Slow to Judge…Learning to ask more questions

by Millie Watkins | May 18, 2024 | Learning

Do you remember high school homework? In my opinion, “Read the chapter and answer the questions at the end,” was the worst. It doesn’t take much engagement for a teacher to send students on their way with “read the book.” This assignment assumes that what we need to learn is easy to grasp and readily supplies correct information in response to predetermined questions. We all want easy answers and simple explanations but this kind of learning can be dangerous.

Even though most of us have graduated high school, we too often turn to this perfunctory impression of learning when we encounter difficult situations or frustrating experiences. We think that clarity will come by consulting our “book” of choice – a favorite news channel, a likeminded social media group, a favorite Bible verse, or our own life experience. These things that represent authority in our life are expected to provide uncomplicated answers to complex questions.

If you’ve ever contrasted this type of learning to an active, collaborative environment full of exploration, questions and synthesis, you know that growth and transformation are far more likely in the latter. Unlike an unengaged high school teacher, Faith, fully lived will challenge us to learning driven by exploration, curiosity and the active presence of God’s spirit to guide us with the full scope of his Word.

Observation at a Soda Fountain

We all want easy answers and simple explanations. Sure, quick answers can save time, but too often they reinforce flawed information. I caught myself doing this recently. I stopped in a popular casual dining restaurant for lunch. Since I was out of town and I had a couple of hours to wait until an afternoon meeting, I took a book and my journal along. After ordering a sandwich and a hot tea, I settled into a spot by a window near the door. Between reading and writing I indulged in a fair amount of people watching. That’s when I noticed a young woman pull her car decisively into a parking place, jump out and bound toward the entry. She set a straight course for the restroom. I decided to stay with the story. I wondered if I was catching her doing something I’ve done myself. Needing a restroom and lacking a public accommodation, I have used the facilities in a restaurant, walked past the “restrooms are for customers only” sign and returned to my car having never placed an order. I smiled to myself, feeling smug as her presumed peccadillo left me vindicated for my own identical sin. “It just goes to show how you can’t always follow the rules,” I thought.

I watched the restroom door, waiting to see if I had accurately assessed the situation. Before long the young lady emerged, but what she did next turned my conspiratorial sympathy upside down. Reaching into a shoulder bag, she extracted a soft drink cup, walked over to the self -serve fountain and drew herself a drink. Outrage! “It’s one thing to borrow the facilities when you aren’t a paying customer, it’s quite another to steal a drink you didn’t purchase,” I thought. I shifted position a bit to see if she would go to the counter to purchase the pilfered soda. This gave me a clear view of her direct exit to her car and out of the parking lot.

I have never served myself without paying. The technical transgression of “borrowing”’the restroom, well, that’s one thing. But grabbing an unpurchased soda, that’s a high crime. The woman that I had sympathetically excused became an entitled narcissistic thief. I couldn’t believe she did that!

In the aftermath of my “stake out” I reviewed what I had seen. Did she really place an empty cup in her bag to facilitate the premeditated robbery? I tried to remember the kind of cup she used. My visual memory recalled a logo on the cup. Where had I seen that logo before? And then I remembered. On the poster, near the front door of the restaurant. It was advertising the unlimited refill cup, available for purchase.

Judgement Revisited

I can’t be completely sure if the woman stole a soda or enjoyed the perks of a previous purchase. But I was humbled by the way my experience moved me from sympathy to moral outrage to curiosity. When I believed that she had winked at the “customer’s only” rule out of urgent need, I supported her. After all, I’ve done that too. But when I thought she took advantage of an unmonitored soda fountain I judged her rude and self-indulgent. It was only on later reflection that I grew curious. Why did I quickly overlook her behavior when it mirrored my own. Why did I condemn her when she did what I believed was wrong. And most of all why didn’t I engage my curiosity before becoming enraged? My desire for easy answers and simple explanations led me down a path of outrage.

Dallas Willard observed that we easily pray that we will all get along, or that we will give peace a chance. But he accurately points out that to give peace a chance we have to “do the things that make peace possible and actual.” And that to “get along” we have to “become the kind of persons who can get along.”*

Living Faith*Fully sets aside quick assumptions and enters into the dialog of prayer and curiosity. It makes space for reflection and gives room for learning and grace. I want to rely less on my personal experiences and my judgment and more on the nudging of God’s Spirit to find out more. Before I indulge in rage, I want to consider the situation from my adversary’s perspective. And so I’m praying, “Lord, help me to explore more and ask more questions before I assume the worst in my neighbors.”