I didn't like it twenty years ago, and I still don't like it today. It's not a matter of fairness; I have no doubt that they are trying to be fair. But like gymnastics or figure skating, judging diving is by its very nature subjective. The tightness of the tuck, the snap of the pike, the cleanness of entry into the water; are the diver's feet together, toes pointed? These, and many more details are the nuts and bolts that make up the numbers on the judges' scorecards. When our kids were swimming, I took the training course for judges and attended enough meets to have developed a pretty good sense of what the scores would be unless the judging were sporadic and arbitrary. I was tutored under Shirley Smith, a daunting experience in itself. Shirley had judged Olympic meets; there was no one who knew more about judging swimming than Shirley. She brooked no nonsense and could be scathing in her criticism of an official who didn't know their job. Just being a bystander to a few of her diatribes was enough to make me tremble. Being on the receiving end of one was an experience I was fortunate to dodge. But I learned. And got to the point where I could often match the judges point for point.
The final outcome of the meet was never in jeopardy, but at times watching the scoring was painful for me. Which leads me to my gratitude for tonight. The day is coming when I will stand before the living God who judges fairly and knows every detail, every extenuating circumstance of my life. He will miss nothing, make no mistakes. The bad news is, there is no way I could stand before that bar. I would stand condemned; guilty. The good news is that the God who judges me is the God who loves me in spite of my guilt. Jesus received the judgment of God in my place and set me free. The God who judges righteously also forgives freely. And because of that, I am free. And thankful.
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