In My Opinion
By L.N.P.

Judge Not

The other day I received a thoughtful e-mail from a close friend who wondered when she would be able to curb her tendency to be judgmental. I replied that I hoped her question was rhetorical, because try as I might, I haven’t been able to curb that tendency in myself. Still, it gave me pause. How I wish I could have told her that I lived as Jesus did, judging no one, accepting with an open heart the vulnerable, the ignorant, the obese, the ladies with big hair and bad make-up, the manglers of the English language, the opinionated and the narrow-minded. But I couldn’t do that.

I fall short on one of the major requirements of being a good person, of really walking the walk. However much I believe I’m doing well in some of the other danger zones, I have a whole lot of improving to do in the judgmental zone. On the other hand, I have made progress. I’ve made progress because I’ve been forced to by circumstances. I’m sure that God, with His incredible sense of humor, has put just the right people in my life to compel me to acknowledge, and therefore eventually overcome this trait.  He’s doing His usual good job.

Consider this. We pack up and move from Los Angeles to what can only be considered a small town: College Station, Texas. We love the small “town-ness” of it; everyone is friendly, the traffic is negligible, there are tons of good places to eat and shop; we see the same TV shows and can go to the same movies as we did in California; our lives are just about the same, on a daily basis, as they were back in L.A. We join a church that preaches the same message about Jesus that our former church did and we embrace that message. The congregation welcomes us beyond anything we might have imagined. Every once in awhile, however, my husband and I would gaze out at the guys gathered around the barbecue pit and jokingly ask each other, “How did we GET here?” Or, we’d be sitting in a small Bible class and look around at the participants, and exchange a knowing eye roll. We both knew what we meant; we’re surrounded by hicks!

We were judging the people by how they appeared. In some cases, it was their clothing, in others, their weight or their hair or their drawl or whatever seemed not to measure up to some internal standard we had. That’s when the funny stuff started to happen. Like with the young couple we introduced ourselves to at a church dinner because they were new and seemed shy. We went over (and I’m sure felt very righteous about it) to help make these two (in our judgmental minds, obvious hicks) feel welcome. We began to talk and I soon learned that the woman, a mother of two, was going back to school at Texas A&M. Based solely on my superficial assessment of her appearance,  I immediately assumed that she had dropped out of college and was finally going to get her degree. Good for her, I thought. With only the slightest hint of condescension I began to encourage her, telling her I’d done the same thing when my children were old enough, and that I really admired her. I knew how difficult it was.

Actually, I didn’t.  This particular “hick” was on a prestigious fellowship, working on her PhD in scientific policy. She also teaches high school chemistry all day, and travels to make scholarly presentations to large seminars all over the country several times a month. There went my preconceptions. But not really, because even as we were talking, and even as I was finding our ensuing conversation totally stimulating, I was wondering what her husband, who reminded me of a grown-up Opie, did for a living. Probably stayed home with the kids, I guessed. But no, as the conversation continued we learned that he was too a science teacher, and completing his Masters.

Sitting in our Wednesday night class, a middle-aged woman mentioned that she was going out of town for a couple of weeks. Now, this woman I KNEW was a farmer; she had told me that she and her husband had lost the family farm in the Midwest and made the move to College Station. Going to visit the grandkids, I figured. So imagine my surprise when this completely unprepossessing “farm girl” said she was going to Guam. Guam? Turned out she was going to train first responders about WMD — yes, those WMD: chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons. Stop judging people by appearances played inside my head. It wasn’t the voice of God, but it certainly was His message.

So, I’ve now admitted that if someone appears one way but turns out to be extremely intelligent or well educated I stop judging them. Great. That just proves I happen to put a premium on intelligence. What if the person makes what I consider to be a dumb statement, blunders through basic grammar, or displays a lack of knowledge on subjects I consider vital? Throughout my life, that’s been my real stumbling block. I have never suffered fools well, and too often my face has revealed my judgment.  That’s where I really need the open heart of Jesus.

Again, it’s only been through experience that I’ve been able to put a large dent in that personal flaw. I couldn’t begin to list the people I’ve met who’ve done one or all of the above, but who have also turned out to be the kindest, most giving, most compassionate people, often wise in ways I’ll never be.  Each time I get past my tendency to be judgmental and discover a quality to embrace in someone, I thank God for that moment. I know in my heart it’s a moment, and a person, I would otherwise have missed the opportunity to learn from and to grow.

I admit it; I’m still a work in progress. I haven’t even come close to where I ought to be. When I step back and look at it objectively, what right have I to be judgmental about anyone? None, of course.  Judge not, lest ye be judged. At this point, I am thankful for every victory and embarrassed by every lapse; there are still far too many of them. But I’m working on it.

Send me your opinions at LParis@netlistings.com