What do I know?

I don’t consider myself to be judgmental.

I’ve always thought of myself to be nice and gray, always two sides to every story, err on the side of compassion, benefit of the doubt, etc.

Atticus Finch: “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” Perfect. Brilliant.

But a few months ago, taking CJ to school, I got a brutal reminder that I’m no Atticus Finch. Not by a long shot.

I take Caroline to school about the same time every day. And every day we drive past this woman, a little older than I am, doing this kinda half walk half jog down the sidewalk. It’s not both as much as it is neither.

We always laughed, tried to figure out what to call it, wonder why she didn’t just WALK or just RUN. I usually wrapped it up with, “Well, I can’t really say anything. She’s doing more than I am.”

But still, the giggles kept coming back.

Until the day we were running a little ahead of schedule (which is about as regular as Haley’s Comet). What I saw stung me to my core.

There was our “running” lady, I guess about five minutes ahead of when we usually saw her on Mills by Boone. She was taking the hill on Kaley. And she was KILLING IT.

Long stride, full sprint. Not jogging. RUNNING. (Big difference.)

“Oh Caroline… look…” I pointed to her as we reached the stoplight.

“Wow,” she said, surprised. “She’s running HARD.”

“I know,” I whispered as God abruptly threw noonday sun on the dark recesses of my heart that were usually hidden in shadows.

We rounded the corner about the same time she did and she slowed to the familiar shuffle we were used to seeing.

It was her cool down. After going all out for who knows how long, we had only ever seen her cool down and assumed that was all she was doing.

I knew better than that. Or at least, I THOUGHT I did. Not so much, it turns out.

And even if that were all she was doing, heckfire, it was more than I was as I scooted around in my cushy, air-conditioned swagger wagon.

Caroline hopped out and went about her day. I pulled out of carline and saw my new secret friend in a nice slow walk that she had worked hard for.

I threw off the threatening self-condemnation to make room for the Spirit conviction my stinging heart was starving for.

What the crap did I know?

In Proverbs 8:14, the writer speaks on God’s behalf:

Counsel and sound judgment are Mine;
I have understanding and power.

I would like to submit that counsel and sound judgment are ONLY His because He is the ONLY One with full understanding and unlimited power.

I have neither of those. So how could sound judgment be mine? Nope. Not real.

You guys, we NEVER have the full picture. We make assumptions and write entire life stories about people based on a snapshot, a moment. Maybe even several moments. But depending on what moments see, well, that determines the direction of the narrative.

I have every bit as many failures as I do victories. Depending on which half of my life people were more exposed to, they could absolutely label me as a failure, a hypocrite. And they wouldn’t be wrong. But for heaven’s sake, that’s not ALL I am.

For a long time, all ever saw of my running buddy was that slow, shuffle of sorts. I had no idea how hard she had worked for that moment of rest.

If I’m at a restaurant and see some dude camped out at the bar, staring at the TV downing drink after drink, I could easily think he was an alcoholic loser who was drinking himself into a downward spiral?

And even if any part of that were true, that’s not ALL he is.

He may be a wonderful man who works hard to provide for his family. He may be watching his wife, parent or sibling dying a slow painful death and he just needed to make the pain stop for a few hours.

He may be on his way to rehab and stopped at a bar to have one last round of drinks before saying goodbye to his addiction.

He may have just gotten terrible news: A diagnosis, a job loss, divorce papers. And he just needed to take a minute to grieve before moving forward toward the next steps.

Maybe his home is so lonely or so unhappy, the friendliest voices he hears all day are the sportscaster and the bartender.

Maybe he’s an amazing doctor, a fearless fireman/police officer/paramedic who stands between the us and disaster every single day and just needs to forget the faces of all those he hasn’t been able to save, just for a moment, so he can keep going the next day.

I don’t have understanding or power. So what in the world could I know?

I saw a girl in the park yesterday who was painfully thin, brushing her hair and fixing her makeup. My initial thought was that she was too focused on her outward appearance. (Isn’t that the saddest, most pot-calling-the-kettle-black thing you have ever heard? Ugh.)

Maybe she’s anorexic and what she sees in the mirror has always been fat and ugly, no matter how thin and beautiful she was.

Maybe any love she has ever experienced has been conditional and she’s trying to earn the affection that her heart has always longed for.

Maybe she’s a single mom, going without and working hard so her kids can eat.

Heck, maybe she is a victim of sex trafficking, abused by a pimp, strung out on drugs so he can control her and she’s just trying to get through the day.

Or maybe instead of trying to figure out her story, as if she owes me some explanation, I could just respond in my heart with love and compassion and pray for her, knowing that God knows her story and He’s the only One who can judge.

If I were just judged on my weakest moments, I could be described as:

A lazy wife.
A distracted mom.
A crazy ex-wife.
A wicked stepmother.
A couch potato.
A slob.
A neglectful sister/daughter/friend.

I mean, I could go on forever. And to be sure I have been and undoubtedly will be all those things.

But all of that is padded with context, backstory and bigger picture.

Now when I see the running lady, I am inspired, not judging. Because in God’s goodness, He showed me a little bit more of her story that day. He certainly owes me no explanation for His commands. But that day, He let me see for myself how even the grayest of us still make assumptions about a person’s whole life in a moment.

And for most people, I will never know their backstory. But the whole point of benefit of the doubt is the DOUBT. There is no way to make a sound judgment without the whole picture. Even WITH the whole picture, I still have to try to see clearly through the lenses of my biases, my limited frame of reference and my own teeny-tiny life experience.

I am reminded afresh that it is not my place to judge. Not in my job description. Know what is: Love God. Love others.

That’s it.

I should pursue understanding NOT so I can make a sound judgment, but so I can LOVE MORE and LOVE BETTER.

Because Jesus, the only perfect and all-knowing Man who ever lived, the only one who could truly reach out in sound judgment, did not. He loved FIRST. And any judgment He made came later, if at all. And only because it was perfectly sound.

Jesus knew that we could never have all the answers, so He decided to put on skin and walk around in it. And He kept it simple for us:

“Just love. I’ll take care of the rest.”