“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Luke 6:37-38 (NIV).

My friend Kathy is an amazing Christian, who wants to share God’s love with everyone she meets. A few years ago, she invited me to meet her at a local strip club, so we could tell her friends, who work there, how much God treasures them. Kathy told me, many of these dancers didn’t want anything to do with Christianity because of things church people had done to them. Since I’m also bitter about church culture, she knew I’d fit right in. That night, I was amazed by the beautiful souls of the dancers I met. I was so inspired by these women that I continued to work in strip club ministries for a long time after that first night. Though the ladies who worked in the clubs had very different stories than mine, I loved the community I found with them. I never struggled to talk to them, to see their strength, or to sincerely desire the best possible life for each one of them.

On the other hand, it was always a struggle for me to deal with how much I hated the men in the clubs. See, there are often abusive jerks in the clubs, who think having a little money means they can talk to women like they’re garbage. I have seriously sat and prayed, “God help me not punch this guy in the throat.” I hated them. My rage towards these jerks extended to all the men in the clubs, and it blinded me to seeing them as anything else. It took a lot for God to change my heart in this area. Softening my heart took years. I struggled. Not just a little, I intensely struggled with emotionally unhealthy vengeful hate.

In the last chapter, I mentioned praying for abusers. My most memorable experience of praying for abusers, took place as I drove to a strip club one night. I vented to God. I was bitter, self-righteous, and full of hatred. I despised the abuse I had seen, but I didn’t want to see the whole picture. I wanted people to blame. I saw my friends only as strong survivors and their customers only as abusive jerks. The messes in this world are seldom so neatly divided. Obviously, I still had a long way to go on my journey towards fully living in the peace and hope Jesus provides.

As I drove, I ranted to God about my whole, ugly, hate-filled mess. Finally, the truth about my attitude came out. I said, “OK God, why aren’t you fixing this?” There it was. My real issue: I was still mad at God for the things I’d been through.

Honestly, I didn’t struggle so much with the abuse I endured. I was angry about the shame heaped on me by church people. Why didn’t God break through and yell at them? Why didn’t he make it clear how much he cared about me? As I was recovering, I needed to know he still loved me. Unfortunately, people who should have told me how much God still loved me, told me he didn’t let bad things happen to people who love him. They told me I was “forgiven”, but I’d always have to pay for my mistakes. The way they misrepresented God, filled me with bitterness. It tainted everything I did. I desperately wanted to protect my friends, who are dancers, from ever feeling the shame I felt. Deep down, I also didn’t want to deal with the anger I felt towards God. My anger towards God was too raw and painful to face, so I stuffed it. But stuffed emotions never stay stuffed, so mine came out as hatred towards the men.

Somehow, when I finally voiced my real frustration, in my car that night, I had a sense of how incredibly beautiful God’s way really is. I knew those church people were wrong. Now, so was I. I was reminded of a truth I didn’t want to believe: “Hate doesn’t change anyone”. Though I knew this was true, in that moment, hate felt better and I wasn’t ready to let go of it. So, while driving, I angrily blurted out, “OK God, I see it, but if you want me to care about these guys you are going to have to do it through me. I can’t do what you’re asking.”

I want you to know, this was not a nice eloquent prayer session. I was angry. I was yelling in my car like a crazy woman. I was real about all the pain I saw and how much I hated it. I was arrogant and bold. Little did I know, I was about to be humbled, yet profoundly honored. God was about to show me a glimpse of how he sees the men I hated.

As I went into the club, I forgot all about my prayer and began joking around with my friends. I didn’t associate my ranting prayer with anything that could happen that night. Simply because, I did not talk to the men, ever. I was merely going to avoid them, as usual, while hating them a little less. Turns out, God was preparing me to meet Greg, a man who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and needed to know how much God still loves him.

Greg came up to talk to the dancer I was talking to. I tried to slip away unobtrusively, but my friend said, “This lady is a Christian, you should talk to her.” So, Greg turned to me, not for a conversation, but to tell me how much he hated religion.

I listened to Greg’s rant. Amazingly, God was honoring the challenge I had issued earlier: “If you want me to care, you are going to have to do it through me.”

As Greg continued his story, I knew God was working on me. Despite my bitterness, I heard the deep hurt behind Greg’s angry complaints about the religion forced on him as a child. He had experienced rejection and shame for not living up to their standards.

After a while, Greg finished his beer. He turned to me with a sudden seriousness and said, “I don’t want Jesus to forgive me because I don’t deserve it.”

The anger in his voice turned to despair as Greg told me the story of his sophomore year in college. He had pressured his roommate, who had just broken up with his girlfriend, to go to a party with him. His roommate never drank but gave in because he was feeling low. Greg remembered handing his roommate a drink with the promise, “this will fix you.”. He had no idea how depressed his roommate really was that night. After just a few drinks, his roommate jumped onto a motorcycle; sped up the curvy mountain roads; then drove off of the only overlook with a broken guardrail. Greg never forgot getting the news of his friend’s suicide.

As he sat there beside me in a strip club, recounting this trauma from over twenty years ago, I began to actually see Greg. I saw how he was weighed down by guilt. I saw how he blamed himself for all kinds of problems around him. I saw a desperate, hurting soul looking for solace in the company of these dancers. I saw a glimpse of how God sees him. I saw hope for him. I saw how he struggled with the same shame that Jesus had freed me from.

When Greg said, “I don’t deserve Jesus’ forgiveness.”, I saw the glaring truth of my hypocrisy. I remembered that I too had said the same thing to God twenty years earlier. As a young overwhelmed mother, I had cried out to God. “I can’t raise these children. I’m too messed up. I don’t deserve them.” Like Greg, I felt I didn’t deserve good things in my life because of what I’d done. My path was different from Greg’s. I dealt with my shame by throwing myself into church work. But, no matter how good I got at following the rules in church, I couldn’t shake my shame. I knew I could never measure up and never deserve God working in my life. Like Greg, I knew how much I didn’t deserve forgiveness.

When I finally got to the point of desperation where I cried out: “I can’t do this. I don’t deserve my children.” I came to the end of me. I got quiet and I listened. I felt the calming, peaceful presence of God reminding me of the story of the Apostle Paul. Paul was responsible for the deaths and imprisonment of many early Christians. God completely forgave him and empowered him to be one of the key leaders of the early Christian community. In comparison to Paul, it seemed ridiculous to think God couldn’t work with my mistakes. I didn’t deserve forgiveness. Thankfully, God gave it anyway, and he also empowered me to accept it.

Yet, here I was, all these years later, condemning all these men for the sins I saw in them. Why was I so ready to see people like Greg as hopeless, when I knew God didn’t see him that way?

After a while, Greg didn’t want to hear any more. He ended our conversation with, “Listen. I know all about your religion. I can’t follow all of those rules. I just think Jesus wants me to care about people.”

I told him he was absolutely right on both points and God still loves him. He shushed me and said, “He shouldn’t”

I didn’t push anymore. I simply promised Greg I would be praying for him.

This morning as I read Luke 6, I remembered exactly how judgmental I can be. I haven’t seen Greg in years. But I still pray for him to know how much God longs to walk through this life with him, to give him the peace, healing and hope he has been seeking.

It is crazy miraculous, (like healing the blind kind of stuff!) that I ever talked to Greg. It is proof of how much God wants to reach out to him. Literally, twenty minutes before I went into the club, I would have immediately judged him and refused to talk to him. Graciously, God broke through my judgmental pride to give me a glimpse of how he sees Greg.

I thank God for being so patient with me. I thank him for being way more loving and accepting than I can ever comprehend. I thank God for not giving up on the Gregs in this world, who don’t know how loved they are. I also thank God for being patient with the religious Cindys of this world, who get a little bit better, then think they can condemn the rest of the planet for not living up to our messed-up standards.

Before you judge me too harshly, remember this not judging thing is hard. If you don’t think so, then you aren’t doing it right! Our society seems to thrive on judging other people. I mean let’s all be honest and admit: deep down, wouldn’t we all love to be Judge Judy and hand out sassy judgments to everyone we find annoying? Our desire to justify ourselves by condemning others is why Jesus’ calling in Luke 6:37-38 is seriously hard stuff.

In those verses, Jesus calls his follower to be gracious in how we see people, forgive freely and give generously. Thankfully, Jesus didn’t simply throw out these commands then say, “Good luck with that. I’m watching.”

In the rest of Luke 6, Jesus taught some pretty amazing points to free us from being shame-filled judgers.

Consider carefully who you follow.

Jesus continued by saying “Can the blind lead the blind? Will they not both fall into a pit? The student is not above the teacher, but everyone who is fully trained will be like their teacher.” Luke 6:39-40 (NIV).

We aren’t supposed to “judge” in a negative, hypocritical sense but we are supposed to make wise judgments about who we follow. Don’t expect anyone to lead you somewhere they aren’t going. If you want to be gracious in your assumptions of others (non-judgmental), forgiving, and generous, then you need to actively seek leaders who model these traits.

Sounds like no-brainer advice until you think about how often we surround ourselves with people who make us feel better, instead of people who challenge us to be better. Real growth comes from finding people who will confront us in our shortcomings and model areas where we want to grow.

Deal with the mess in your life so you can help others with theirs.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” Luke 6:41-43 (NIV).

Jesus uses an exaggerated word picture to tell us two things: First, we all need to deal with our own mess. Secondly, there is actually very little we can accurately judge in other people’s lives.

Seeing our own mess accurately is no easy task. I often joke that denial is my favorite coping skill. One clear indicator that I’m denying my own mess: when I judge people harshly, it is because of something I’m not willing to deal with in myself. For example, in my opening story, I judged the men harshly because of “my plank” which was me being angry with God.

When we refuse to deal with the messes in our lives, they don’t go away. They pop up everywhere and influence everything we do. They have power over us. They become a nagging voice of shame, constantly telling us we are not good enough. We compensate by comparing ourselves to others. We look for problems in their lives so we can say, “See. I’m not so bad.” We live with the shame of trying to deny our messy plank, and we compensate by being judgmental.

Jesus’ advice frees us from the cycle of personal shame and doubts which cause us to judge others. He gives us the power to deal with all of our real issues, our deep hurts, and our shame. Healing all of these hurts can be a long process. Sometimes, we just aren’t ready to admit our deepest hurts. Amazingly, even while we are in the process of simply admitting the hurts are there, Jesus provides freedom. When we admit we have a “plank”, it frees us to know we are going to deal with it. We no longer have to stuff our deepest pains and pretend we are “OK”. We get to admit, we aren’t OK, but we will be! The peace we find from Jesus’ acceptance of us and our “messy plank”, frees us from the need to build ourselves up through judging others.

But what about the speck? Are we supposed to just deny other people have problems? Surely, we are supposed to help.

Absolutely, we should help other people with their problems. We just need to realize; we only see the tip of the iceberg. We don’t know all of their struggles. We only see a speck of their pain and the struggles in their lives. Of course, we should help people with problems we see. We just need to be sure we start with a humble attitude, which comes from being fully aware of our own mess, God’s patient grace with us, and our very limited perspective. This humble attitude frees us from condemning others.

Years of working with at-risk youth has given me unique insight into our “plank-eyed” tendencies to judge with condemning certainty, based on a “speck” of information. For example, I always think of Matt, one of my favorite students of all time. Matt was a young man with a huge heart and a tough home life. His mom worked two jobs just trying to make ends meet. His father was not in the picture and his older brother was a drug addict who, at seventeen years old, had already been arrested twice. Matt did everything he could to help his mom. He was consumed with not wanting to be another man who let his mom down. He worked his butt off trying to help her. His grades, appearance, and health suffered from the heavy load he was shouldering at such a young age. When I was assigned to be his tutor, I sat in on meetings where his teachers judged him as lazy and apathetic. The truth is, he worked harder than any of them; he was just ashamed to tell anyone. From their limited perspective, they saw his actions, then judged his motives. And they were dead wrong.

Matt needing support at school was the “speck” his teachers could see. When they judged him, they no longer felt responsible for helping him with that speck. They hadn’t dealt with the “planks” in them, which made them so ready to judge a thirteen-year-old boy.

When we condemn from our limited perspective, it always points to our own plank. We miss the joy of helping people in the small areas where our lives intersect. “Holy speck helping” begins with “humble plank acknowledging”.

Your focus determines your direction.

I can’t imagine anyone reading the previous two points and not wanting to apply them. We all want to follow wise leaders and to be non-judgmental, encouraging people. We all want to see the best in others and inspire those around us to greatness. I’m sure you’ve never thought: “What I really want out of life is to harshly judge everyone who makes me feel uncomfortable about anything I struggle with.”

Despite our desire to be encouraging, judging people is a trap we have to constantly battle. How do we read these stories and Jesus’ teaching about not being judgmental and really live differently?

Jesus addressed the continual nature of our struggle in the next part of his lesson on not judging. He said:

“No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thorn bushes, or grapes from briers. A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. Luke 6:43-45 (NIV).

The “fruit” in our lives comes from all the things beneath the surface, deep in our souls. In order for our lives to produce good things, like not judging people, we have to store good things in our hearts and souls. In other words, if we want to accept people the way Jesus did, we have to continually focus on who he is and how he accepts people. It is a discipline we practice because of our desire to honor what Jesus has shown us. Our focus determines our direction. When we focus on ourselves, our hurt and our shame, we remain stuck in lives full of shame-filled judging. Thankfully, when we determine to focus on Jesus and his acceptance of us, we are freed from shame filled judging and we get to grow and accept others.

Doing these things will help you build your life on a solid foundation that will not fail you when times are tough.

“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like. They are like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed and its destruction was complete.” Luke 6:46-49 (NIV).

Jesus ended this sermon with a final challenge comparing and contrasting the two responses to his message. Everyone believes being gracious, forgiving, and generous are good things but few people focus on growing in these areas.

The foolish man building his house on sand reminds me of so many teens I’ve talked to through the years. I’ve helped several young people whose parents neglected and abused them because of drug addictions. These teens were using drugs while telling me, they didn’t want to be like their parents. They believed they could just quit when they had families because they’d care too much about their kids to use drugs. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for any of them. None of them had learned any coping skills for the struggles in life. Instead of building their lives on different decisions, they escaped the hard emotions of their teen years by self-medicating with drugs. When they had families, they had no foundation for dealing with adult stresses. Sadly, they became the thing they hated most.

In life, we don’t get to suddenly have great character when we need it. Wanting to be good isn’t enough. Character is built over time through frequent choices. We will all have hard times in our lives which will shake us and reveal our true character. If we follow the principles Jesus teaches in Luke, he will prepare us for these times. He helps us see ourselves accurately, then empowers us to change, grow, and become the good people we want to be. If we continually build our lives on the principles he taught, the hard times will not destroy us, they will reveal the strength of our character.

So, whatever your shame struggles are, there is hope for you. You can quit judging yourself and others.

Trust me. It’s a journey.