I must admit that I really don’t understand the concept of Starbucks. A buddy of mine calls it “Fourbucks” because the prices are so high.

I remember the good old days when you walked into a diner and ordered a cup of coffee. The choices were simple back then. A nice lady named Thelma asked whether you wanted regular or decaf and poured you a cup.

I can count on one hand the number of times I have patronized Starbucks, and my first visit was the most memorable.

This happened many years ago, when I was in my forties. I was a well-dressed entrepreneur who probably walked into Starbucks looking as though I had everything figured out. But when it came to ordering coffee there, I was completely out of my element.

While standing in line to place my order, I heard the young woman ahead of me order an upside-down caramel macchiato. At that moment, I knew I was in over my head—and then so did the guy behind the counter when my turn came.

It went like this:

“I just want a hot cup of coffee.”

“Would you like a blonde, medium, or dark roast?”

“Just a regular black coffee.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the medium roast. What size, sir?”

“What sizes do you have?”

“Short, tall, grande, and venti.”

“I would like a medium, please.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a tall.”

Then the conversation got really tense and judgmental when he asked my name.

I responded:

“Coffee guy, why do you need to know my name?”

He responded somewhat curtly:

“I am not just a coffee guy. I am a professionally trained barista, and I need to know your name so that I can write it on the cup and call it out when your order is ready.”

Now, I was convinced that he had already sized me up as a stuffy, out-of-touch businessman—and I had already decided that I knew everything about this young man in his mid-twenties.

The fact that he wore more metal on the outside of his head—through his lips, nose, eyebrows, and ears—than Evel Knievel had pins and screws in his entire body told me that Mr. Barista probably still lived in Mommy and Daddy’s basement, where he listened to loud music all night.

And he confirmed my suspicions about the loud music when I replied:

“My name is Gabe.”

“Dave?”

“No, it’s Gabe.”

“Gay?”

My face grew tense, and I said rather loudly:

“Let’s just go with Fricking Frank!”

Five minutes later, I heard:

“Fricking Frank, your order is ready!”

I went to pick up my coffee and asked:

“Why does my cup have a cardboard skirt around it? Is that wrapping paper—did it cost me extra?”

“No, sir. That is what we call a java jacket. It protects your fingers from being burned.”

I walked out convinced that if Starbucks had existed before December 7, 1941, we would have lost World War II.

I am still not a Starbucks fan, but I hope I am now a little less judgmental. 🤷‍♂️

Since that first encounter with Mr. Barista, I have had a much more significant encounter. By the grace of God, I experienced a spiritual awakening to His presence. That awakening led me to the light of His Word, which I have now been reading and studying daily for more than ten years.

God’s Word has transformed my heart, although I remain very much a work in progress. I am not yet free from judgmental thoughts, but I am learning to recognize them more quickly—and to bring them before God before they become words, attitudes, or resentment.

That embarrassing encounter eventually became a lasting lesson about judging others—and about the difference between righteous discernment and self-righteous condemnation.

Are Christians Ever Supposed to Judge?

The Bible does not teach that all judgment is wrong.

In fact, we make judgments every day. If someone has repeatedly lied to us, it is reasonable to conclude that we should not rely upon that person’s word. If someone has repeatedly behaved dishonestly in business, wisdom tells us to proceed carefully.

Parents must judge what is safe for their children. Church leaders must sometimes confront serious sin. Christians are also instructed to distinguish truth from false teaching.

Jesus said:

“Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.”
—John 7:24

Therefore, the question is not simply, “Am I judging?” The better questions are:

What am I judging? Why am I judging it? And what evidence do I actually have?

There is a considerable difference between discerning someone’s conduct and declaring that we know the contents of that person’s heart.

I knew what the barista looked like, but I did not know him. I saw the metal in his face and, within seconds, invented his entire biography. I decided where he lived, what kind of music he enjoyed, how he spent his evenings, how he voted and probably what he believed in life.

That was not righteous judgment. That was prejudice dressed up as discernment.

Righteous judgment evaluates what can actually be seen and does so according to God’s standards. This requires us to recognize when compromise becomes sin without assuming that recognizing another person’s sin makes us morally superior.

Wrongful judgment goes beyond the evidence, assigns motives, assumes the worst, and places us above the person we are judging. Our impressions and feelings may seem convincing, but they must always be tested against God’s Word rather than mistaken for God’s will.

Jesus warned:

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged.”—Matthew 7:1–2

Jesus was not commanding us to abandon all moral discernment. Just a few verses later, He spoke about recognizing false prophets by their fruit. His warning was against hypocritical judgment—the kind that examines a speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the log in our own.

Before correcting someone else, I must first allow God to examine me.

Paul made the same point:

“Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things.”—Romans 2:1

Paul was addressing people who condemned the sins of others while excusing similar sin in themselves. They were correct that sin was wrong, but they were wrong to imagine that recognizing another person’s sin made them righteous before God.

Biblical judgment begins with humility because I stand before the same Judge and depend upon the same grace as the person I am evaluating.

When Judging Others Becomes Sin

Appearance may be one of the easiest places for judgment to hide. A woman can look another woman up and down and, within seconds, form conclusions about her character, priorities, marriage, finances, or need for attention. The judgment may never be spoken aloud, but the expression on her face can say plenty.

Judgment becomes sinful when:

• It is based upon someone’s appearance rather than known facts.

• It assumes motives that only God can know.

• It condemns others while excusing the same sin in ourselves.

• It takes pleasure in exposing another person’s failure.

• It is driven by irritation, resentment, superiority, or revenge.

• It pronounces someone spiritually hopeless rather than desiring restoration.

• It forgets how much mercy God has shown us.

Righteous discernment, on the other hand, is based upon truth. It recognizes harmful behavior without claiming to know everything about the person. It establishes wise boundaries when necessary. When correction is appropriate, it is offered gently and with the goal of restoration—not humiliation.

“Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness.”
—Galatians 6:1

Notice the purpose: restoration.

And notice the manner: gentleness.

What Our Judgments Cost Us

My interaction with the barista probably made both of us unhappy for several minutes. I am sure he was relieved to be finished with me, just as I was relieved to get my overpriced coffee and leave.

My judgment of him—and what I assumed was his judgment of me—stole my peace.

Unfair judgment hurts the person we judge, but it also damages something within us. It feeds pride, nurtures resentment, and interferes with our fellowship with God. It is difficult to point someone toward Christ while looking down upon them at the same time.

For all I know, that young man was working to put himself through night school. Perhaps he was helping his parents pay the bills. Perhaps he had endured a difficult childhood. Perhaps he was simply a hardworking young man trying to remain patient with an uptight, middle-aged customer who could run a business but could not understand why a medium coffee was called a tall.

I knew none of those things.

What would I do differently today?

I would be more patient. I would probably laugh at myself. I might even ask him how his day was going. If an opportunity arose naturally, I might tell him something about Jesus. At the very least, I could treat him in a way that would not make him less interested in meeting the Jesus I claim to follow.

And when I walked back to my car, I would pray for him—not because his piercings proved that something was wrong with him, but because I want every person to experience God’s grace, be filled with God’s light and enjoy His presence.

In Jesus’ parable, the Pharisee stood before God and thanked Him that he was not like the tax collector. The tax collector simply pleaded:

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”—Luke 18:13

Jesus said it was the tax collector—not the Pharisee—who went home justified.

That day in Starbucks, I thought I was the well dressed respectable man dealing with an obviously misguided young barista. Looking back, I may have been much closer to the Pharisee—confident that I had properly sized up the man standing before me while remaining blind to the pride growing within my own heart.

The barista may have gotten my name wrong.

But perhaps I was the one who got him wrong.

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