Leave the Judging to the Judge
If we all abandoned each other when we made mistakes, there would be no authentic human relationships
The prosecutor stood up and asked the judge to bar me from the trial.
Some years ago, a friend of mine stood trial as the defendant in a high-profile case. I felt compelled to support him despite the controversial nature of the alleged crime. The circumstances were such that guilt or innocence was not an easy conclusion to reach. But as a friend and a pastor, I have never felt I could abandon people, even when they are guilty of wrongdoing. The very definition of my religious belief compels me to lean in on caring and grace. If we all abandoned each other when we made mistakes, there would be no authentic human relationships. All of us make mistakes.
I will concede that certain mistakes make it harder than others to extend grace. I have had difficulty extending grace to people who strategically and methodically get children addicted to drugs. I have found it almost impossible to be gracious toward people who abuse and traffic children who often end up as slaves. And I am very unsympathetic toward clergy who scam vulnerable and unsuspecting Christians who believe these criminals actually represent God.
But even in those cases, I am obligated as a Christian to avoid judging these people. Judgment belongs to God. So, in the case of my friend, I offered my support to the defendant and the family. That support included attending the trial and sitting with them.
The first time I walked in, I could see the relief on the family’s faces. The benches in the gallery were hard wood. The trial was long and complicated. I attended a couple of times before the prosecutor made his move. His theory was that my presence amounted to jury tampering. He said my influence and the influence of my church would taint the jurors’ ability to be objective when they saw me sitting with the family.
I didn’t know if I should be flattered or offended. I must admit that a part of me was flattered to think that this prosecutor really believed I had that much influence. My church was one of the largest in the state. But to think that my presence in the courtroom would prejudice the jurors on behalf of the defendant far exceeded the scope of my influence. Still, it felt good to think that he thought so.
But it was clearly an offense, not a compliment. The prosecutor was grasping at straws. He was probably offended that our community was rallying around the defendant, which shed light on the weakness of his case. He was so adamant that the judge had to stop the trial. The attorneys argued for an entire day on whether I would be allowed to attend. The conclusion was that I could attend the trial but not sit with the family.
What the prosecutor’s complaint actually revealed is that the church was doing what a church is supposed to do, and some institutions read presence as interference. One church development consultant has raised this question: “If your church were to close, who would miss it?” Well, it seems if my church had closed, at least one prosecutor would have missed it.