grace given me

Unless you live under a rock, you probably read about “the proposal heard around the world”—this week Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce got engaged. One detail caught my attention: Travis Kelce’s mom changed her Facebook cover photo to pictures of the two of them as children. Can I just say, I love that she did that? It resonated with me. Despite the fame, the headlines, and yes—the haters—it’s really just two children, two humans. Two children who grew up and want love and marriage like the rest of us. I’m not a Swiftie, but the poignancy of that post struck me because, just before seeing it, I had wandered into a string of harsh comments about a Christian writer I respect. It made me consider how relentless public criticism can be. But honestly, it isn’t only famous people who face it. We all know what it’s like to be picked apart. And the choice is always in front of us: to add to the noise of critique, or to offer kindness. To judge, or to extend mercy. To wield truth like a weapon, or to hold it out with love.

I have to admit that I am a recovering critic. For years, I took pride in my “discerning spirit” and desire to “help” others. To be fair, my heart really did want to help. But, here’s where it fell apart: I knew very little of the Bible—much less lived by it. I was also carrying unaddressed hurts and offenses and not walking in freedom. So basically, I was offering opinions to others. Opinions based on my knowledge, my experiences, my beliefs. I meant no harm, but when I step back and look honestly, it was self-centered—rooted more in fear and insecurity than in love. I became aware that true kindness and love are hard to extend when our focus is inward. I realized I needed to get my gaze up and out if I wanted to take Jesus’ command to love one another more seriously. 

At the start of this year, I began attending our church’s weekly women’s prayer gathering. At the end, we are asked to find someone we don’t know and pray together. Here’s what I’ve learned: everyone is carrying something. The old woman. The young woman. The married one. The single one. The mom. The woman longing to be a mom. The one with a diagnosis. The one looking for a new job. The one who looks like she has it all together. All of them—carrying burdens, longing for hope. And I realized, more than critique, discernment, or advice, what people need is kindness. I was reminded of a line in Jamie Winship’s Living Fearless, where his mentor told him: “Focus on the wounded people in front of you.”

These days, I am trying to practice more presence, more listening, more putting myself in another person’s shoes. More love. But what about truth? Don’t we still need to speak truth? Absolutely. But I love how Paul frames it in Ephesians 4:15: “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” Tim Keller puts it this way: “Truth without love is harshness; it gives us information but in such a way that we cannot really hear it.” Even an Instagram meme prompts: “True loving kindness is the extent to which you consider the other party.” How will they receive what you say to them? What can they do with what you have said to them? Truth matters. But truth without kindness is a hammer.

I fight my flesh on this daily. Recently, I found refreshment in the book of Jude: “But you, dear friends, must build each other up in your most holy faith, pray in the power of the Holy Spirit, and await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ… Show mercy to those whose faith is wavering.” (Jude 1:20–22). I am convicted. Let’s ease up on others. Quit the judging, the critiquing, the faux-helping. Start offering kindness and see what happens. For me, the result has been more peace, love, and joy than I ever found trying to wrestle people into my way of seeing things.

Lord, we enter your gates with thanksgiving and praise. Thank you for your Word that convicts my heart and draws me away from self-righteousness. I praise you for sending Jesus to show us what true, sacrificial kindness looks like. Remind me of his words on the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34) Forgive them. Forgive me. None of us are walking in your perfect will. Wash us in your mercy and grace, Lord, so that we might extend it to others. Thank you for never holding back your kindness when we ask. Amen.