NorthStar Church Blog

Have you ever been in a situation where someone was completely convinced they were right about you, but they were missing something obvious about themselves? It’s frustrating, mostly because it feels so backwards. We tend to see clearly when it comes to other people, but not nearly as clearly when it comes to ourselves.

That’s exactly where Jesus takes us in Luke 6:41–42. Here we are in one of the most well-known parts of the passage: the speck and the log. This is a text that gets quoted often, especially as a way of shutting down any kind of correction or accountability. The idea becomes, “You can’t say anything about me,” or “You’ve got your own issues, so stay out of mine.” But that misses what Jesus is actually teaching, especially when you read it in the flow of what He has already said.

Just a few verses earlier, Jesus says, “A disciple is not above his teacher.” That raises an important question: What does a teacher actually do? A teacher instructs. A teacher corrects. A teacher helps someone see what they cannot see on their own. A good teacher doesn’t ignore mistakes; they address them. In fact, part of what makes someone a good teacher is their willingness to step in when something is off and guide it back into place.

Think about it in a simple, everyday setting. In sports, a coach doesn’t get fired for correcting players; he gets fired if he doesn’t. Imagine a high school baseball coach who never gave instruction, never adjusted form, never pointed out mistakes, and never held anyone accountable. He just stood there and said, “You’re doing great,” no matter what was happening on the field. That wouldn’t be kindness; it would be neglect. Or take it further: What if the coach never played at a high level, maybe never even had standout success as an athlete, but now he’s coaching players who are far more gifted? Does that disqualify him from speaking into their development? Of course not. His value isn’t in being the best player, but in having a different vantage point that helps others grow.

That’s the principle Jesus is working with. The issue in Luke 6:41–42 is not whether correction is allowed; it’s about posture. Jesus says, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” It’s a picture of distorted vision. We tend to become incredibly aware of the small issues in other people’s lives while remaining blind to much larger issues in our own.

And Jesus makes it even more direct: “How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye?” Then He names it plainly: hypocrisy. Not because correction itself is wrong, but because correction without self-awareness is dangerous!

The point is not, “Never help someone grow.” The point is, “Don’t pretend you are above the same grace you’re trying to extend to someone else.” Jesus is not removing accountability. He is purifying it. He is calling His followers to be the kind of people who can help others see clearly, but only after they have allowed God to deal with their own vision first.

This is where it gets very practical. It is easy to drift into one of two extremes. On one side, you avoid ever speaking truth into someone’s life because you’re afraid of being judgmental. On the other side, you become someone who is quick to point out what is wrong in others while rarely slowing down to examine yourself. Jesus rejects both. He calls for humility that produces clarity.

This is also where community matters deeply. If you surround yourself only with people who think like you, act like you, and never challenge you, something subtle begins to happen. You stop seeing clearly. The “log” doesn’t disappear just because no one mentions it. But when you invite people into your life who love you enough to speak truth, something different happens. You begin to see what you couldn’t see before. You grow in ways you wouldn’t have on your own. Not because they are better than you, but because they are willing to see what you cannot always see in yourself.

At the same time, Jesus is clear that we are meant to help others grow. The goal is not to wait until we are perfect before we speak into anyone’s life. The goal is humility in process. We are people who are being shaped by grace and, therefore, able to help others while still being shaped ourselves.

So Jesus is not saying, “Don’t ever address the speck in someone else’s eye.” He is saying, “Don’t do it while ignoring the log in your own.” Deal with your own heart first. Let God refine your vision first. Then you will actually be able to help others in a way that brings healing instead of harm.

Take a minute to consider this today. Are the people closest to you helping you see your blind spots, or are they unintentionally reinforcing them? That’s a hard question to answer. But I have an even deeper (and scarier) question: If you’re honest, which one do you actually want shaping your life? One is the easy choice. The other is a path to righteousness!

These past few weeks at our college ministry, WAVE, I have been checking in with students on how their semester is ending. Here is the phrase I heard most from all of them: “I don’t have a final; I have a group project, and it’s not going well because everyone else in my group just started.”

Now, being in college ministry for a while, I have learned that the statement may not be fully true, and the student I am talking to is probably also just starting their part of the group project. It all starts the day the project is assigned. Either everyone knows what they’re doing and roles are clear, or nobody really understands the assignment, and somebody is tasked with taking the lead. Typically, the second option is 99% of group projects, and before long, the project isn’t just messy; it’s heading nowhere fast. The frustrating part is that everyone is doing something, but no one is actually equipped to do their part well.

That image helps make sense of what Jesus is getting at in Luke 6:39–40. At first, it sounds almost too obvious. Of course, a blind person cannot successfully guide another blind person. The outcome is predictable. But Jesus isn’t trying to give a clever observation about physical ability; He’s exposing something deeper about spiritual influence and formation.

It’s possible to be active, confident, and even well-intentioned while still lacking the clarity needed to actually lead others well. That’s what makes this teaching so important because Jesus is not just talking about leadership in a formal sense. He’s talking about influence, discipleship, and the reality that every person is shaping someone else’s life in some way.

That means the question is not whether you are influencing others; you are! The question is whether your influence is actually grounded in truth, clarity, and maturity in Christ.

It helps to think about this in everyday life. A new believer trying to disciple someone else without ever having been discipled themselves. A person giving advice about prayer while rarely praying themselves. Someone encouraging others toward generosity while living with a closed-handed posture toward their own resources. None of these situations require malicious intent to become dangerous. They simply require a lack of clarity. And over time, unclear leadership tends to lead people into confusion rather than growth.

That’s why Jesus asks, “Will they not both fall into a pit?” The danger is not just personal; it’s multiplied! When someone who cannot see clearly leads another who also cannot see clearly, the result is shared misdirection. Influence always moves in a direction, and when that direction is off, the consequences don’t stay isolated.

But Jesus doesn’t stop with warning. He also reframes what growth actually looks like. “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone, when he is fully trained, will be like his teacher.” In other words, formation always leads to resemblance. You become like what you consistently learn from, listen to, and follow. That’s true in everyday life. Athletes begin to mirror their coaches. Students begin to think like the professors they learn from most. Even friendships slowly shape tone, habits, and perspective. Over time, imitation happens almost without noticing it. Jesus is saying the same is true spiritually: what you are close to is what you will begin to look like. Discipleship is not just about knowing more; it’s about becoming like the One you are following. And because that is true, who you follow matters deeply.

At the same time, Jesus is not telling people to step back from influence until they feel “fully ready.” That would leave everyone disqualified forever. Instead, He is calling for humility in how we see ourselves. We are always both learners and influencers at the same time. We are being shaped, and we are shaping others. The key is not perfection; it’s direction.

We can’t excuse ourselves from obedience just because we feel immature in certain areas. If you feel like you are not exactly where you want to be in your prayer life, that doesn’t mean you stop praying or stop praying with others. If you haven’t memorized Scripture before, that doesn’t mean you avoid sitting down with a friend and memorizing a passage together. Growth doesn’t require arrival; it requires willingness. Waiting until you feel “ready enough” often becomes a way of delaying obedience rather than pursuing maturity.

That means we should take seriously who we are allowing to shape us. Not every voice deserves equal weight. Not every example is worth imitating. If what you are following is unclear, unstable, or disconnected from Christ, it will eventually show up in the way you live and lead others.

But it also means we don’t have to withdraw in fear. Even as we are still growing, God can use us. We can encourage someone, point them toward truth, and walk with others in faith while still learning ourselves. The difference is humility. It takes knowing we are not the source, but we are being formed by the true Teacher.

So this passage leaves us with both a warning and an invitation. Be careful who you are following closely. Be honest about what is actually shaping you. And be aware that your life is already influencing someone else, whether you realize it or not.

Have you ever felt like you’ve given too much? Maybe it’s been toward someone walking through grief, and you’ve tried to show up consistently (texting, checking in, being present) but over time you start wondering, “Is this too much? Am I overextending myself?” That feeling is familiar to anyone who has tried to love people well. There’s a point where generosity starts to feel like depletion, where you begin to question whether what you’re giving will ever come back to you.

There’s a moment I’ve seen play out more than once in ministry. A volunteer pours themselves into serving others. They show up early, stay late, and quietly carry emotional weight that most people never notice. After a stretch of especially hard weeks, they finally say something like, “I just feel like I’m giving and giving, and I don’t know if there’s anything left.” It’s not bitterness… it’s exhaustion. But underneath it is a deeper question we all wrestle with: does what I give actually matter, or am I just running on empty?

That’s where Luke 6:38 speaks so directly. Jesus is not describing a transactional formula where we give to get in a mechanical way. He is describing the character of God’s kingdom. In God’s economy, generosity is never wasted. It is never unnoticed. It is never the final word. What feels like loss in the moment is not loss in the hands of God.

To understand what Jesus is saying, it helps to picture the imagery He uses. In the ancient world, when someone bought grain, the seller would scoop it into a container. A dishonest seller might fill it loosely, leaving gaps and air pockets so the buyer received less than expected. But a generous seller would press the grain down, shake it together, and pour more in until it overflowed. Jesus uses that picture to say something about how God responds to those who live open-handedly. God does not respond with minimal return or reluctant measure. His generosity is overflowing, abundant, and beyond what we expect.

That doesn’t mean we always see the return immediately, or even in the way we expect. Sometimes the “return” is strength in the moment you thought you had nothing left. Sometimes it is fruit in someone else’s life years later that you never connected back to your small act of faithfulness. And sometimes it is only fully revealed in eternity, when we finally see what God did with what we thought was insignificant.

This is where Jesus is reshaping how we think about giving altogether. We tend to believe there’s a limit to our capacity. If we give too much, we will eventually run dry. But Jesus is inviting us to see that generosity in His kingdom is not about depletion, it’s about trust. We are not the source; we are recipients who pass along what we’ve received. The question is not whether we have enough in ourselves, but whether we trust the One who promises to provide what we need.

That connects deeply with the parable of the talents in Matthew 25:14-30. Jesus tells a story about a master who entrusts different amounts to his servants before leaving. One receives five, another two, another one. The focus is not on comparison, but on stewardship. When the master returns, he rewards faithfulness, not equal outcomes. The point is simple but challenging: God is not asking you to give what you do not have. He is asking you to be faithful with what He has already placed in your hands.

So your time is not accidental. Your relationships are not random. Your opportunities are not insignificant. The people around you are not there by coincidence. God has entrusted you with your life on purpose, and Luke 6:38 reframes how we see every act of giving within it. Nothing offered in obedience is ever wasted in the kingdom of God.

So the real question is not, “Am I giving too much?” The deeper question is, “Who am I trusting as I give?” Because Luke 6:38 doesn’t just promise return… it reveals the heart of God. A God who sees, who measures differently than we do, and who gives in ways that are pressed down, shaken together, and running over. So where have you been holding back due to a lack of trust in God and His ability to be a generous Father.

Two Sundays ago, we ended with what we often call the Golden Rule: “Treat others the way you want to be treated.” That sounds simple (and is absolutely biblical), but it is also one of the hardest commands to actually live out. It’s easy to say when relationships are smooth and people are easy to love. But when someone is difficult, when someone has hurt you, embarrassed you, disappointed you, or when you genuinely feel like they deserve judgment, that’s when this teaching becomes real. That’s also when our hearts are exposed. Because in those moments, we aren’t just dealing with another person; we’re dealing with whether we truly trust God and His sovereignty. If God is sovereign, that means He is over all things. Nothing escapes His attention, nothing slips through His hands, and no injustice goes unnoticed by Him. And if that’s true, then we don’t have to live like we’re responsible for being everyone’s judge.

That’s exactly what Jesus confronts in Luke 6:37. This verse is famous, but it’s also often misused. Many people quote it as if Jesus is saying Christians should never have opinions, never call out sin, never challenge anyone, and never have hard conversations. But that can’t be what Jesus means because Jesus Himself confronted sin and hypocrisy constantly. He overturned tables in the temple, rebuked religious leaders, corrected His disciples, and spoke truth directly to people who were living in rebellion against God. Jesus is not calling us to silence or passivity. He is calling us to examine our posture. The issue is not whether we can recognize what is right and wrong. The issue is whether we are trying to take God’s seat.

There is a difference between discernment and judgment, and an even bigger difference between correction and condemnation. Discernment is seeing clearly what aligns with God’s Word. Correction is loving someone enough to speak truth with humility. Condemnation, however, is when we go beyond someone’s actions and begin to assign them a final verdict. Condemnation says, “This is who you are,” not just, “This is what you did.” Condemnation doesn’t aim for restoration; it aims for destruction. Condemnation doesn’t come from love. It comes from pride. It assumes the worst, believes the worst, and expects the worst. And if we’re honest, condemnation often feels justified. It feels like protection. It feels like we’re standing for truth. But in reality, condemnation is often just a way of feeding bitterness while pretending we’re being righteous.

A lot of us do this without even realizing it. We build a courtroom in our minds. Someone says something that rubs us the wrong way, someone doesn’t respond the way we expected, someone makes a decision we disagree with, and immediately we start collecting evidence. We replay conversations. We interpret tone. We assume motives. We add up all the little moments, and we form a conclusion. We might never say it out loud, but in our hearts we’ve already handed down a sentence. And what makes it even more dangerous is that we usually judge others by their actions while judging ourselves by our intentions. We want people to consider our stress, our story, our reasons, and our growth. But we interpret others through the harshest lens possible. That’s why Jesus’ words are so direct: “Judge not.” Not because wrong doesn’t exist, but because we are not qualified to sit on the throne of final authority.

Then Jesus adds another phrase: “Condemn not.” This is where the verse becomes even more personal. Because it’s one thing to notice someone’s sin. It’s another thing to secretly want them to fail, to be exposed, or to get what they deserve. Condemnation is not just an opinion; it’s a posture of the heart that says, “I’m glad I’m not like you.” Condemnation assumes that grace is for me but not for them. It forgets that the same God who sees their flaws also sees mine. It forgets that we are not saved because we were better, but because God was merciful.

And then Jesus finishes with a command that is both beautiful and challenging: “Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” Forgiveness is not pretending someone didn’t hurt you. Forgiveness is not saying what they did was okay. Forgiveness is choosing to release the right to repay. It is refusing to let someone else’s sin turn your heart into a prison. Forgiveness is hard because it feels like losing. It feels like letting them off the hook. But the truth is, forgiveness doesn’t let them off the hook; it places them in God’s hands. And if God is truly sovereign, then that is the safest place they could be. Forgiveness is not weakness. It is faith. It is trusting that God can judge rightly, that God can handle what you can’t, and that God’s justice will never fail.

Here’s the hard question for you to consider today. Who is someone you’ve been judging lately? Maybe not out loud, but in your heart. Who is someone you’ve already labeled, already written off, already decided you’re done with? And if God treated you the way you’ve been treating them, what would that mean for you? Jesus isn’t asking you to ignore sin, but He is asking you to remove pride. He isn’t asking you to pretend people are perfect, but He is asking you to remember that you aren’t either. Because the gospel doesn’t just change where we spend eternity; it changes how we treat the people around us today. The question is simple, but it cuts deep: Where do you need to stop condemning and start forgiving?