The day I discovered I was blind.
Growing up surrounded by Christians, Bible verses, and legalism, I was often secretly offended by Matthew 7:3-5. In the first section of his seventh chapter, Matthew records Jesus teaching about judging others rightly and warning against judging wrongly. In verses 3-5 He rebukes: “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye” (ESV, emphasis added). Why, Jesus, does the log have to be in my eye? Why does the other person get the teeny tiny speck, and I get stuck with a gargantuan log? I don’t appreciate the insinuation that, not only is my sin worse than their sin, but that I am also a hypocrite for seeing it.
I was a good kid, a rule follower. I knew that I sinned, but my ratio of good deeds to sinning was pretty high in my favor. Into my teen years, the pendulum of my pride began to swing back and forth between a self-righteous saint who didn’t need grace, and a self-hating wallower who wished she could earn God’s grace. The common denominator in all of this - whichever way my heart inclined, whichever end the pendulum was suspended in - was that I did not see my sin the way God does.
My sin was more than just a reason I couldn’t look myself in the mirror. Though I had offended others and myself with my sin, I had infinitely more so offended God and spit upon the crucified Savior. David knew this well when he prayed to the Lord after the prophet Nathan confronted him about his affair with Bathsheba: “Against you, you only have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment” (Psalm 51:4). Ironically (if you will forgive my use of the word), God is infinitely more forgiving than the people I sinned against and the one I most desperately sought forgiveness from: myself.
As I have grown in maturity as a believer, there is a greater temptation to be self-righteous. Over the past several weeks I have been meditating on this passage, and then Pastor Morgan preached a timely sermon on Matthew 7. I have been enlightened, with some horror, to how I have poked and scratched a loved one’s eye to remove a speck, all the while being blind to quite a sizable log in mine. And yet, even in this realization, there is a temptation to pride myself on being self-aware. To quote Paul, “What a wretched [wo]man I am!” I have accepted eagerly justifications for my sin, while throwing out another’s as “excuses”. There is no better defense lawyer, no better advocate for our sin than our own sin-filled heart. There is no need to change when our sin is manageable, victimless, or able to be blamed on someone else. We can argue until we are blue in the face as to why it is acceptable, or, at the very least, an understandable response. And when we are both judge and jury in our own courtroom, the acquittal comes back unanimous.
A right view of the sins of others starts with a right view of our own. A right view of our sin starts with a right view of God. God is holy and perfectly just, and sin is His exact antonym. Sin not only offends His heart but His very nature, the essence of Himself. He created us to worship and enjoy Him, and we became His sworn enemies. Even now as His adopted children whom He rescued from the pit, our worship and enjoyment of our heavenly Father is tainted by sin. When we see our sin the way God does, we see that we not only have a log in our eye, but jagged splinters covering our body’s entire surface area. So, if you feel overwhelmed by the weight of your sin, good. If you feel distraught and despaired by how much you sin, good. If you are shocked by the depths of wickedness that your heart is steeped in, good. But don’t stop there. Let it drive you to your knees at the foot of the cross. Let the increased awareness of both your depravity and God’s holiness lead to a greater thankfulness for and delight in God’s grace to you. Everlasting joy is rooted in the truth that “where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more”.
Jesus doesn’t command us NOT to point out the speck in our brother’s (or sister’s) eye. Why? Because sometimes, in my pride and sin, I am blind to both the log and the speck. We grow complacent and comfortable and are unable to see or feel what is so blatant to those on the outside. We need each other to say difficult and uncomfortable things to us in a spirit of humility because they love us. And that’s the difference. Gentle rebuking that leads to repentance and restoration, not harsh words that lead to shame and resentment. Even gentle rebuking can hurt, but it’s a pain that hurts like surgery. And it’s for our good and for our flourishing.