully swaying in the wind, then back down at the delicate buds on the verge of something miraculous. God reminds me that he’s got a good plan for my future, one I didn’t see or understand, but one filled with meaning and purpose. Hope is calling me up from the ashes-- not to forget the past, but to turn my gaze upon his promises so that I can be fully alive in the present and future -- free to build new memories and experience his joyful restoration.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer 29:11