Too Eager To Rebuke — Too Proud For Reproof

Years ago, in a restaurant parking lot, my brother-in-law rebuked a woman he didn’t even know. “Rebuke” is a real Christiany-sounding word but he’s a Christian and he did vigorously point out her error, and since that’s what rebuke means, it fits. We were walking to our cars when he abruptly stopped and began to wildly motion to a driver who was backing out of a parking space. She stopped and cracked her window just enough to hear what he was trying to say, which is a lot more than I would have done if a stranger wildly waved at me. Here’s what he said:

“Ma’am, everything that is important to you is on the roof of your car. Your purse. Your phone. Your food. Let’s pretend we’re at Sonic and I’ll be your server. Hi, my name is Aaron. Here’s your order. Have a nice day.”

He handed her the stuff from the top of the car, she thanked him, and drove off.

Okay, so rebuke may be a bit strong. But she was in error and he did point it out. Go ahead and try pointing out someone’s error these days and see what happens. You’ll be hash-tagged on Twitter, flamed on Facebook as a hater, and called intolerant on Instagram. It’s like the only thing that’s still considered a sin is having the temerity to point out someone else’s sin. If my brother-in-law did the same woman the same favor today, he’d be labeled (a) a hypocrite, because he’s left stuff on top of his car before; (b) a part of an oppressive hegemony that thinks there’s only one way to carry stuff with your car; and (c) a sexist, because HE corrected HER.

I’ve been wondering why people these days are so afraid of being challenged. Part of it, I think, is a Judges 17:6 thing: “everyone did as he saw fit.” You can’t tell me I’m wrong because what’s right for you isn’t necessarily right for me, so mind your own business you intolerant hater, you.

And that last part is another reason I think people these days are so sensitive to criticism — the part where they call their critic a hater. They’ve been taught to believe that the only possible reason anyone would not be in favor of their lifestyle choices is hate. It couldn’t be because of a moral code or a set of deeply held values or the desire to live by some objective, external standard. No, the only reason anyone isn’t on board with whatever it is you are doing, is hate. So, yeah, the culture has some work to do. But I think there’s another reason people are so unchallengeable.

It’s partly our fault. Some Christians seem to get off on telling others off. Some of us relish opportunities to rebuke. If you’ve got a speck in your eye, they’ll see it and say something about it, their own beam be-danged. You can’t fault them for not having convictions. But you can’t find much compassion in their souls. And conviction without compassion is just mean. The Bible talks a lot about confrontation, but you might be surprised at which side it seems to come down on the most.

In Mark 10:13, people were bringing their children to Jesus for a blessing, but the disciples, apparently irritated by the interruption, rebuked them. Jesus was irritated, too. At the disciples.

In Mark 10:46 – 52, a blind man named Bartimaeus called out for Jesus to have mercy on him. Many in the crowd rebuked him and told him to be quiet, I guess because they thought he was bothering Jesus. Jesus was, in fact, bothered, but not by the blind man. He stopped and healed him.

Then, of course, there’s the mother of all backfiring rebukes in Mark 8:32 – 33, where Peter rebuked Jesus. That went . . . poorly.

As far as I can tell, there are only two places in the New Testament where one person rebuked another and the rebuke is neither questioned nor challenged. One is in Galatians 2:11 – 21, where Paul got all up in Peter’s grill for pretending to be more Jewish than he was. The other is in Luke 23:40 – 41. One dying thief looks past Jesus to another dying thief and says, “We’re getting what we deserve, but this man has done nothing.”

So maybe the problem isn’t having the audacity to confront (in fact, we have a responsibility to do so, Matthew 18:15 – 17); it’s the attitude with which we do it. In every instance of rejected rebuke, the confronter assumed himself to be in a superior position to the confronted. It was always top-down confrontation. The disciples looked down on the children. The townspeople looked down on the blind man. Peter even looked down on Jesus.

It isn’t the action of confronting someone that is condemned. It’s the self-righteous attitude. As long as you recognize that you are a convicted sinner, guilty as all get out, it’s okay for you to confront sin in me. If, for one second, you think you’re better than me, you may as well be talking trash to Jesus. It is one of the amazing ironies of grace; recognizing the sin in your own life allows you to gracefully say something to me about mine. Not so that you will feel better or look better or be better. But so that I will.

And that’s why gathering around the table on Sunday is such a big deal. That’s the time and place where we remember just what it cost to make each of us right with God. It’s hard to take the bread and taste the wine and come away feeling self-righteous. At least it should be.