The Committed One

I used to recommend that every young person read Psalm 139. I believed it could bolster their self-image.    More recently, I’ve concluded we all would benefit from what it has to say about us and for the challenge it lays before us.

Sometimes it is impossible to know clearly what was going on in the mind of a psalmist.  Fortunately, we don’t have to know to understand and benefit from the insights and example they leave us.

The writer of Psalm 139 may have been facing false accusations from his enemies, accusations that directly attacked his motives and behavior.  This prompted an appeal for God to examine his heart.

   According to the psalmist, God has "searched" him.  The words used carry the idea of being examined intimately or in depth (the word suggests the idea of being probed).  As a consequence, God truly knows the psalmist (139:1).  Listen to how the psalmist describes this in detail.

God knows the psalmist’s day-to-day routine, and even his thoughts (139:2/3).  The most sophisticated GPS has nothing on God.

 God knows the words we speak before we speak them (139:4).  Don’t scoff.  Sometimes, when a friend is about to face a particular situation we say, "I know just what he'll say about that."  Again, the idea implies an intimate knowledge of the individual.  The psalmist imagines God possessing just such knowledge of him.

Note this: Our knowing how a friend will respond in a certain situation doesn’t imply we have overruled our friend’s freewill.  It just means we know our friend far better than we know any stranger.  And, as the psalmist might insist, none of us are strangers to God.

In the context of Psalm 139, it seems as if the psalmist is so certain God will find nothing out of order that any questioning of his motives is baseless.  If that perception is true, it doesn’t flow so much from spiritual arrogance as it does from the frustration he feels at the assaults on his character.

In any case, however he might have wished to plead his case, his reflections on the God who knows him so well soon turns to wonder and praise.

Reflections on the Committed One

  As the psalmist reflects on how God has been committed to him—and by implication committed to every believer—he focuses on God’s presence and providence in his life.

The Commitment of God Seen in His Presence

    The Living Bible, in verse five, captures the picture of the omnipresent God at work in his life: " You both precede and follow me."  Even the most loving, caring parent cannot do both. 

The consequence of this is God's hand of blessing placed on the life of the psalmist. 

At this point, it might be helpful to put what the psalmist is saying in perspective.  I’ve heard these verses used to warn people that they can’t get away with any kind of misbehavior, that they can’t hide from God.  This isn’t the writer’s goal.  The psalmist does not see God as some cosmic Pinkerton ("we never sleep"), watching to see if he is going to mess up; he is there to protect and help.  Nor is God "watching from a distance;" he is nearby.

Here the singer begins a rapturous reflection on the implications of what he has just said.  He cannot fully fathom its meaning (139:6).  How God can be this close to him and, indeed, to every believer is hard to grasp.  At the same time, God can be with the grieving widow in the funeral chapel and with the young soldier on the distant battlefield.

At verse seven, the psalmist begins to reflect on some of the ways Gods presence and power is displayed in his life.

He begins by asking a series of questions intended to underscore the inescapable presence of God in his life.

In so doing, he introduces the subject of God's Spirit.  We have to wait for the further revelation of the New Testament, to get a clearer picture of the person and work of the Holy Spirit.  But, throughout the Bible—even on the first page—there are hints of the Spirit at work.  Only when we have the completed Bible are there enough hints to craft the doctrine of the Trinity, but the psalmist isn’t concerned about the doctrinal implications of what he is saying:  He wants to sing of the wonder of God’s presence.

 Nor does he actually want to flee from God.  God's presence is to be appreciated and relished.  There is no notion of Yahweh being a territorial God.

In verse eight, the psalmist imagines going to the highest heaven and then imagines himself making his “bed in Sheol.”  Sheol was the abode of the dead but the psalmist may not be inviting speculation as to the character of the world beyond death.  He is probably simply contrasting the physically highest place anyone could imagine with the physically lowest place anyone could imagine (cf. Lenski).  The key point is that he cannot be anywhere that God is not.

To further underscore this point, the psalmist imagines himself riding "the wings of the morning" and settling on the most remote part of the sea (139:9/10).  What are these wings of the morning?  Perhaps they were the winds stirred up by the rising sun or the rays of the sun breaking over the eastern horizon and rushing out to the western horizon.  To the east of the psalmist would have been a vast desert; to the west, a great sea. 

The Jews were not a seafaring people.  The sea was, to some extent, a place of mystery and danger.  Yet, even in such a remote place, God's strong right hand would be there to hold and support him.

     What does this mean to you and me?

God isn't going to abandon you…

-in the hospital room.

-on the campus.

-in the retirement home.

-on the battlefield.

-in the workplace.

-in the lonely hours when you wonder if you'll ever be loved or can love.

In verses eleven and twelve, the psalmist moves on to one other scenario:  utter darkness.  Again, he plays a kind of “what if” game.  What if he tried to hide from God in the darkness?  And, again, he couldn’t.

Darkness and light are alike to God.  You cannot hide from God, supposing the psalmist even wanted to.  More significantly, the circumstances of life--though they might surround us like darkness--cannot cloak us from God's presence. 

Psalm 23 speaks of walking though a valley dark as death, yet being sure of God's presence.  Perhaps both psalmists were imagining those times when despair threatens to block out all the light around them.  Even in those times, God is there.

The commitment of God revealed in his purposeful providence

At this point, the psalmist turns from considering God’s presence to considering his providence in his life.

Focus shifts to the psalmist's own body.    He saw God involved in all the intricate workings that made him a human being (139:13).   This leads to the declaration in verse fourteen:  “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

This is not an expression of arrogance.  It recognizes the wondrous complexity of the human being and praises the creator.  Young's translation captures an interesting note:  "(with) wonders I have been distinguished."  There is something special about the human that distinguishes us from all the other animals, not matter what similarities may be found in DNA or other components of our being.

Even before his birth God was involved in the psalmist's life, carefully overseeing the miracle going on in the womb. 

     For the psalmist, what went on in the womb was a mystery.  No x-rays or ultrasounds could follow the development of the child.  But one thing was clear, God was at work beyond what human eyes could behold.

Nothing the psalmist says in verses 14 and 15 is intended to address the issues of birth defects or congenital disorders.  There’s an appropriate place for discussing these matters in detail but this isn’t it.  Here the psalmist is content to simply praise the Divine Weaver while acknowledging his own limited understanding.

Some writers have used these verses to try to explain the problem or to explain it away.  That is almost certainly an arbitrary application of the verses.

Psalm 139 is not a theodicy, not a defense of God.  It does not address all the questions we might have.  Doubtless, the psalmist knows this is a broken world where events and experiences might cause us to question the very affirmations he is making.  Other psalmists (see Psalm 22, for example) will express feelings of being abandoned by God but, for now, this psalmist holds fast to the notion that God has been with him from the beginning.

For now, maybe we should simply say the psalmist is extolling the marvelous craftsmanship found in every human being, even in those who might not measure up to that narrow standard we call “normal.” 

God’s oversight of our lives does not end when we are born.  He looks ahead, beyond the range of our limited vision.

Your eyes foresaw my actions; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be (Psalms 139:16).

 This verse, from the New American version, brings up the notion of God's foreknowledge.  Does this imply a kind of predestination?  Is our every action already programmed into our character?  Is freewill real or an illusion?

  Some translations seem to suggest that God "scheduled" or "laid out" our days before we were born?  Not every Christian would to endorse such determinism. 

  It seems more likely, as most translations agree, that the psalmist is speaking of length of life.  God knows how long we will live.  About a week before his death, Jerry Falwell told a church group that he believed no one died until his work was done.  I disagreed with Falwell on many things, but I think he voiced a genuine Christian perspective on that issue.

 The English Standard Bible supports this notion:

    Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

    in your book were written, every one of them,

        the days that were formed for me,

        when as yet there were none of them.

Commenting on the verse, Lenski wrote:  “This touches on the deep mystery of divine foreknowledge, which our little minds can never begin to grasp.  In this case the book of God is not the book of life or the record of the deeds of men, but the book of divine foreknowledge, where, as it were, the days are known at to their number, and a blank page is provided for each.”

In a way beyond our comprehension, God knows what we will write on that page but, unlike the kindergarten teacher, God does not take our hand to form the letters for us.  God knows how we will use our freewill; God knows what the impact of our life will be.

Once again, the psalmist’s reflections have prompted him to voice a note of wonder (17/18).  The word translated "precious" can mean weighty or valuable.  These thoughts were to be treasured.  But what thoughts?  Most likely, the psalmist means God’s thoughts about him.  As the God’s Word translation puts it, “How precious are your thoughts concerning me, O God!”  The central idea seems to be that the psalmist is thrilled at the thought the thought that God is thinking about him. 

Imagine that, the God of the universe is thinking of you.  In fact, when we look at the wonders of creation, providence, and the larger picture of salvation as it is portrayed in the Scripture, we realize that God is committed to us.

Responding to the Committed One

What is the proper response to the God who is committed to us?  We should be committed to the Committed One.

Now, what would this commitment look like?

We ought to align ourselves to the will of God for the larger world. 

The psalmist understood that there were those who would thwart God’s plans, if they could.  There were those who would rob God of his glory, if they could.  There were those who would fill the world God built with violence and hatred.  How does the psalmist respond to this reality:  He declares his commitment to God by affirming that God's enemies are the psalmist's enemies (139:19-22).  While such enemies might not be able to hurt God, they may have been hurting the psalmist, wounding his spirit if not his body.  Nevertheless, the psalmist will take his stand for God.

These words remind us of how human the psalms are.  These gut-level words show how the psalmist feels.  At the same time, the words reminds us that it would be centuries before Jesus would say, “Love your enemies.”  We might not use the same language the psalmist used, but our response to God should be shaped by the same kind of resolute devotion.

We should open ourselves to God’s transforming work as he molds us to become the persons he wants us to be.

The psalm ends with almost the same thought with which it began, but here he takes the thought a step further:  it becomes a prayer.  He asks God to cleanse him of any fault that might mar his relationship to God.  VanGemeren explains what the psalmist is doing in this final prayer; he contrasts two ways, the way of the world and the way of God.  “The psalmist desires nothing less than God’s will.”

He trusts God to uncover any problem and correct it so he might walk the "road of eternity."  He is willing to be changed, changed by the One whose commitment to him is beyond his understanding.  He is willing to have God’s searchlight shined into every corner of his heart, willing to see the dark things there which he might have convinced himself never existed.  He was willing to go through that difficult self-revelation so his relationship with God might be at its healthiest.

Some say this beautiful psalm is about the wonder of being human.  That is certainly true, but beyond that it is about the wonder of the God who is committed to us.

Disappointing Saints

Galatians 6:1

We are living in days when Christians may disappoint us.

Before Cardinal Ratzinger had served his first day as the newly elected Pope Benedict XVI, there were critics who voiced fears the man knows as “the Enforcer,” “the German Shepherd,” and “Cardinal Rottweiler” would be too soft on those priests guilty of molesting children.

That concern reflected the profound feelings evoked around the world as the stories of innocent children abused by trusted churchmen made headlines worldwide.

No newspaper carried the story of my predecessor at the church I served before coming to Ohio.  Yet, his affair with a church member rocked the tiny community.   His behavior impacted the congregation for years to come;  one young couple admitted they sometimes questioned the legitimacy of their own marriage since he had performed the ceremony.

When leaders fail, there is a negative impact on the church—no one can deny that.  But leaders aren’t the only saints who sometimes disappoint us.

When a Christian fails, whether that Christian is a nationally-known leader or just a fellow-believer who shares a pew with us, we may respond in several ways.

We may respond with anger.  Certainly that’s been the result of the reports on priest’s molesting children or the stories of church leaders bilking gullible members.  It’s natural to feel that way but we have to be on guard so the anger does not lead to more destructive attitudes and behaviors.

We may become cynical.  I know a man who was approached with a proposal by a nationally known evangelist.  The evangelist asked my friend to write a book and allow it to be published under the evangelist’s name.  He then promised to help my friend publish a book of his own later on.   I can’t go into a bookstore and see books bearing the evangelist’s name without wondering who really wrote them.  I have to be careful that I don’t think the same about other prominent authors.

We may reject the church.  Sometimes those hurt by the failure of other believers may walk away from the church and any association with Christianity.  This is why I urge young people to never judge Christianity by Christians or to judge the Church by a church.

You’ve probably known someone who responded to the spectacular failure of a trusted Christian in one of these ways.

But God, whose power to transform the bleakest situation, can bring benefits to those wounded by disappointing saints.

What positive results might follow their failure?

1.  Christians who must deal with the aftermath of a disappointing saint’s failure might develop a new maturity rooted in realism.

On the eve of the great depression the chief financial of the Southern Baptist Home Mission Board disappeared along with the millions of dollars hard-working Baptists had given to spread the gospel.  Church leaders were barely able to forestall bankruptcy and, due to the impact of the Depression, it was nearly a decade before the financial crisis was overcome.

After nearly ninety years of having honest treasurers, Baptists were forced to swallow a bitter dose of reality.  Convention leaders saw they had foolishly forgotten that every man and woman is subject to temptation, that anyone might succumb to such temptation.  Consequently, never again were the convention funds put under the control of a single man or woman.  Checks and balances were introduced which were designed to make embezzlement improbable, if not impossible.  

As Paul brings his fiery letter to the Galatians to a close, he directs them on a very practical issue, how Christians were to treat those who failed in someway.  He describes what they were to do “if another Christian is overcome by some sin.”  His words don’t so much suggest that such sin is inevitable as they suggest such failure is commonplace and hardly surprising.

The intrusion of child molesters into the sanctity of the church nursery has caused churches to institute policies in which they carefully screen those who volunteer to work with our children.  Some people object to this practice, claiming we are too suspicious;   we’re not being suspicious, we’re being realists.

This new maturity results not only in a new way of viewing others but in a new way of seeing ourselves.  When Paul calls on the Galatians “to be careful not to fall into the same temptation” themselves it was an implicit reminder they could be the next to fall.

When I worked for the department store in Houston, I never minded the security people examining my attaché case or lunch box when I left for home:  I believe in original sin.  Paul says that reality ought to keep us on our toes.

2.  Christians who must deal with the aftermath of a disappointing saint’s failure might develop a more finely-tuned faith.

When we become so angry, bitter, cynical, and frustrated about the failure of a Christian leader that we feel like giving up on the church, it may be a warning that something is not quite right about our faith.

When Paul wrote the Corinthians he says a danger in the attitude some of them had developed toward favorite leaders.  The apostle saw a potential for disaster.

Here’s some of what he wrote to them.  It’s found in I Corinthians 3.

4.  When one of you says, "I am a follower of Paul," and another says, "I prefer Apollos," aren't you acting like those who are not Christians?

      5.  Who is Apollos, and who is Paul, that we should be the cause of such quarrels? Why, we're only servants. Through us God caused you to believe. Each of us did the work the Lord gave us.   6.  My job was to plant the seed in your hearts, and Apollos watered it, but it was God, not we, who made it grow.   7.  The ones who do the planting or watering aren't important, but God is important because he is the one who makes the seed grow.    8.  The one who plants and the one who waters work as a team with the same purpose. Yet they will be rewarded individually, according to their own hard work. 

      9.  We work together as partners who belong to God. You are God's field, God's building-not ours.

 10.  Because of God's special favor to me, I have laid the foundation like an expert builder. Now others are building on it. But whoever is building on this foundation must be very careful.   11.  For no one can lay any other foundation than the one we already have-Jesus Christ.

The problem was they had taken their focus off Christ and focused on a human leader of the church.  Sometimes, as it did in Corinth, that may lead to deep divisions in the church.  Other times it might lead to disappointment and disillusionment when that leader fails.

A more fine-tuned faith recognizes the accomplishment of various church leaders but keeps its attention on Christ.  Whether we’re talking about a church leader or just Christian friend, if the painful experience of seeing that saint fall helps us learn to keep our focus on Christ, than something good has come out of something bad.

3.  Christians who must deal with the aftermath of a disappointing saint’s failure may have an opportunity to observe the grace of God in action.

What Paul doesn’t say here is quite remarkable.  He doesn’t say “if a fellow-believer is overcome by sin you who are spiritual should

o   Write them off as utter failures.

o   Send them packing.

o   Give their family twenty-four hours to get out of town.

o   Heap so much shame and reproof on the fallen believer that he or she is unable to even imagine the possibility of restoration.

Yet, restoration is what Paul is talking about.  The word he uses carries the notion of a repair.  What was broken is fixed.

William Barclay helps us understand what Paul had in mind.

Paul knew the problems that arise in any Christian society. The best of men slip up. The word Paul uses (paraptoma) does not mean a deliberate sin; but a slip as might come to a man on an icy road or a dangerous path. Now, the danger of those who are really trying to live the Christian life is that they are apt to judge the sins of others hardly. There is an element of hardness in many a good man. There are many good people to whom you could not go and sob out a story of failure and defeat; they would be bleakly unsympathetic. But Paul says that, if a man does make a slip, the real Christian duty is to get him on his feet again. The word he uses for to correct is used for executing a repair and also for the work of a surgeon in removing some growth from a man's body or in setting a broken limb. The whole atmosphere of the word lays the stress not on punishment but on cure; the correction is thought of not as a penalty but as an amendment.

Paul’s instructions assume the fallen believer has gone through the phases of recognition and repentance.  Now, that believer is ready for the process of restoration.

Those believers charged with the special ministry of restoration are to approach the fallen one with gentleness and humility, demonstrated in an atmosphere of great patience.  That Christian man or woman is gentle when they speak the necessary words of correction and challenge without belittling those who hear them.  That Christian man or woman who is gentle is not prone to  remind the fallen believer, “see, I told you so” as they help them review the cause of their failure.  That Christian man or woman who is gentle has the one goal of setting the fallen one back on the path.

Being gentle makes them effective;   being humble keeps them gentle, and keeps them ever aware they are only the channels of God’s grace to the fallen brother or sister, the same grace they so often need.

That restoration may be a beautiful thing.  Sometimes, by the grace of God, that leader may return to a place of leadership.  Sometimes, in the wisdom of God, that restored leader’s place of usefulness may be different.  But, always, God’s grace reminds us failure need not be forever.

We may never forget the failure of a trusted leader or beloved friend;   but that memory will last only for this life, the memory of seeing God’s grace restore the fallen will last for eternity.

It will never be easy when a fellow Christian disappoints us.  Still, our response to their failure will determine whether or not the tragedy is compounded.

Above all…

When a follower of Christ fails, don’t give up on Christ.

If a fellow believer fails, hold on to the hope that believer might be restored.

If you fail, look to God for his grace and restoration.

Beams and Specks

Matthew 7:1-5

                 These verses are some of the best known of Jesus’ words from the Sermon on the Mount.  Unfortunately, there has been a tendency to misunderstand them, especially in recent days.  That’s a shame because that misunderstanding can cause us to miss the remarkable promise implicit in the words.

********

             Passages such as this persuade me that Jesus must have had a sense of humor.  Imagine this fellow with a beam--about the size of a log or plank--trying to maneuver enough to remove a speck--about the size of a particle of sawdust--from another person's eye.  Perhaps this is the kind of analogy you would expect from someone who had spent a few years in a carpenter’s shop.

            Of course this is not an OSHA lecture on shop safety, Jesus is talking about our relationship with others.  It’s important to hear Jesus because this is one area where we often fail, and often excuse our failure.  Now, does that sound like I’m judging?

            You see, it isn't quite accurate to say that Jesus never wants us to judge;  He wants us to practice self-judgment.

            Every psychiatrist must go through years of psychotherapy before being certified.  A psychiatrist must understand himself/herself--quirks and all--before attempting to understand others.

 Even among the people of  God self-judgment is a prerequisite to helping others with their own problems.

I

WE CAN APPROACH THE FAULTS OF OTHERS WITH PRESUMPTION BORN OUT OF SELF-DECEPTION

Before I go on it’s important we understand what Jesus is forbidding.  This is not a prohibition of reasonable discrimination.

Josh McDowell, in a message to the Southern Baptist Pastor’s Conference a few years ago, said some Christians had replaced John 3:16 with Jesus’ statement “Judge not” as the most frequently quoted verse.   This reflects a new understanding of the idea of tolerance.  Whereas tolerance once meant insisting that others had a right to hold ideas different from our own, that we would even protect that right even while we engaged in restrained debate over the issue.  Now however the new understanding of tolerance demands that we accept and affirm every idea, lifestyle, and world-view as having the same worth, the same merit.  Once we had the right to respectfully disagree and to attempt to persuade others to our perspective but now we are to welcome alternative views as having the same value as our own.  The watchword of this new tolerance is “Judge not.”

When we look at the totality of Jesus’ teaching and the message of the New Testament, its clear there is a place for making discerning judgments in the face of error and in the face of bad behavior.

            Consider how lives could have been saved if people had been more discriminating in following David Koresh.  And how much pain and sorrow could have been avoided in Cardinal Law had used his office to condemn the reprehensible behavior of some of his priests, to have judged their behavior heinous enough to make sure they could never again represent themselves as ministers of the church.

Shouldn't we be discriminating when dealing with persons of questionable emotional stability?  When assessing a person’s faithfulness to the Scripture?  When considering giving responsibility to those with little experience?

Let me clear up one more possible misunderstanding.  Jesus is not suggesting that we can somehow quantify sin, that we can measure the sins of one person against the sins of another.  He certainly isn’t warning “big sinners” against judging “little sinners.”  Instead, he’s calling us to a more realistic view of ourselves, a more honest view.  John Stott offers a helpful comment:

“We have a fatal tendency to exaggerate the faults of others and minimize the gravity of our own.  We seem to find it impossible, when comparing ourselves with others, to be strictly objective and impartial.  On the contrary, we have a rosy view of ourselves and a jaundiced view of others.”

With this in mind we can move on to consider Jesus’ words.

Judging the Judgmental Spirit.

I’m not attempting to explain away Jesus’ demand; I’m trying to place it in its proper context.    Jesus is condemning a censorious spirit.  Why was Jesus so concerned about this attitude?  He was concerned because what it did to the individual and to the church.

Eugene Peterson’s rather free-wheeling paraphrase of this verse helps us see what is in mind here, “don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults—unless, of course, you want the same treatment.  That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging.”

Some of what Jesus is talking about is a pettiness that can destroy morale.  (The word Karphos is literally " a small piece of straw, chaff, wood, etc., to denote something quite insignificant." A-G)  In American English we sometimes refer to someone being guilty of “nit-picking,” meaning that they focus on the minutia, the microscopic faults of others.  By the way, just to make your day, a “nit” is the small, almost invisible egg sack left by an insect like a louse.  “Nit-picking” refers to the process of searching through someone’s hair to find these nits.  Now, in a case of lice-infestation, such nit-picking is necessary; but as we commonly use the term, the person who nit-picks is searching for something, however small, to criticize about another.

Several years ago, in another place, two pastors spoke to me in the same week about criticisms being made against their wives.  One said that people were complaining that his wife dressed too elegantly; the other said that people were complaining that his wife was too dowdy.

You have to pity the pastor and the pastor’s family living with that kind of scrutiny. 

At the same time, Jesus is condemning an attitude that rejoices when people fall.  This is the person who whispers, "I saw it coming.  I could have told you.  How could you have missed the signs?"

Jesus condemns this nit-picking spirit because it is an attitude that stifles the courage and creativity of others.  Even in the best of churches few people are bold enough to advance a new ideas or attempt a new way to minister when they are surrounded by such critics.

As devastating as such a critical spirit can be when it’s unleashed against others Jesus suggest that it is an attitude which often reveals more about the judge than the judged.

--It may reveal a deep-seated self-righteousness that ignores the faults which are obvious to everyone; it may reveal a sense of inferiority which is characteristic of people who believe that the only way to build themselves up is to tear someone else down.

--Those who practice this type of behavior may even be driven by the incredible assumption that says, "If I point out the speck in his eye, people will ignore the beam in my eye."  Picture this, the word translated “speck” or “mote” refers to a particle the size of a bit of sawdust, “beam” refers to a timber plank used in the construction of a house.  We might call it a rafter. 

You can have a speck in your eye but having a beam in your eye is impossible.  Again, Jesus isn’t talking about real-life situations.  He’s asking us to draw comparisons.  Some people can have lives so messed up when compared to others, it’s like they’re trying to walk around with a beam in the eye.  Yet, these are the people who hope we will focus our attention on the person who has a  tiny speck in their eye.

Ultimately, it is an attitude which inevitability brings judgment upon itself.  Why will such a harsh judge be judged?  Unless you see the beam in your eye, you're not ready for grace.

A Fruitless Work

There’s something here I don’t want you to miss.  Jesus words clearly imply that there are times when that “speck” needs to be removed.  Yet Jesus shows us that a censorious spirit in the one attempting to remove the speck often makes the efforts fruitless.

This is an example of  "hypocritical" helpfulness.  Often those whose lives are most dysfunctional are the first in line to "help" someone else fix their lives.

Their help is often reduced to pointing a finger and saying, "That man has a mote in his eye."  Their help only hurts.

Due to the beam in our eye our judgment will be faulty.  It might even manifest itself in what psychologists call “projection.”  That judgmental person projects his own feelings or weaknesses onto another.  When we lash out at them we’re really lashing out at ourselves. 

During the televangelism scandals a few years ago one prominent evangelist was discovered to be guilty of the very sin he had so long blasted in his sermons, sermons which seldom attempted to maintain the Biblical ideal of hating the sin while loving the sinner.

But while we can multiply examples of a judgmental spirit, the important thing to remember is that Jesus points us to another way.

II

WE CAN APPROACH THE FAULTS OF OTHERS WITH PATIENCE BORN OUT OF SELF-DISCOVERY

Jesus doesn’t leave the person there with the beam in his or her eye.  He suggests the possibility of recovery and further usefulness.  When you finally have the courage to look into the mirror and say "Hey, I've got a beam in my eye", you're on the road to healing; and you may be on the road to becoming a healer.

We see this in twelve step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous that are based on the theory that those who have grappled with a problem are best suited to helping others grapple with theirs.

Seeing that beam can be a shock but seeing it can also produce change.

1.  Changes in our attitude toward ourselves.

When Jesus says, “First remove the beam from your own eye,” he’s saying we may no longer pretend, no longer be oblivious to the fault that needs correction.  That’s an important place to be.

But getting to that place can be tough.  Have you ever waked up, looked in the mirror, and saw evidence of something like an eye-infection?  Maybe instead of the healthy white you were used to seeing you saw a livid red.  That can be unnerving. But imagine waking up and seeing a beam in your eye.

It’s a scary moment but also a sacred moment.  It’s scary because we discover we’re not what we thought we were.  It’s a sacred moment because it invites us to turn to God for his transforming grace.

When I see my need of grace, I’m less likely to condemn another who needs that grace.

Both the beam and the speck--whatever they may represent--need to be removed.  And, often, when we have something in an eye, we can’t help ourselves because we can’t see properly.  We need help.

Several years ago our son got a tiny piece of metal in his eye.  We were afraid to try to dislodge it so we took him to our optometrist.  She used a powerful magnet to get it out safely.

 Jesus may very well have been trying to contrast the religion of the Pharisees with that of the Kingdom of God.  So some believe the “beam” in this case is self-righteousness, that attitude which makes us feel we are better than others.  If that’s so, we need to remember something.  Just as we can’t make ourselves humble because in doing so we will become proud, we can’t rid ourselves of self-righteousness without running the risk of believing we have done something which makes us better than others.  We run the risk of praying, “ thank you God that I am more humble than this Pharisee.” 

In any case, the underlying message of the Sermon on the Mount is our need to trust God’s grace.  Beams can only be removed through God’s grace.  The good news is God is eager to help us be rid of both the beam and the mote.  And that grace takes a more remarkable turn.

God in his grace has helped some people deal with beams and, thus, made them capable of dealing with specks.

Isn't that the kind of person who is ready to help others?

2.  Seeing that beam and experiencing a divine “beamectomy” changes  our attitude toward others.

Our attitude suddenly begins to produce more compassion and less condemnation.

We begin to see that they are very much like us; that we are very much like them.  And that will inevitably change their attitude toward us.  Where once another may have thought us remote, unfamiliar with failure or unwilling to admit failure, they now see us as traveling on the same road.

3.  Following that “beamectomy” we can expect changes in our approach to others.

Where we once approached the faults of others with harshness, we now approach them with tenderness.  The Pharisee-like attitude that demands we criticize others to hide our own weakness is gone.

Our judgment is tempered with understanding.

The dinner party was going on downstairs and little Billy was having a hard time getting to sleep.  More than once he had called his mother up to his room because of a monster in the closet or under the bed.  Each time she told him to stop being silly and go to sleep.  Finally he came down the stairs and said, “Mommy, there’s a lion in the front yard.”  Everyone laughed.

Wanting to impress her guests, the mother walked Billy to the window and said, “That’s just a big old tom cat, now you go back upstairs and pray ‘til God tells you he forgives you for lying.”

A few minutes later, Billy came back downstairs.  His mother saw him and asked, “Billy did you pray?”

“Yes,” Billy said, “I prayed.”

“Well,” his mother asked as the guests were snickering behind her, “what did God say?” 

Billy answered, “God said, ‘That’s okay, Billy, when I first saw it, I thought it was a lion too!’"

That mother and those guests had forgotten what it meant to be small and frightened.  When you’ve had that beam or that speck removed, you understand what someone who needs that operation is going through.

In those circumstances we come, not as a judge, but as a physician; we come to heal, not to condemn. 

Our attitudes and actions are born out of a new self-understanding.

Until that self-understanding comes we're really not ready to help others.  When it comes we can be instruments to bring healing and wholeness.

CONCLUSION

I said it at the beginning but it bears repeating: Even among the people of God self-judgment is a prerequisite to helping others with their problems.

Jesus wants us to start looking at ourselves in the mirror so we'll stop looking at others with a magnifying glass.

 The judging spirit is learned, it can be unlearned.

The Spirit can lead us to clarity, cleansing, and compassion.

Finally, keep in mind that there is a beautiful twofold lesson in this passage. 

If you discover a “beam” in your own eye, it not the end.  Not only can it be removed but you can become a more useful member of the Kingdom as you engage in the compassionate ministry of helping others.