Cigarettes, Cupcakes
and the Thought Police
But why dost thou
judge thy brother?
Or why dost thou set
at nought thy brother?
For we shall all stand
before the judgment seat of Christ.
— Romans 14:10
OK, I used to smoke up until 15
years ago. Well, excuuuuuuuuuse meeeeeeeeeeee!!!
I didn't really care what other
people thought of me; the addiction was that strong. Let's review: smoking is
perfectly legal, and if you read all through the Ten Commandments, you won't
find it there.
But one day, someone I know who's a
real Health Queen happened to see my pack of cigarettes. She loudly sucked in
her breath . . .
HUNHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
. . . and I mean . . . paint peeled
off our walls, that gasp was so loud and disapproving! Entire forests were
uprooted! Tall downtown buildings leaned our way!
It was as if I'd started a nuclear
war, stomped on a baby chick and belched in the face of Miss America. The
incident added so much to my stress, I smoked all the more. I finally quit, a
while later. But it was no thanks to that giant sucking sound.
Judgmentalism? I hate it. I fight it
in myself, all the time. Yes, we're supposed to "discern" right and wrong. But
no, we're not supposed to rub it in other people's faces when they don't live
up to perfect "specs."
I believe criticism mostly
backfires, removes positive influences, and distances people, instead of
bringing them closer together.
Judgmental Christians do more damage
to the cause of Christ than sin ever could. An example happened recently to a
sweet friend of mine. Here's how it went:
Her husband was out of town, and her
16-year-old daughter had a bunch of girlfriends over. They all worked hard in
school, participated in athletics, didn't go near drugs and alcohol, and were
all-American, nice, giggly teenage girls. They came to her that night with an
odd request: they wanted to go to an "R"-rated horror movie. Would she take
them?
She knew it was really scary and
gory. But it didn't have sex. It didn't have nudity. It didn't push the occult.
It didn't downgrade our country.
And they didn't go behind her back
and sneak in, as kids do. She was glad for that. Bottom line: she didn't
believe this one movie was going to influence them negatively. The most
violence these girls ever committed was screaming real loud at football games.
They weren't going to go bonkers and rampage the neighborhood with chain saws
and machetes.
So she took them. They were standing
in line at the movie theater when . . . wouldn't you just know? . . . here came
the most pious, holy, Bible-thumping woman of her entire acquaintance. She had
a bunch of kids in tow, too.
"Oh, hi, there!" Mrs. Pious shouted
across the theater to my friend. "We're going to see the movie Pink Cupcakes Tap-Dancing on a Rainbow
(OK, I made the title up, but it was something like that). What are YOU going
to see?"
My friend looked left. My friend
looked right. She writhed in agony. Finally, she told the truth.
Mrs. Pious gasped, dramatically and
loudly. I mean, the theater's carpet rippled up! People's popcorn boxes burst!
Heads snapped around to see what terrible thing was happening.
"Ohhhhhh! You're NOT taking them to
see THAT!?!?!"
Other people glared at my friend, as
if she were toting a dead body, a machine gun and a stack of Playgirl magazines. She slunk into the
movie with the teens, humiliated, like she wasn't a good mother after all, and
certainly not a good Christian.
By the end of the movie, though, she
was smiling. In one of the scariest scenes, somebody PRAYED for deliverance,
and they GOT it.
She knew for a FACT that there was
no Gospel presentation or prayer or mention of God in the cupcake movie.
She turned it into a lesson for the
girls: God's there and He cares, whether you're about to have your head chopped
off . . . or just got a "C" on a test.
Take that, you gaspers: judge not,
that ye not miss out on some good stuff. †
