The Bible tells us to “Judge not, that [we] be not judged,” so why does the world consider Christians so judgmental? I think in our zeal to be Holy like He is Holy; we often use God’s criticism of religious insiders to divinize our desire to judge secular outsiders. We fail to see that God’s sternest words were reserved for the priests and not the pagans. Jesus was also kinder to outsiders than He was to the religious elite. He didn’t condemn the Samaritan woman, even though she was a sinner, yet He called the Pharisees children of hell. The reason God saved His harshest words for the Chosen People was because they represented the unbroken conduit of salvation through which God’s Living Water surged. He knew that if the Cornerstone pipeline was damaged anywhere along the way, the precious flow wouldn’t make its way into the parched pagan wilderness. God diligently preserved its integrity by maintaining high construction standards and practicing tough love whenever it sprung a hypocritical leak.

God recognizes the world is broken, so He doesn’t need a bunch of yes men telling Him what He already knows. He does, however, need a committed cadre of relief workers willing to be a part of His plan to fix it. We are called to let our friends and neighbors know where the borders between the City of God and the City of man are drawn, but instead of erecting walls of judgment, we need to make our way into the badlands and hand out citizenship papers. 

Jesus warned us that we would experience a world of turbulence on the cultural high seas, but told us not to worry because He had tamed the tempest. Despite the ominous weather reports, He calls us to set sail for the New Jerusalem and keep an eye out for those helplessly clinging to the remains of the broken worldview ships that have been dashed upon the rocks of reality. He, however, cautions us that when we pull out survivors, we must resist the temptation to criticize their speck-tacular lack of nautical skills and instead attend to the navigational difficulties created by our own personal log jams. The only wood that is allowed to confound our vision is the mast upon which our Savior hangs, and as we rage against the shrill cacophony of the societal storm, we need to listen intently for that still small voice whispering from the spar, “forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

We can sit on the shore and complain about the size of the cultural swells or we can batten down the hatches and make sure the SS Church is salvation seaworthy. While we may tremble at the thought of entering the perfect storm, Jesus assures us it is a lovely day for fishing.