When Friendship and Judgment Collide
Walking with friends through hard truths — with humility, mercy, and discernment
This reflection was originally published on Medium under the “Even Here” publication.
Read it there → Even Here
This reflection grew out of my previous post, “When Speaking the Truth in Love Becomes a Weapon.” There, I wrestled with how words meant to help can end up harming when truth is wielded without tenderness. But the question stayed with me: if we’re not called to silence, and if truth must be spoken, then how do we do it well?
Jesus’ words in Matthew 7:1–6 have often been quoted — and often misunderstood. But read slowly, they offer a path of correction that begins not with our friend’s faults, but with our own hearts. What does it mean to speak wisely, kindly, and faithfully — especially in friendship? How do we know when to speak, what to say, or whether to say anything at all?
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged.”
These words from Jesus in Matthew 7:1 are often quoted — sometimes as a shield to avoid correction, sometimes as a sword to silence others. But Jesus isn’t prohibiting all forms of judgment. He’s not asking us to abandon discernment or moral clarity. What He’s confronting is a particular kind of posture: the self-righteous spirit that stands above others, quick to critique but slow to listen or repent.
This kind of judgment forgets mercy. It forgets that we too stand in need of grace. It creates distance, not restoration. And in the context of friendship — especially spiritual friendship — it can cause real harm. When we speak from a place of superiority, even the truth can become a weapon.
Jesus isn’t saying, “never speak.” He’s saying, learn to see clearly first. What follows is not a prohibition, but a path — a way of approaching others with clarity, kindness, and the humility that only self-awareness can bring.
The Plank and the Speck
It’s easier to notice what’s wrong with someone else than to face what’s unresolved in ourselves. Jesus illustrates this tendency with a striking image: someone trying to remove a tiny speck from their friend’s eye while oblivious to a plank of wood protruding from their own.
It’s absurd — and intentionally so. The point isn’t just that you shouldn’t judge. It’s that you’re in no position to help unless you’ve first been honest with your own condition.
And that’s the hard part. Self-examination requires courage. It means asking God to show us the blind spots we’d rather ignore. It means inviting the Spirit to search our motives, our defensiveness, even our desire to be “right.”
But Jesus doesn’t say we must be perfect before we speak. He says we must be honest.
“First take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly…”
The goal isn’t silence, but compassionate vision — seeing others rightly because we’ve let God search us first. Not to condemn, but to help. Not to elevate ourselves, but to walk alongside our friends with grace.
This matters deeply in friendship. Because real friends don’t just affirm us. They walk with us in truth. But that kind of truth-telling requires humility. It has to come from a place of love — not superiority, not resentment, not hidden pride. As Proverbs says, “Wounds from a friend can be trusted.” But only when they are given with care, and only when they come from someone who has done the inner work first.
Weighing Our Words
But even after self-examination, there’s still more to consider. Before we speak, we need to weigh not only our posture, but also our content.
Ask:
Is what I’m about to say true?
Is it kind?
Is it necessary?
Will it build up or tear down? Will it bring light or just heat? Am I speaking from Scripture — or from my own preferences, assumptions, or frustrations?
These questions don’t silence us. They sharpen us. They remind us that correction is sacred work, not casual commentary. Truth without love can become cold and cutting. Love without truth can become vague and enabling. We need both — and we need the wisdom to know which one to lead with.
Especially in close friendships, the line between helpful honesty and harmful overstepping can be thin. That’s why Paul reminds us to speak the truth in love — not just to be right, but to help one another grow into maturity.
Discernment is more than identifying what’s wrong. It’s about knowing howand when to speak, and whether our words will draw someone closer to God — or drive them away.
Don’t Throw Pearls
Then comes the unexpected turn in Jesus’ teaching:
“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs…”
At first, this sounds almost out of place. But it follows logically. After learning to examine ourselves and weigh our words, we’re also told to discern the hearer.
Not everyone will receive correction — even gracious, thoughtful, true correction — with openness. Some may mock it. Others may trample on it. Jesus isn’t asking us to judge who’s “worth” the truth. None of us are, on our own. But He is calling us to recognize that sacred things — like wisdom, truth, correction, even vulnerability — shouldn’t be given carelessly or imposed forcefully on someone who is hostile or dismissive.
There’s a kind of stewardship here.
When something is precious, you don’t throw it around. You guard it. You entrust it to those who will receive it with reverence.
In practice, that might mean holding silence for now. Waiting until the person is ready. Praying more than speaking. Listening more than instructing. Discernment isn’t just about boldness. It’s also about restraint.
The Friendship That Corrects
So maybe Jesus is saying this:
When you correct, start with yourself.
When you speak, speak from grace.
When you discern, choose the moment — and the person — wisely.
Because true friendship isn’t about being brutally honest. It’s about being faithfully present — the kind of presence that tells the truth with tears in its eyes, that prays before speaking, that wants restoration more than being proven right.
This kind of friendship requires courage. But it also requires humility.
It refuses to weaponize truth.
It refuses to protect peace at the cost of integrity.
And it refuses to act as though the Holy Spirit needs no room to work.
Reflection
When have I spoken a hard truth without first examining myself?
Do I speak with kindness and conviction — or just conviction?
What does it look like, in my friendships, to correct in a way that reflects the grace of God?