Flip-Flopping Conclusions

It was the last Saturday night of the school year in Collegedale, Tenn. My roommate, Grace had invited me to an end-of-the year party at the Korean youth leader’s house. Of course, I went—friends free Korean food and a reason to not study for exams? Priceless. As I walked in the door of the youth leader’s house on that cloudy evening, there were already rows and rows of flip-flops radiating from the door like an eclectic fan. Carefully, I placed my brown flip-flops in an empty spot, hoping I’d remember where I’d put them. They were new, so they weren’t completely recognizable yet.

Several hours later, the party ended and a steady rain was beginning to fall outside. On my way out the door, I saw that the unthinkable had happened. My brown left flip-flop sat next to a black flip-flop. The right one was gone! I searched frantically through the quickly diminishing spread of footwear for my missing flip-flop, but all in vain. Obviously, someone had mixed them up and had taken my flip-flop instead of theirs! My supportive roommate, Grace, ran out in the rain, chasing down all the cars as they were leaving to ask them if their flip-flops matched. No luck. No one would admit to stealing my flip-flop and I had a sinking feeling that I’d never see it again. There was nothing left to do—everyone had left and I had two mismatched flip-flops. I decided to take the black flip-flop back to my apartment as collateral: it was a fancy brand, so whoever owned it would definitely want it back.

All the way back, I fumed indignantly about how dim-witted the flip-flop thief was. Couldn’t she tell the difference between black and brown? Couldn’t she feel the difference between the thin soles of my cheap $2 Walmart flip-flops and her fancy schmancy Rainbows? Back at my apartment, I told my tale of woe to Tanya, another housemate. I had just gotten to the part about the different flip-flops and showed them to her to prove how obviously different they were.

Tanya looked at them. “Wait a minute,” she said, “that’s my flip-flop.”

Sure enough, by the front door was a single black flip-flop and my missing brown one. Apparently, I had taken her flip-flop to the party, totally not noticing the difference. Whoops.

Perhaps it’s human trait to always transfer blame to others, to hunt down specks of sawdust in other people eyes to avoid the 2x4 sticking out of my own (Matt. 7:3-4). It’s a good reminder to not judge. More often than not, the judgment that I’d readily pass on others is one that applies to myself even more. Matthew 7:1-2 says, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” So, so true.

*In my defense, this incident happened on the nerve-wracking weekend before final exams and graduation. Obviously, I was extremely sleep-deprived and could not possibly be thinking clearly…

By Renee Cerovski
Photo: Grace and Renee at graduation.