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Judgment & Discernment

Churches tend to drift into two opposite sins:

  1. Harsh, suspicious judgment that calls itself "discernment."
  2. Cowardly silence that calls itself "love."

Both dishonor Christ. Both wound people. And Scripture addresses both with startling clarity.

When "Concern" Isn't Concern

There's a kind of "concern" that isn't really concern.

It rushes to conclusions, assigns motives, and turns someone's story into a courtroom before the facts have even arrived. Often it isn't driven by truth as much as by an unsettled heart looking for somewhere to place its unrest.

Harsh judgment is often less like a window and more like a mirror. It can reveal more about the one doing the staring than the one being stared at.

Jesus names the problem plainly:

"Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye."
—Matthew 7:5

Christ isn't banning discernment—He's banning hypocrisy.

Start with your own heart. A man with a beam in his eye can't see straight—no matter how confident he sounds.

And we're all tempted here. Unconfessed sin, injured pride, jealousy, fear, insecurity—these can shape how we read people and situations. Sometimes we call it "discernment," but it's really distortion.

So Scripture doesn't call us to hypersensitivity. It calls us to humility. You are not required to carry accusations God does not confirm. Let the Lord be your final judge—He sees clearly, He knows fully, and He never mistakes a mote for a beam.

If you've been unfairly judged: resist the reflex to defend your dignity in every conversation. God searches hearts. In time, truth has a way of stepping into the light.

And if you've judged unfairly: don't hide behind certainty. Repent quickly. Ask God to cleanse your vision before you speak about someone else's life.

When Love Refuses to Act

Now the other side of the blade: the church doesn't only struggle with wrong judgment. It also struggles with no judgment at all.

I've seen the damage done when churches refuse to address open, persistent, unrepented sin. Often it's not mercy—it's fear. Friendships complicate courage. Image-management replaces obedience. And the fear of man quietly becomes the steering wheel.

Scripture calls that fear a snare.

The Bible draws a bright line between self-righteous condemnation and holy, loving discipline:

One condemns.
The other restores.

God's aim hasn't changed:

"But as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation."
—1 Peter 1:15

The church isn't a museum for flawless saints. It's a hospital for repentant sinners. But no hospital helps anyone by pretending the disease doesn't exist.

When sin is out in the open and repentance is refused, love doesn't wink, whisper, or rage online. Love acts—carefully, biblically, and with Christlike courage.

Jesus Himself gives the pattern:

"Moreover if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone…"
—Matthew 18:15–17

This is private concern before it ever becomes public action. The goal is not exposure—it is restoration.

If repentance happens, the matter ends quietly and beautifully. Grace wins without a spectacle.

But if repentance is refused, Jesus lays out measured steps:

Why so serious? Because sin rarely stays contained. It spreads.

"Know ye not that a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump?"
—1 Corinthians 5:6

This isn't about demanding perfection. It's about identifying direction.

Every believer struggles. Every pastor struggles. Every elder struggles. The issue is not weakness—it's willfulness. There is a world of difference between:

Then Paul speaks with sobering clarity:

"Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God?"
—1 Corinthians 6:9–10

And leaders are not exempt. If anything, the standard tightens:

"Them that sin rebuke before all, that others also may fear."
—1 Timothy 5:20

When a church refuses discipline entirely, something starts to rot. The gospel loses weight. And the watching world ends up asking a fair question:

If our Book says Christians don't live like this—but Christians here do, and nobody blinks—does anyone actually believe it?

Biblical discipline is not cruelty. It is courage.
It is not petty judgment. It is obedience.
It is not hatred. It is love with a backbone.

The Balance We Must Hold

Here's the tension the church must carry without dropping either end:

Hypocritical judgment is evil.
Unloving passivity is also evil.

One flows from pride and says, "Look at you."
The other flows from love and says, "Come home."

Truth without love is brutality.
Love without truth is betrayal.

So let's do the right thing—always:

Christ does not call His people to be harsh.
And He does not call His people to be spineless.

He calls us to be holy—and to love like He loves.

So repent where you've been harsh, and be brave where you've been silent—because Jesus deserves a church that tells the truth with clean hands.