Show Don't Tell: Matthew 7:1-6

Picture this: a sunny Saturday morning in a small town, the kind where everyone knows each other and the market square buzzes with laughter and chatter. As I stroll through the vibrant crowd, I notice my neighbor, Mr. Thompson, wrestling with a large plank of wood. He’s stumbling, visibly annoyed, and it’s comical—the beam juts out awkwardly from his forehead, bobbing with each exaggerated step. “Mr. Thompson!” I call out, my voice rising above the clamor. “You’ve got a little something there!”

He squints at me, confusion painted on his face. “What do you mean?” As he reaches to brush away a speck of sawdust from his own eye, I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity. How can he even see it with that lumber blocking his view? “Let me help you!” I say, trying to stifle my laughter, as if I could possibly remove sawdust when I’m standing next to a man with a full construction beam protruding from his skull!

But then, the laughter fades, replaced by a gut punch of conviction. How often do we, like Mr. Thompson, ignore our glaring faults while nitpicking the tiniest flaws in others? We walk around with our own burdens, yet we’re quick to point out the sawdust in our brother’s eye.

And then I remember the wisdom of Jesus: “Don’t give what is sacred to dogs,” He said. It’s a delicate balance. Not everyone is ready to receive our truth, and sometimes our discernment is as crucial as our honesty. So let us take a moment, friends. Let’s pull the plank from our own eyes first, so we can see clearly and love genuinely.