I was wrong.
I don’t like admitting that, because I don’t like being wrong. Maybe because I seldom am; in fact, I hold to the famous saying, “I thought I was wrong once, but I was mistaken.” (Sort of like boasting about being humble.) But, every once in a while, something happens that proves that I can be wrong. Even very wrong.
So it was recently on a visit to a local grocery store, that I did something that was totally wrong. This is what happened: After checking out with our groceries, Karen and I returned to our car, which was parked properly in a handicapped space. I had to wait a minute for a woman in a motorized wheelchair to use the adjacent ramp – she had come from further away in the parking lot, so I felt bad that she had to travel further than I had, since all the handicapped spaces were used. After she passed I walked down the ramp, then noticed the person using the space next to mine. He was young, robust, and seemed not to be disabled at all.
Having seen people abusing the parking privilege before, I immediately assumed he wasn’t disabled. Even though his car had a placard, I assumed he was using someone else’s. Rushing to such a judgment was bad enough, but then I compounded it by asking him as he walked past, “Handicapped?” In my righteous judgment, I guess I expected him to confess and apologize for taking a handicapped space when he shouldn’t have. Instead, he lit into me with a barrage of angry accusations.
He said I had no business questioning him about that. He said it was none of my business and that I had no right to judge him. He said he didn’t owe me any explanation of his medical condition, that just because he didn’t have gray hair or was as old as I was, didn’t mean he wasn’t disabled. He showed me his placard, and then, his anger building, he took off his shoe and sock to show me the ulcer on the side of his foot, explaining that he had been fighting it for several years. I was instantly shamed for what I had done, and tried to apologize, admitting that I was wrong in judging him.
He was still yelling at me as I sheepishly got into my car, and as I pulled away, I could tell by his parting one-finger gesture that I was not quite forgiven.
The whole incident rattled me. Most of my interpersonal interactions, even with strangers, are pleasant; certainly, I don’t like causing a rift with anyone, or causing them to get angry because of me. But what really bothered me was that the man was absolutely right. I had violated one of my core beliefs, one of my core Christian beliefs, that it is wrong to judge someone. I was a Pharisee who had looked down on someone for doing what I thought was wrong. I was a “disability nazi,” who appointed myself to enforce the rules, while violating one of Christ’s own commands.
As I pondered and grieved what I had done, I came to several conclusions.
First, I had violated what Scripture clearly teaches. Starting with the Old Testament, I had broken the Eighth Commandment: “Do not bear false witness against your neighbor” (Exodus 20:16 and Deuteronomy 5:20). As Luther explained this commandment, “We should fear and love God that we may not deceitfully belie, betray, slander, or defame our neighbor, but defend him, think and speak well of him, and put the best construction on everything.” Do you think I missed that one?
Jesus also forbade what I did, when he said in Matthew 7:1-5 “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. 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.” Do you think I maybe had a log in my own eye?
There is a telling situation in the book of 1 Samuel, where the prophet Samuel is sent to anoint a new king to replace Saul. Samuel is impressed by the appearance of one of David’s brothers, Eliab, but the Lord tells him that Eliab is not the one God has chosen. The Lord tells Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (6:7) Did I know this passage? Yes. Have I ever preached on it? Yes. Did I follow what it says? No.
Once when Jesus was teaching in the Temple, people rushed to judge him for healing on the Sabbath. He told them, “Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment” (John 7:24). I had judged the man by his outward appearance, and out of my own inward ignorance. My judgment was not righteous. I had sinned.
Second, I was a hypocrite. I acted contrary to what I believe and to what I have preached. I did not practice what I preached, but instead, I had pulled a, “Do what I say and not what I do.” I have taught that we cannot see what’s going on inside a person, or know what they’re going through, so we cannot judge them. Judgment is left to God who alone knows each person’s heart and mind. I had put myself in God’s place by rendering judgment.
Third, I was ignorant. I didn’t know the man’s situation, nor was it my place to know it and decide whether he met my standards of disability. Other times when I saw apparently fully-capable people using handicapped parking spaces, I had cut off any inklings of judgment in my mind by reminding myself that not all disabilities are visible. As the saying goes, everyone is handicapped in some way; some ways show more than others. The man could have had heart problems, breathing problems, or even had some terminal illness and was out shopping for the last time. Or, he could have been loading groceries in the car for an elderly parent who was still on his or her way to the car. Or being a Good Samaritan, helping a disabled stranger with the groceries. I had no idea, yet I mentally condemned him.
Fourth, I lacked compassion. Instead of praying for someone who needed a handicapped parking permit, I ignored the possibility he actually needed the permit. But even beyond that, the more I thought about the level of anger he vented at me, the more I realized that this was probably not the first time he had been questioned about his status. He probably has been challenged before, and maybe responded every time with patience and gentleness. But then I came along, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Now, as I remember the event, I pray for his peace – and healing. I know first-hand that foot ulcers are no small thing, and that their persistence and slow healing does try one’s patience.
Fifth, what I did was extremely dangerous. Especially these days. Karen was afraid during the incident, that the guy could attack or even shoot me if he were armed; road rage is a real thing, even when the two cars are parked. Even if the guy had wrongly parked, it wasn’t worth the risk to any of us.
Finally, I’m glad for the man’s angry response. Not that I made him angry, and not that it felt good. It didn’t. But his level of anger was like a slap in the face that I needed to repent of my judgmental tendencies. If he had just said, “Yes, I am handicapped,” and gone his way silently, I would not have been forced to confront my sin and correct my thinking. I would have probably thought, “Yeah, sure you are” and still harbored doubts and felt self-righteous. As it was, I think God used him to correct wrong attitudes in me; my particular handicap was sin, and God knew my sin needed to be repented of and healed.
Yes, I was wrong, and for that I am truly sorry.
Now may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.
Read: Exodus 20:1-17; 1 Samuel 16:1-13; John 7:14-24