A Lesson On Hypocrisy
The other day, I found myself at one of my favorite coffee shops, my little oasis on a day off. I had a latte in hand, a stack of books, my Bible, and a journal. I was soaking it all in, enjoying the chance to study, set goals, and just have some good old-fashioned me time. Everything felt perfect. No Monday headache, no looming deadlines—just a productive, peaceful morning.
I found a spot at a big community table, one that seats about four people, though at that moment, only one other person was there. A guy was sitting on the back left corner of the table with his backpack and books, looking deep into whatever he was studying. He had that “student in an advanced academic program” vibe, serious and absorbed. But there was plenty of room for both of us, so I sat diagonally across from him and got to work.
As I started writing down some goals and thoughts, I was in a rhythm, a nice creative flow. And then, out of nowhere, I heard him say, “Excuse me.” I looked up, surprised. He seemed genuinely agitated and said, “Can you please stop writing so hard? You’re shaking the table.”
Now, I’ll be honest with you—this was not my most gracious moment. I paused, stared at him for a solid four seconds, and said, “Sure, I can do that,” probably more sternly than I meant to. But he had my attention now. As a lefty, my writing style is kind of intense, and yes, maybe I was “writing hard.” So, I tried to adjust, writing lightly, almost cautiously, to avoid any further table shaking.
But as I got back into my writing, I started noticing something funny. Now he was the one shaking the table. I looked up and realized that he, too, was “writing hard.” When we were both writing, the table movement was hardly noticeable, but the second one of us stopped, the other person’s writing became more pronounced. I even considered saying something to him, pointing out how he was now shaking the table after he’d called me out. I was honestly tempted to give him a taste of his own medicine.
And then, something clicked for me in that moment. I paused and asked God, “What are you trying to show me right now?” And suddenly, the lesson was so clear. Here I was, ready to call out his “table-shaking,” even though I had been doing the exact same thing just a minute earlier. How easy it is to become frustrated with someone else’s actions when we’re not actively doing them ourselves. But the moment we’re doing them too, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
It reminded me of what Jesus said in Matthew 7:3-5:
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
That verse hit differently in this moment. It’s easy to call out the “speck” in someone else’s eye when we’re ignoring the “plank” in our own. And here’s the thing—my reaction, my judgment, my frustration with him was just as hypocritical as his initial complaint about me.
How often do we hold others to standards we don’t fully meet ourselves? Maybe we’re quick to judge someone for being too critical, yet a moment later, we’re engaging in the same behavior. Or we get annoyed when someone doesn’t follow through, though we know we’ve dropped the ball ourselves more times than we’d like to admit.
This little coffee shop moment was like a mirror, showing me just how quick I am to slip into judgment without a second thought. And it wasn’t even about anything huge—just writing at a coffee shop. But the heart of the matter was about my response, my tendency to judge, and my need for more humility and grace.
It’s humbling, isn’t it? To realize how easily we can fall into hypocrisy, even over small things. But maybe that’s why Jesus spent so much time talking about judging others and why he urged us to check our own hearts first. It’s not always easy to see ourselves clearly; sometimes it takes a nudge, a little discomfort, or a tiny shake of the table to make us pause and reflect.
What if we approached life with a little more humility? What if we took those moments that irritate us and asked God, “What are you trying to show me here?” Chances are, we’d start to notice our own shortcomings and grow a little more compassionate and understanding toward others. After all, we’re all in this messy, human journey together.
So next time you find yourself annoyed, maybe even with something small, stop and ask yourself if you might be doing the same thing in a different way. Give yourself that mirror moment. Let God use it to show you where you can grow. And remember, sometimes the most profound lessons come from the most ordinary moments. Who knew that shaking the table could teach me so much about shaking off my own hypocrisy?