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15

Assuming the Best

Adam MacLaren

Monday, December 15

Job 1:1 (NIV)
In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.

Job 34:35–37 (NIV)
Job speaks without knowledge; his words lack insight. Oh, that Job might be tested to the utmost for answering like a wicked man! To his sin he adds rebellion; scornfully he claps his hands among us and multiplies his words against God.

A few months back I felt God show me something in Job 34 I hadn’t seen before. I was struck by how easily even sincere people can misread someone’s heart. Elihu, the younger man who steps into Job’s story after listening to all the arguments, clearly wanted to defend God’s justice and correct what he believed were Job’s errors, as you read in the Scripture above. His intentions were good. His theology was mostly right. But his judgment of Job’s heart was wrong.

Elihu accused Job of speaking without knowledge, of rebellion, and of arrogance. But Job wasn’t rebelling, he was grieving. He wasn’t scorning God, he was searching for Him through pain he didn’t understand. And that’s where Elihu missed it. He assumed Job’s words were defiance when they were actually desperation, because we know from Job 1 that he was blameless and upright.

That realization hit home for me. Because like Elihu, I can fall into the trap of assuming motives, of interpreting someone’s tone, actions, or words through my own lens rather than pausing to understand their story. I might think I’m defending truth or standing for what’s right, when in reality I’m missing the deeper ache behind someone’s struggle. I’ve also been on the receiving end of that at times.

Assuming the best about others doesn’t mean ignoring sin or avoiding truth, it means choosing humility. It’s remembering that only God sees the full picture of someone’s heart. My role isn’t to read it, it’s to love, to listen, and to extend grace even when I don’t fully understand.

As I sat with that passage, I was reminded of how Jesus models this perfectly. When others saw sinners, He saw sons and daughters. When the crowds saw failures, He saw faith. He never excused sin, but He always led with compassion. He listened before He corrected, and He met people in their pain before addressing their behavior. When He corrected, He most often did it in private, with gentleness and care, aiming for restoration rather than embarrassment.

This season, I want us all to be more like that, slower to assume, quicker to listen, and ready to believe the best about others. Because when I stop trying to read hearts, I make more room for God to work in mine.

Who might you be tempted to judge or “read” right now? How could you instead pause, listen, and choose to assume the best, allowing space for God’s understanding rather than your own?

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