Am I a judge?

While I was waiting to meet my dear friend Maria at Coffee Cultures which is THE main cafe, of the town. I took the opportunity to “case the joint“, as it were. Sitting in public spaces, mainly cafes, can provide no end of opportunities to evaluate and judge people. I like to think that I’m really good at this. That is, until I realize I’m an awful person.

Some conversations I happen to overhear. Other times the conversations boom from their sources, invading the ears of everyone within twenty feet. While listening to conversations, I often catch myself classifying people into types. There are the snooty dressed to a "T" types, the retired seniors, the younger more hip generation and then there is me, the one who thinks she knows their story.

The moment I sort people into groups, I begin to either dismiss them or compare them. And here’s the crazy thing: I don’t even know these people, but I’m already sorting them in my head.

All of this is based on looking at how people are dressed and hearing snippets of conversations. Once I create these divides, it’s harder to be kind to people when I’ve pegged them as too snooty, too old, too frumpy, too lazy, too quirky, too .. ... . you get the idea.

We {or maybe I should only talk for myself} are too quick to judge. I find that once I know their story, I am alot more empathetic to those around me. We probably all have this tendency to pre-sort people into groups and types before actually hearing their stories. Unfortunately, It cuts us off from opportunities to love people for who they are, right where they are.

We need to learn to think twice before we make a quick remark to someone. We never know the whole story. And one shouldn't presume. So when I catch myself thinking that someone is a “type”, I need to repent. I need to ask God for new eyes and grace to share.

Don’t jump to conclusions.

Just ask.

And love.

Blessings