When Judgment Clouds Our Vision
Have you ever been quick to judge someone, only to later discover a whole backstory you never knew? I've been guilty of this too often. This tendency of the human heart recently hit me afresh when I re-examined the story of Moses striking the rock at Kadesh.
Like many believers, I've often viewed this account through a simplistic lens. God said, "Speak to the rock," but Moses struck it instead, and punishment ensued. An open-and-shut case of disobedience, right?
However, as I dug a little deeper into the passage this morning, something was revealed. Standing once again at Kadesh after forty years of wilderness wandering, Moses wasn't merely facing another water crisis; he was standing at the epicenter of Israel's greatest failure.
Imagine what must have raced through Moses' 120-year-old mind. Here he was, back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. The place where, four decades earlier, the Promised Land had been within reach before fear and faithlessness snatched it away. Every grain of sand at Kadesh whispered of what might have been.
Then, Scripture carefully notes something easily overlooked: "Then came the children of Israel... into the desert of Zin in the first month; and the people abode in Kadesh; and Miriam died there, and was buried there" (Numbers 20:1).
Moses had just buried his sister. Grief was still fresh when the grumbling began again. The same old complaints, the same lack of faith, the same accusations. But now, it was on the shoulders of a man who had spent forty years watching nearly everyone he started the journey with die in the wilderness, including his own sister.
Is it any surprise that when he declared, "Hear now, ye rebels; must we fetch you water out of this rock?" (Numbers 20:10), his frustration boiled over into an act of disobedience?
This doesn't excuse his sin. God's judgment remained just. But understanding the context makes Moses more human, doesn't it? More like us.
How often do we see someone snap, fail, or stumble and immediately render judgment without considering the private griefs they might be carrying? What accumulated disappointments might be weighing on them? What unspoken battles might they be fighting?
"Judge not, that ye be not judged" (Matthew 7:1) takes on deeper meaning when we recognize how rarely we see the complete picture of another's circumstances.
The next time you're tempted to condemn someone's actions outright, pause and consider. There might be a Kadesh in their past. There might be a freshly dug grave in their heart. There might be forty years of frustration behind that single moment of failure.
None of us are as simple as our worst moments might suggest, and none of us are called to be each other's judges. Instead, we're called to extend the same grace we would wish to receive if others knew all our hidden burdens.
After all, if even Moses, the friend of God who spoke with Him face to face, could reach his breaking point, perhaps we should tread lightly when assessing the struggles of others. Isn't that how we would want others to see us when we fall?