A few weeks ago my husband, Jay, was invited to judge a chili and beer competition in Scottsville.
Free food and beer… his immediate answer was YES.
Free food and beer… his immediate answer was YES.
We decided to make a day of it and thanks to bad weather and cancelled soccer practices the kids and I headed down to Hatton Ferry a little after Jay. We were thrown back into the Dark Ages since there was no cell service and we could only use cash. Our kids immediately learned an important lesson: figure out your family call and respond to it (also: it never hurts to carry a twenty in your wallet). Our family has a whistle that we use in large groups to find each other. We are basically pack animals just trying to make it in this world. As we stood lost at the front gate we heard a familiar whistle from the hillside and found Jay, sequestered, with the other judges. Since Jay is not a professional chili judge he had no clue that judging would mean he would not be able to enter the festival and walk around because his judgement may be skewed by booths and interactions and the such.
As tempting as it was to keep a 3 and 5 year old sitting still on a patio we choose to enter the world of booths and people and skewed judgement. We walked from booth to booth meeting people, trying chili, getting lots of fun swag (pink firefighter hats for the win!), and jumping in puddles. I picked my favorite chili immediately. It tasted good but I LOVED the women making it and the ways they loved on my kids even more.
My judgement was totally skewed.
After his high profile judging gig was done Jay and I reunited for a loop around the booths and some James River rock skipping. We talked about the chili, which we liked most, and which he thought had won. Then we talked about the fact that two of the judges had wives in the competition but they had no idea which chili they had made in an attempt to stay impartial.
We love an impartial judge. We need an impartial judge. It’s crucial in many arenas: traffic court, the Olympics, and school science fairs just to name a few. Yet, when it comes to our ultimate judgement, I am grateful for a very partial God.
We are seeped in a world of condemnation where the rest of the world loves to act as authority on the choices in our lives.
If my child did drugs I would kick them out of the house.
If my spouse cheated on me there would be no second chances.
I will NEVER be caught dead choosing soccer over church.
There is no way yoga pants can be worn as real pants.
My family would never eat those kinds of processed sugars.
I can’t imagine my child going to private school, we are supporters of public education.
We are surrounded by people who think they know but really have no idea. We are also surrounded by a God who knows. She knows the intricacies of our lives, our hearts, our decisions. She knows the pain and the hope and the depth of love that resides in each of us. Our God does not sit on a patio sequestered making judgments about our lives to be handed down over a loudspeaker. Our God stands in the mud with us, sees the struggle, knows our hearts and intentions. Our God sees our capacity for change and redemption. In Matthew’s Gospel he tells us to, “go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ for I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13). Our God IS mercy.
As agents of Christ’s love in the world we are called to mercy. Mercy is much harder, more intimate, and heart-wrenching than sacrifice.
Mercy is personal.
Mercy is messy.
It’s easier for us to sacrifice each other.
I would never…
I can’t believe they…
How could you…
When we are being Christ in this world we are being radical forgivers. We are being fearlessly hopeful. We are partial to the stories, the struggles, the belovedness of each and every person we encounter. We turn from sacrifice to mercy. From judgement to understanding. From separation to unity. When there is space and understanding for the complexity of our lives, our decisions, and our mistakes, there also becomes space for more love, abundance, and connection.
Praying this week we are each brave enough to choose mercy.
Emily, you are so wise!
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