Skip to main content

Judgment

No one likes to think they are judgmental, but the fact is- many of us are. We think things about people we see, hear, read about or even encounter tangentially. Regrettably, people do this to us as well. Think about yourself on a really bad day- someone may have that one encounter with you, which will ever color their impression of the kind of person you are.

My sister and I sometimes use a rhyme we swiped from another source. We know (and acknowledge) that we are having a judgmental conversation, we occasionally say, "Judgy-wudgy was a bear..." This is a major corruption of the children's rhyme "Fuzzy Wuzzy", but it is useful within our conversations.

However, judgment can be a bear- one that claws at your own sense of self and personal understanding. When you actually think about what you're doing, it causes internal pain because being judgmental is probably not how you picture yourself. Similar to our discussion of the retention of sins yesterday, judgment eats away at you more that the person you're judging.

We can't always help the thoughts that come to our mind, but we can work on how we respond to them and how they control us. Say a prayer for the person you see begging. See if you can help a person struggling with a door or packages. Think before you speak to someone you know well. All of these things are good to do for other people, but also good to do for ourselves... we feel better when we do good things than when we don't.

We know that we do nothing to earn our salvation and it is the work of the Holy Spirit we are able to believe in that gift. However, sometimes when we are nice to someone else, when we turn away from the bear of judgment, we are able to behold the joy of our salvation in our hearts. The goodness we feel in our hearts is, in part, a small reflection of the love and joy God holds out for us.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Latibule

I like words and I recently discovered Save the Words , a website which allows you to adopt words that have faded from the English lexicon and are endanger of being dropped from the Oxford English Dictionary. When you adopt a word, you agree to use it in conversation and writing in an attempt to re-introduce said word back into regular usage. It is exactly as geeky as it sounds. And I love it. A latibule is a hiding place. Use it in a sentence, please. After my son goes to bed, I pull out the good chocolate from my latibule and have a "mommy moment". The perfect latibule was just behind the northwest corner of the barn, where one had a clear view during "Kick the Can". She tucked the movie stub into an old chocolate box, her latibule for sentimental souvenirs. I like the sound of latibule, though I think I would spend more time defining it and defending myself than actually using it. Come to think of it, I'm not really sure how often I use the ...

What is Best (Sermon)

Pentecost 15 (Year A)  Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-9; Psalm 15; James 1:17-27;  Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 I recently read a novel set in a post-pandemic, apocalyptic world. In the book, people were working to re-establish pockets of society. A traveling symphony moved from town to town in caravans- performing music and works of Shakespeare. Early in their travels, they had tried other plays, but people only wanted to see Shakespearean works. One of the symphony members commented on the desire for Shakespeare, "People want what was best about the world." As I read and since I finished the book, I kept thinking about that phrase.  People want what was best about the world. People want what was best about the world. That is true even when we’re not in a cataclysmic re-working of what we’ve always known. The very idea of nostalgia, of longing for what once was, is about wanting what was best about the world or what seemed like the best to us. One of the massive tension...

Would I Do?

Palm Sunday Mark 11:1-11 One of my core memories is of a parishioner who said, "I don't think I would have been as brave as the three in the fiery furnace. I think I would have just bowed to the king. I would have bowed and known in my heart that I still loved God. I admire them, but I can tell the truth that I wouldn't have done it." (Daniel 3) To me, this man's honesty was just as brave. In front of his fellow Christians, in front of his pastor, he owned up to his own facts: he did not believe he would have had the courage to resist the pressures of the king. He would have rather continued to live, being faithful in secret, than risk dying painfully and prematurely for open obedience to God.  I can respect that kind of truth-telling. None of us want to be weighed in the balance and found wanting. For some of us, that's our greatest fear. The truth is, however, that I suspect most of us are not as brave as we think we are. The right side of history seems cle...