Judge Not

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged.
Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.
Forgive, and you will be forgiven." --Luke 6:37

Last Thursday, I drove my thirteen year old son, Mitch, to guitar lessons. As I pulled into the south lot of the church campus, I noticed a white sports car. It was parked next to the newspaper/recycling dumpster. My attention was drawn to the driver's side door which was wide open. There was nobody inside the car and there didn't appear to be anyone around.

Just before I pulled alongside the car, my eyes dropped beneath the opened door and observed a pair of shoes in a straddle position, pants scrunched around the ankles. My first thought was that someone was getting sick on the other side of the door. As I turned left (away from the car) to park, I glanced at the individual.

Several things happened at once:
I realized the person, in question, was urinating onto the asphalt.
I assumed it was a child.
I told my son not to look.

By this time, I had pulled into a parking spot, no more than 36 feet away. From my side view mirror, I observed the posterior of the individual who was still "going." It did not belong to a child. It belonged to an adult. And the adult was most definitely a female.

To her left was the recycling dumpster and the church entrance. To her right was the parking lot. To her backside was a very busy street. The only part of this woman discreetly covered was her face which was shielded by the door of the car.

I was shocked. I was repulsed. I was indignant. But I was also amused in an embarrassed sort of way.

Mitch and I remained in the vehicle while the woman finished her business. As we waited, I said,

"It could be someone from our special needs group that couldn't wait or got confused."
"Some people don't have bathrooms....I wonder if she is homeless."
"Some people are mentally ill."
"Some people are really messed up..."
"Why didn't she go inside?"
"Why didn't she take cover behind the dumpster?"
"Why didn't she use the privacy of the bushes and trees in the prayer garden not 10 feet away?"

The reason I had time to cover all of these possibilities is because she had a very large bladder.

Finally. From my mirror, I watched as the woman nonchalantly pulled up her sweatpants. She acted like nothing unusual had just happened. I would guess her age as late 20's-early 30's. Her face had "hard life" written all over it.

As I continued watching, a young hulk of a man (late teens-early 20's?) climbed into the passenger seat. He must have come from inside the church. I was stunned as the woman climbed into the driver's seat. She pushed her hair away from her face, fastened her seatbelt, and drove away, leaving a large puddle in her wake.

The disturbing image has stayed with me. Even more disturbing has been the realization of the levels of judgment by which I measured this mystery woman.

When I thought it might be a sick individual - I was willing to extend grace.
When I thought it might be a child - I was still willing to extend grace.
When I realized it was an adult - not so much grace.
It could be one of our special needs' friends - okay a little more grace.
A mentally ill individual - surely they should know better - less grace.
Someone who just did it because she felt like it - I'm struggling.

Once again, I am face-to-face with the truth that I don't know how to love like Jesus. It is obvious to me that my grace is based on the merit system. Jesus' grace is based on his ability to love like the Father. I am incapable of that kind of love on my own. Oh, how I need my Savior to show me the way.

Had she remained in the lot, I would have been required, by God, to go over to her and speak. I am certain of it. What would I have said? How would she have responded? We will never know.

I am convinced that she has bigger problems than using a church parking lot as her own private bathroom. Truly, what kind of person would do such a thing?

There is only one answer that matters: The kind Jesus loves.

Father,
You love all of Your children. You have no favorites (Acts 10:34). Teach me how to love like you do. In the name of Jesus, who died for all mankind, Amen.