Come to the Table: Why Listening Matters More Than Judging

I’ve learned this: you can’t help someone heal if you don’t first understand their wound.

And you can’t understand it unless you’re willing to listen.

Not to respond. Not to correct. But to truly understand.

-Paige Johnston

One of the greatest needs in this world right now isn’t more opinions.

It’s more understanding.

In my ministry, I’ve sat across from people with stories that would break your heart if you really listened. Men and women labeled “convicted felons,” people our society writes off with one glance or one headline — and yet, when you hear their stories, you realize how much pain, fear, and desperation shaped their choices.

Some stole, not because they were evil or heartless, but because they were hungry. Literally. They were trying to eat. Trying to feed a child. Trying to survive.

Does that make the action right? No.

But it gives you the why. And sometimes, that why changes everything.

Giving people a chance to explain themselves isn’t about removing accountability — it’s about restoring context. It’s not a pass for wrongdoing. It’s a path to understanding.

Because when someone says, “I did that because I was scared,” or, “I didn’t see another way,” or, “I regret it every day,” that doesn’t erase the impact of their actions — but it does humanize them. It helps us see the full story instead of a single mistake.

And I think about those who chased the American dream — who crossed borders, overstayed visas, took jobs under the table. To some, these are criminal acts. To others, these are people with faces, families, and futures — doing the only thing they knew to give their children a better life.

Fear and desperation can lead people down roads they never thought they’d walk. And often, years later, they don’t even recognize the person they were in that moment. But if we never give them space to explain — to provide insight into what led them there — we risk turning judgment into injustice.

“Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” – James 1:19

The world doesn’t need more noise. It needs more tables — more places where people can come, speak, and be heard without immediately being labeled, dismissed, or condemned.

In ministry, I’ve learned this: you can’t help someone heal if you don’t first understand their wound.

And you can’t understand it unless you’re willing to listen.

Not to respond. Not to correct. But to truly understand.

And once we understand, we have to go a step further:

We can’t expect people to build something different — a new life, a new mindset, a new direction — if they’ve never been given the tools to do so.

How can someone build a house of stability when all they’ve ever known is survival? How can they form healthy relationships when their foundation was built on trauma and distrust?

That’s where we come in.

That’s where love becomes action.

We have to show them. Be patient. Teach. Love them fiercely. And yes, hold them accountable — but do it in the name of love, not shame.

Accountability without compassion just reinforces cycles of guilt. But accountability with compassion? That’s where transformation begins.

Because love doesn’t just correct — it builds. It equips. It walks alongside. It says, “You’re better than your worst day. And I’m here to help you become who you were always meant to be.”

And isn’t that what Jesus always did? He didn’t just call people out — He called them in. He didn’t just expose brokenness — He offered healing. He offered Himself.

So if you’re struggling to understand someone, or if you’ve written someone off based on their past — I challenge you:

Come to the table.

Ask questions. Listen with your heart. Make room for explanations, not to excuse sin, but to better understand the battle.

You might just discover that the people we fear or misunderstand the most are carrying the same longings we are:

To be seen.
To be heard.
To be loved.
To belong.
To build something better — if only someone will help hand them the tools.