Raise your hand if you have had a complete stranger scold your child in public.
(I raise my hand.)
Raise your hand if you have had a complete stranger scold your child, then you, in public.
(I raise my hand.)
My family went to see our friend Beth play in a concert last Friday. Though it was a later night than usual for the kids, we knew they would enjoy going to a theater and hearing live music played by a symphonic band.
All went well for the first two songs. Then the toddler started getting comfortable, saying 'hi' to everyone and playing peek-a-boo with the people in front of us. Most people didn't mind when they saw the adorable dimpled girl smiling at them, but one lady gave us a nasty look.
It was time to go for a 'walk'. My husband grabbed our youngest and took her into the lobby. I thought everything was fine, until intermission, when the lady who had given us a nasty look turned and told my daughters not to kick the chairs. I happened to hear her from where I sat (five seats away) and thought it would be okay, because I do believe that discipline should not only come from parents. But then the woman said it again (and not in a kind, gentle way), and before I could do anything, she turned to me and scolded me. I was caught off guard! And I was probably blushing like a beet!
My husband returned, and I told him we were leaving. We missed the rest of the concert, and my evening was ruined. All the way home, my mind could not rest. My girls weren't sitting behind this lady, and they weren't kicking the seats, at least not intentionally. I was mad at her rudeness and the injustice of the situation and wanted to say mean-spirited things to her, like, "I'm sorry if my daughters were kicking your seat, but at least at their age, they know how to talk to people more kindly."
But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered Jesus's words, "Love your neighbor as yourself." In fact, Jesus takes it even further, saying that we should love our enemies.
Was this woman really my enemy? Yes, in my heart, I felt that she was. I felt attacked. I didn't like the way she judged my family and me. And I wanted to judge her and label her as a crotchety old lady who did not understand children. I wanted to do whatever it took to paint her in a bad light and make me feel better.
But Jesus also said, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judge, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. 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, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." (Matthew 7:1-5)
When I put my girls to bed that night, my mind was still reeling. I asked my oldest daughter if the unjust situation had made her feel bad. She shrugged. Then I gave her a cliche talk about 'grumpy people' and 'just walking away'. But this is what I should have said:
Was this woman really my enemy? Yes, in my heart, I felt that she was. I felt attacked. I didn't like the way she judged my family and me. And I wanted to judge her and label her as a crotchety old lady who did not understand children. I wanted to do whatever it took to paint her in a bad light and make me feel better.
But Jesus also said, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judge, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. 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, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." (Matthew 7:1-5)
When I put my girls to bed that night, my mind was still reeling. I asked my oldest daughter if the unjust situation had made her feel bad. She shrugged. Then I gave her a cliche talk about 'grumpy people' and 'just walking away'. But this is what I should have said:
That woman, even though we don't know her, is our neighbor. We don't know why she didn't like us... maybe she didn't want any noise at the concert, maybe she had a really bad day, but whatever it was, she is still our neighbor. And Jesus told us to treat her the way we would like to be treated, and He told us to love people even when they are not kind to us. No matter what, we need to treat her with kindness, understanding and forgiveness.
Which is much harder than saying I should have stood up for my children, or I should have explained the situation, or told the women to scold either the children or me, but not both. Because any of those actions could easily be justified with anger or pride, but they could not have easily been done in love.
Sometimes I wish I was more witty and out-spoken, sometimes I wish I was more bold, but always, always, I wish I was more loving. So here I am, taking the plank out of my eye. And though there will still be times when my family gets nasty looks or rude comments from people, I will try to love and forgive as Jesus did.
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