It Takes One to Know One

 

It Takes One to Know One

It Takes One to Know One - Audio/Visual 

But if you think that leaves you on the high ground where you can point your finger at others, think again. Every time you criticize someone, you condemn yourself. It takes one to know one. Judgmental criticism of others is a well-known way of escaping detection in your own crimes and misdemeanors. But God isn’t so easily diverted. He sees right through all such smoke screens and holds you to what you’ve done. (Romans 2:1-2 MSG)

Do you know what disturbs me most about Jeffrey Dahmer? Not his acts, though they were horrific. Dahmer was convicted of 17 murders; 11 corpses were found in his apartment. He cut off arms and ate body parts to construct an altar of skeletons in his living room. The thesaurus has 204 synonyms for the word “vile,” but each fall far short of describing a man who kept skulls in his refrigerator and hoarded a human heart. He redefined the boundary for brutality. But that's not what troubles me most.

Do you really want to know what troubles me most? No, not his trial either, disturbing as it was – with all those pictures of him sitting serenely in court, face frozen; motionless. No sign of remorse, no hint of regret. Remember those steely eyes and impassive face? But it wasn’t the trial that troubled me most. There’s another reason. No, it wasn’t his punishment either, though sixteen successive life terms are hardly a quid pro quo for his actions, which should have been seventeen, but he couldn’t remember killing his first victim. What troubles me most about the Milwaukee monster is his conversion.

Months before an inmate murdered him, Dahmer became a Christian. Said he repented. Said he was sorry. Said he put his faith in Christ. Was baptized. Started life over. Began reading Christian books and attending chapel. Sins washed. Soul cleansed. Past forgiven. That troubles me. Grace for a cannibal? Maybe you feel the same way. And if not about Dahmer, then maybe someone else. Ever wrestled with the deathbed conversion of a rapist, or the eleventh-hour conversion of a child molester? We've sentenced them, maybe not in court, but in our hearts. We've put them behind bars and locked the door. They’re forever imprisoned by our disgust. And then, the impossible happens. They repent. Our response? We cross our arms, furrow our brows and say, "God won't let you off that easy. Not after what you did. God’s kind, but he's no wimp. Grace is for average sinners like me, not deviants like you."

And for proof we turn to Romans 1. "God's anger is being shown against . . . ," and then Paul lists it all: sexual sin, evil, selfishness, hatred, jealousy, murder. (Vv. 26-30) We want to shout, "Go get 'em, Paul! It's about time someone spoke out against sin. It's high time someone pulled back the blanket on adultery and turned the light on dishonesty. Nail those perverts. String up those porn peddlers. We'll stand by you, Paul! We decent, law-abiding folk are with you!" Paul's response? "If you think that leaves you on the high ground where you can point your finger at others, think again. Every time you criticize someone, you condemn yourself. It takes one to know one." (Rom. 2:1) Whoops.

In Romans 1, Paul confronts the hedonists. In chapter 2, he deals with another group – the judgmental moralists: those who "pass judgment on someone else." (2:1) Somewhere between the escort service and the church service there’s the person who "points [his] finger at others." "Therefore, you have no excuse, O man, whoever you are, when you judge another; for in passing judgment upon him you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things." (2:1 RSV)

Who is this person, this “whoever you are”? It’s anyone who filters God's grace through his own opinions. Anyone who dilutes God's mercy with his own prejudices. He’s the prodigal son's elder brother who wouldn't attend the party. (Luke 15:11-32) He’s the ten-hour worker, upset because the one-hour worker got the same paycheck. (Matt. 20:1-16) He’s the fault-finding brother obsessed by his brother's sins and oblivious to his own. If you "think you can judge others," (Rom. 2:1) Paul has a stern reminder for you: it's not your job to hold the gavel. "God judges those who do wrong things, and we know that his judging is right." (v. 2) The key word here is judges because it's one thing to have an opinion, but it's quite another to pass a verdict.

It's one thing to have a conviction; it's another to convict the person. It's one thing to be repulsed by the acts of a Jeffrey Dahmer; it's another entirely to claim that I am superior, or that he’s beyond God’s grace. It's our job to hate the sin, but it's God's job to deal with the sinner. God has called us to despise evil, but he has never called us to despise the evildoer. But we’d like to. Is there anything more satisfying than judging others? There’s something smug and self-satisfying about putting on the robe, stepping behind the bench and slamming down the gavel. Besides, judging others is the quick and easy way to feel good about ourselves. A convenience-store ego-boost of a sort. Standing next to all the Hitler’s and Dahmer’s of the world, we boast, "Look, God! Compared to them, I'm not that bad." But that's the problem.

God doesn't compare us to them. They aren't the standard. God is. And compared to him, Paul argues, "there is no one who does anything good." (Rom. 3:12) Here’s an example. Suppose God simplified matters and reduced the entire Bible to one command: "Thou shalt jump so high in the air that you touch the moon." No need to love your neighbor, or pray, or follow Jesus; just jump up and touch the moon and you'll be saved. We'd never make it. There may be a few who jump three or four feet, even fewer who jump five or six; but compared to the distance we have to go, no one gets very far. Though you may jump six inches higher than I do, that’s not much of a reason to boast.

Granted, God hasn't called us to touch the moon, but he might as well have. He said, "You must be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect." (Matt. 5:48) But none of us can meet God's standard. As a result, none of us deserves to put on the robe, sit behind the bench and judge others. Why? We aren't good enough. Dahmer may jump six inches, and you may jump six feet, but compared to the 238,894 miles that remain, who can boast? It borders on the comical. But those of us who jump three feet look at the fellow who jumped one inch and say, "What a lousy jump." Why do we do that?

It's a ploy. Because as long as I’m thinking of your weaknesses, then I don't have to think about my own. As long as I’m looking at your puny jump, then I don't have to be honest about my own. I'm like the man who went to see the psychiatrist with a turtle on his head and a strip of bacon dangling from each ear and said, "I'm here to talk to you about my brother."

It's the universal strategy of impunity. Today, it’s called projection and even kids use it. “If I can get Dad angrier at my brother than me, I'm off scot-free.” So, I accuse. I compare. Rather than admit my own faults, I find faults in others. The easiest way to justify the mistakes in my house is to find worse ones at my neighbor's. Nice try, but those scams don't work with God. Read Paul's words carefully.

“God isn't so easily diverted. He sees right through all the smoke screens and holds you to what you’ve done. You didn't think, did you, that just by pointing your finger at others you’d distract God from coming down on you hard? Or did you think that just because he's such a nice God, he'd let you off the hook? Better think that one through from the beginning. God is kind, but he's not soft. In kindness he takes us firmly by the hand and leads us into a radical life change.” (Rom. 2:3-4) We just aren't good enough to judge. Can the hungry accuse the beggar? Can the sick mock the ill? Can the sinner condemn the sinner? No. Only One can judge, and that One is neither the one writing nor reading these words.

But not only are we unworthy, we’re unqualified. We don't know enough about the person to judge him. We don't know enough about her past. We condemn a man for stumbling this morning, but we didn't see the blows he took yesterday. We judge a woman for the limp in her walk but can’t see the tack in her shoe. We mock the fear in their eyes but have no idea how many stones they’ve ducked, or darts they’ve dodged. Are they too loud? Maybe they fear being neglected again. Are they too timid? Maybe they fear failing again. Too slow? Maybe they fell the last time they hurried. We just don't know. Only one who has followed yesterday’s steps can be their judge.

But not only do we not know enough about their past, we’re ignorant about their tomorrow. Can we judge a book while chapters are still unwritten? Should we pass a verdict on a painting while the artist still holds the brush? How can you dismiss a soul until God's work is complete? "God began doing a good work in you, and I am sure he will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again." (Phil. 1:6) So we need to be careful. The Peter who denies Jesus at tonight's fire may be the very same person who proclaims him with fire at tomorrow's Pentecost. The Samson who’s blind and weak today, may use his final strength to level the pillars of godlessness tomorrow. A stammering shepherd in this generation may be the mighty Moses of the next. And don't call Noah a fool; you may be asking him for a lift – especially in light of this week’s rains transported on an atmospheric river. "Do not judge before the right time; wait until the Lord comes." (1 Cor. 4:5)

A condemned criminal was sent to his death by his country. In his final moments, he asked for mercy. Had he asked for mercy from the people, it would have been denied. Had he asked it of the government, it would have been declined. Had he asked it of his victims, they’d have turned a deaf ear. But it wasn't to these he turned for grace. He turned instead to the bloodied form of the One who hung on the cross next to his and pleaded, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus answered by saying, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." (Luke 23:42-43)

As far as we know, Jeffrey Dahmer did the same thing. And as far as we know, Jeffrey Dahmer got the same response. And when you think about it, the request Dahmer made is no different than yours or mine. He may have made it from a prison bunk, and you may make it from a church pew, but from heaven's angle we're all asking for the moon. And by heaven’s grace we all receive it.

Grace,

Randy