#14: I Played Jesus Once. Apparently, I’m Still Being Judged.

"You need to watch your mouth."

Those were the words I heard Friday night when I extended my hand to shake someone's hand after my son's football game.

And somehow, about 15 seconds later, Jesus got dragged into the conversation.

Let me explain.

Friday night, my son's football team played an incredibly competitive game. It was close, emotional, and filled with controversial calls on both sides. The kind of game where emotions run high, the crowd gets loud, and everyone is convinced the officials are somehow against their team.

Ultimately, our boys came away with the win.

As I was walking down the bleachers to leave the stadium, I ran into someone I knew who happened to be a parent of a player on the opposing team. I greeted them by name, smiled, and extended my hand for a handshake.

They pulled their hand away.

"You need to watch your mouth."

Caught completely off guard, I responded, "Excuse me?"

That's when another individual standing nearby chimed in.

"Didn't you play Jesus in the Easter play?"

Well, yes. I did. Back in 2017. Although I wasn't entirely sure what my theatrical portrayal of Jesus nearly a decade ago had to do with a high school football game.

Apparently, some parents from our side had been exchanging words with parents from theirs during the game. When they asked who was responsible, someone allegedly pointed me out.

There was just one problem.

It wasn't me.

I explained that I hadn't said anything. My wife, who had been sitting beside me the entire game, confirmed it. But the accusations continued. The more I tried to explain, the more convinced they seemed to become that I was guilty.

Eventually, I walked away.

But I carried something with me.

A knot in my stomach.

And here I am, two days later, still thinking about it.

Now, before anyone mistakes this for me claiming to be some kind of saint, let me be clear.

Have I run my mouth at sporting events before? Absolutely. Am I competitive? Probably more than I should be. Do I want my son's team to win? Every single time. Am I quick-witted and occasionally guilty of having a comeback that should have stayed in my head? Without question.

But the one night I actually kept my mouth shut, I got accused of running it.

And it bothered me more than I care to admit.

Not because someone refused to shake my hand. Not because someone was upset about a football game. But because someone had already decided what I had done, who I was, and what I deserved before ever having a conversation with me.

They had heard something, believed something, and apparently that was enough.

They weren't looking for an explanation. They were looking for confirmation.

And I hate that.

I hate injustice. I hate being falsely accused. I hate having to defend myself against something that simply isn't true.

But here's where this story gets uncomfortable.

Not for them.

For me.

Because as I've replayed that conversation over and over, I've found myself asking a question I don't particularly enjoy answering.

How many times have I been the person on the other side of that handshake?

How many times have I formed an opinion about someone based on something I heard? How many times have I accepted someone else's version of a story without considering there might be another side? How many times have I been so convinced I was right that I stopped being willing to listen?

It's easy to demand fairness when we're the ones being treated unfairly.

It's much harder to extend that same fairness to someone else.

And maybe that's why this has bothered me so much.

Because the lesson isn't simply that someone got the wrong impression of me. It's that I have probably gotten the wrong impression of other people, too.

And while I can't control what someone else believes about me, I can control what I choose to believe about someone else.

I can ask questions before making accusations. I can listen before reaching conclusions. I can extend the benefit of the doubt, even when it would be easier not to.

And perhaps most importantly, I can choose not to let someone else's anger become my anger.

As for that knot in my stomach? It's still there a little.

Because knowing the truth doesn't always make being misunderstood hurt any less.

But I'm learning that integrity isn't about making sure everyone knows you're innocent. Sometimes it's about knowing the truth yourself and being willing to walk away when there's nothing left to prove.

And maybe the greatest injustice would be allowing someone else's unfair treatment of me to become an excuse for treating someone else the same way.

So here's my challenge, starting with myself.

Before you believe the story you've heard about someone, make sure you've heard the story from them.

You might discover you were wrong.

And even if you weren't, you'll have given someone the dignity of being heard.

Besides, I may have played Jesus in 2017, but apparently I still have some work to do on the whole turning the other cheek thing.

Especially when the other cheek has a really good comeback ready to go.

Keep the fire burning. 🔥