Judging
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)
You know what
disturbs me most about Jeffrey Dahmer? Not his acts, though they were horrific.
Dahmer was convicted of seventeen murders. Eleven corpses were found in his
apartment. He cut off arms and ate body parts. The thesaurus has 204 synonyms
for the word, “vile,” but each falls 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.
You know what
troubles me most about Jeffrey Dahmer? Not his trial, as 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 there’s another reason. Know what really troubles me
about Jeffrey Dahmer? Not his punishment, though life without parole is hardly
a quid pro quo for his actions. How
many years could satisfy justice? A lifetime in jail for every life he took?
But that's not what troubles me most. What troubles me most 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. 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 and 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 opinion. Anyone who dilutes God's mercy with his own prejudice. 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.
It's one thing
to have an opinion. 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's 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. Standing next to all the Mussolini’s
and Hitler’s and Dahmer’s of the world, we boast, "Look, God! Compared to
them, I'm not too 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
what I mean. Suppose God simplified matters and reduced the 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.
Now, 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) None
of us can meet God's standard. As a result, none of us deserves to put on the
robe and stand 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.
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. 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. 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 his 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, too. 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 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. 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. "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
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