By: Steve Wilmot
During the hippie movement in the 1960s, it was common for parents to give their children odd names. Time Warp. Spring Fever. Moonbeam. Earth. Love. Precious Promise.
In those days, a kindergarten teacher met Fruit Stand. Along with the other children in his class, Fruit Stand was given a name tag to make it easier for the teacher and his classmates to learn his name. His teacher thought his name was odd but tried to make the best of it.
“Would you like to play with the blocks, Fruit Stand?” she offered. And later, “Fruit Stand, how about a snack?” By the end of the day, his name didn’t seem much odder than Heather or Sun Rays.
At dismissal time, teachers led the children to the buses. “Fruit Stand, do you know which one is your bus?” He didn’t answer. That wasn’t strange. He hadn’t answered them all day. She assumed he was shy.
When they dropped off their children for school that morning, teachers had instructed the parents to write the names of their children’s bus stop on the reverse side of their name tags.
Since Fruit Stand didn’t answer which bus was his, the teacher simply turned over the name tag. There, neatly printed, was the word “Anthony.”
Everyone makes wrong assumptions. When we assume, we usually assume bad motives — right? Then we react to what we assume with wrong actions, thoughts, and responses toward that person.
Anger, broken relationships, unforgiveness, determination to get even, bitterness, erroneous conclusions about the kind of person he is, etc.
There is a way to avoid those unwelcome consequences. “Love always trusts” (1 Corinthians 13.7). That means love always assumes the best about people in any situation. Love gives others the benefit of the doubt. It looks for the best in people.
Be honest now. You don’t really know another’s motives. You can speculate, but you don’t know. You jump to conclusions.
You don’t know why he didn’t call. You don’t know why they forgot to invite you to the party. So, you assume the worst. You get mad and feel hurt and rejected. Yet nine times out of ten, there isn’t anything malicious behind it.
He didn’t forget to call you — his cell phone battery died. They didn’t invite you to their party because you told them you were going to be out of town.
In “How’s Your Soul?” Judah Smith illustrates what love that always trusts looks like. “On Monday morning, when your coworker throws you under the bus in front of your boss, ‘loves trusts’ needs to kick in.
She didn’t mean it. I know it looked like she meant it, and it sounded like she meant it, and everyone else thinks she meant it. But I choose to believe the best.
“She was trying to be funny. She wasn’t thinking. She had a bad morning. She hasn’t had her coffee yet. She must be facing something difficult at home. She probably regrets what she said already.
“It means you decide to believe that whatever happened wasn’t what the person really meant to do or say.”
I know that’s difficult, especially if you have a history with this person, or you are positive he meant to do or say the thing that hurt you. But we are called to be like Jesus. As he was nailed to the cross, he said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23.34).
Of course, they knew what they were doing. Not to the full extent, but they knew. But Jesus’ love gave them the benefit of the doubt. And even if they knew exactly what they were doing, Jesus chose to believe they did it in ignorance or haste or peer pressure, and they’ll regret it later.
That’s the love we should have for everyone — family, friends, foes, acquaintances, and people we cross paths with for the first time. You say, loving like Jesus did is too high a standard. He never failed to love, but however hard I try to imitate him, I can’t.
Okay, take someone just like you: Stephen. Just a common, ordinary Christian who wanted to do what Jesus did, even though he never did it perfectly.
A crowd of angry Jews stoned him to death because of his unwavering faith in Jesus. There’s no question they knew what they were doing, but like Jesus, he chose to believe they didn’t, and one day they’d understand their error and repent. With his dying breath, he cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7.60).
That’s what love looks like. It always trusts. What if we began to love this way? What would change in our homes? Our workplace? Our neighborhoods? With our friends, and our foes? In the church we attend?
Let’s try it and see.
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Steve Wilmot is a former Edgerton, Ohio area pastor who now seeks “to still bear fruit in old age” through writing. He is the author of seven books designed to assist believers to make steady progress on their spiritual journey.