Have you ever walked into a room and instantly felt important for no logical reason? Have you ever thought, “I do not belong here… but I’m going to act like I absolutely do”? Have you ever judged someone too quickly, only to later realize you were missing the entire story?
That was me this week. All of it. On a red carpet. At a movie premiere. And somehow, God managed to teach me a life lesson through a scary movie, which honestly feels very on brand for my life.
I went to The Housemaid premiere at the Chinese Theatre, and just pulling up already felt surreal. That place has energy. It makes you feel like history matters and appearances matter and suddenly you stand up straighter even if your life is held together by dry shampoo and prayer.
The movie title was displayed everywhere in these big, bold, elegant setups for celebrities and VIP fans to pose next to. It was polished. Dramatic. Beautiful. The kind of display that makes you want to pose like you were personally involved in the film, even if you were just invited and smiling your way through it.
Celebrities walked the red carpet in the most stunning dresses. Everyone looked flawless. Hair done. Makeup perfect. Dresses that screamed confidence and money and a stylist who knows what they’re doing. I stood there admiring each celebrity that passed by, taking as many photos as I could, because let’s be honest, if you’re on a red carpet and you don’t take photos, did you even go?
Being on the red carpet always makes me feel VIP. Not in an ego way. In a gratitude way. In a “how did I end up here?” kind of way. Because I know my story. I know where I come from. I know how many wrong turns I’ve taken in life. And every time I find myself in rooms like that, I am very aware that none of it is because I figured life out.
Every opportunity I have comes from the Lord. Period. I didn’t scheme my way into this. I didn’t manipulate doors open. Grace carried me here. And standing there among celebrities reminded me that God will put you in rooms you never qualified for just to show you what His favor looks like.
Eventually, I made my way into the theater with my cold water in my hand like it was emotional support hydration. I don’t like scary movies. I do not enjoy being startled for fun. I don’t like anxiety as entertainment. I prefer my heart rate elevated from laughter, not fear. So walking into a suspense thriller already felt like I was stepping out in faith.
But this movie was different.
From the very beginning, I was captivated. The story pulls you in quietly. The wife is painted as unstable. The crazy one. The jealous one. The problem. Meanwhile, the housemaid appears innocent, sweet, vulnerable. And without even realizing it, I did exactly what the movie wanted me to do. I picked sides. I judged fast. I assumed I knew what was happening.
And then the story unfolded.
And then it twisted.
And then everything I thought I knew flipped upside down.
I won’t spoil it because I’m not evil, but I will say this. Amanda Seyfried absolutely blew me away. Her performance was powerful, layered, and emotionally complex. She played a character that forces you to confront how easily we label women, how quickly we dismiss emotion as instability, and how wrong we can be when we don’t know the full story.
I walked out of that theater stunned. Not just because the movie was good, but because it exposed how quickly I judge without realizing it. How easily I assume I understand someone based on one version of a story.
That’s when the lesson hit me.
Every person who seems twisted has a story.
Every person who looks dramatic, angry, defensive, or difficult is usually carrying pain you cannot see. People don’t wake up one day and decide to be unbearable for fun. Hurt people are responding to hurt. Trauma doesn’t always look quiet. Sometimes it looks messy. Loud. Reactive.
It is so easy to label people. Crazy. Toxic. Bitter. Problematic. Difficult. We love quick categories because they help us feel safe and superior at the same time. But once you actually hear someone’s side of the story, once you understand what they’ve walked through, compassion suddenly makes sense.
And compassion isn’t comfortable. It humbles you. It forces you to admit you didn’t have all the information. It makes you realize how often you judge people by a moment instead of a lifetime.
Let’s be honest. When someone is being an asshole, our first instinct is not empathy. It’s annoyance. We think, “What is wrong with them?” We rarely think, “What happened to them?”
But most of the time, people aren’t acting out because they’re evil. They’re acting out because they’re hurting. Because they’re afraid. Because they’re unresolved. Because they’re carrying wounds they don’t know how to heal.
That doesn’t excuse bad behavior, but it explains it. And explanation opens the door to compassion.
Jesus understood this better than anyone. He never denied sin, but He also never reduced people to it. He saw the woman before the label. The heart before the behavior. The pain before the reaction. And He loved people right where they were, not where society thought they should be.
That’s the call for all of us.
As I walked out of the Chinese Theatre that night, the red carpet energy fading and reality settling back in, I felt grateful. Grateful for the experience, grateful for the reminder, grateful for the lesson I didn’t expect to learn from a scary movie.
I was reminded that elegance on the outside doesn’t mean peace on the inside. That chaos often hides behind beauty. That villains are rarely born. They are shaped.
The movie ended, but the lesson stayed with me.
We all want grace when we mess up. We all want understanding when we’re misunderstood. We all want compassion when we’re at our worst. The challenge is learning to give that same grace to others.
Before you judge someone, pause. Before you label someone, listen. Before you write someone off, remember you don’t know the whole story.
Be the kind of person who chooses compassion over condemnation. Curiosity over criticism. Love over judgment.
Because one day, you might be the person someone misunderstands. And grace is a lot easier to receive when you’ve already learned how to give it.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!