Joel Osteen - Be a Safe Place
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I want to talk to you today about Being a Safe Place. We live in a culture where there’s so much judgment; people are quick to assume the worst without really knowing the facts—just a rumor, gossip, or something they heard on social media—it must be true. So, they start throwing stones, trying to shame and discredit. And if we do make a mistake—and we all do—there’s zero tolerance. We’re going to cancel you; you should have known better. Their goal is to expose, blow things out of proportion, and make sure you get what you deserve. But the scripture says the mercy you show others is the mercy you will receive.
If you’re harsh and critical, and you don’t give people grace to be human, then when you make a mistake, people will be harsh and critical with you. It’s easy to find fault and kick people when they’re down; can you believe they did this? But we’re not called to throw rocks; we’re called to lift the fallen, restore the broken, and heal the hurting. They don’t need more judgment; they have enough people beating them down. They need someone who will pour healing oil on them, someone who will help love them back into wholeness. You’re never more like God than when you’re helping people in need, showing mercy when they’ve failed, and lifting them up when others are pushing them down.
I’ve never seen a day with so much joy over someone falling. People jump on the bandwagon, spreading their good news about their wrongdoings. «They messed up! They got caught! I told you they were phonies!» But you have to remember this: but for the grace of God, that could be you. «Well, he cheated. He lied, and her past finally caught up with her.» Before you join the mob and start throwing stones, before you look down in shame and judgment, it’s much better to pause and say, «Lord, thank you for what you kept me from. Thank you for your grace helping me stay on the right path.»
If you walk in humility and are generous with your mercy, God will keep you on the best path. But when we get judgmental, saying they knew better and they’re getting what they deserve, we open ourselves up to be in their same shoes. If we don’t humble ourselves, the scripture says God will humble us. It’s much better if you do it than for God to do it. Learn to live as a healer, as a restorer—not looking for opportunities to condemn, but looking for ways to lift people. There’s enough judgment in the world, enough criticism. Zero tolerance: «You messed up, I’m going to expose you.» Where are the healers? Where are the people who will cover faults, show mercy for mistakes, and have compassion despite failures?
This is not excusing their behavior or covering sin; I’m talking about loving them back into wholeness, so when they come to you, they know they won’t be judged or looked down on. You’re a safe place; you’re full of mercy. Your heart of compassion is open; you don’t have stones of judgment or stones of condemnation. You have healing oil to pour on forgiveness, understanding that will help them get back on their feet. In the Old Testament, there was something called a city of refuge. They lived under a law that said if you killed someone, it was an eye for an eye; you would be killed. The Israelites lived in 48 cities throughout the land of Canaan. God told Joshua to set up six cities to be known as cities of refuge.
If you accidentally took someone’s life, if you made it to the city of refuge, you would be spared. Maybe you were working on your land, and your axe head flew off and killed someone, or your animal got loose and harmed a person. Normally, there would be no questions: you made a mistake, it’s your fault; you’re going to get what you deserve. But under this new law, if you could just get to one of those cities of refuge, if you could make it to that safe place, the people would take you in, protect you, and keep you from harm when the avenger came looking for you to pay you back. These people would step up for you; they would cover you and look after you. Even though it was your fault and you deserved judgment, as long as you were in the city of refuge, you were okay.I can see people who made mistakes, caused an accident—it was urgent; they had to get to that city as quickly as possible, riding their horses, worried, taking shortcuts—this was life or death.
The avenger was coming; there was a family member, a brother, an uncle who was looking for justice. They had every right to take his life—an eye for an eye—unless he could get to the city of refuge, then he’d be safe. This is a picture of what happened to all of us. We were born into sin; we’ve made mistakes and fallen short of the glory of God. We deserved judgment; the avenger was coming. But Jesus came as our refuge; he created a safe place despite our failures and shortcomings. If we come to him, we don’t receive the judgment we deserve; we made it to the city of refuge. David said this in Psalms: «God is my refuge, a strong tower that we can run to and be safe.» Because of what Jesus has done, if you’ll come to him, you’re in a safe place. There’s forgiveness, there’s mercy, there are new beginnings, and there is beauty for ashes.
Now, here’s the key: Jesus said in Matthew, «Freely you have received, now freely give.» You’ve received all this mercy; now freely give it away. Be generous with your mercy, generous with your forgiveness. It’s easy to become like society—judgmental, critical, with zero tolerance. You don’t deserve it; no! God has called you to be a safe place, a person of refuge. When people come to you, they don’t get judgment; you don’t write them off because of mistakes, spread rumors, or push them down. You’re a healer; you’re a restorer. They come to you because they know they can trust you; you’re a person of honor. You protect their reputation, shield them from lies and hate, and stand up for them. You cover their faults; you love them past guilt and shame. You help them understand that they’re forgiven, that there’s mercy for their mistakes.
How much better would our world be if we were all a safe place—not quick to judge, or quick to condemn? No; be a part of the solution, not the problem. Be a healer, not a condemner. Be a safe place—compassionate, understanding, making allowances for people’s weaknesses. Lakewood turns 66 years old today. It was started by my parents on Mother’s Day, 1959. One reason I believe we’re still here is that we’ve always been a safe place where anyone is welcome—any walk of life, any background—no matter what you’ve done or where you are. You’re not going to be judged; you’re not going to be condemned. «Oh man, you’re not worthy; don’t come back until you get it all together.»
This is a place of refuge; we’re going to tell you God’s mercy is bigger than your mistakes, that you’re forgiven, you’re redeemed, you’re valuable, and you’re made in the image of Almighty God. You still have a purpose and destiny to fulfill. My father never threw rocks; he never pushed people down, never wrote anyone off. One reason is he had made mistakes, he’d gone through failures, and he felt the sting of rejection and being pushed out. He was raised in poverty and defeat; he experienced great mercy, great love, and great forgiveness—and he freely gave that away. He was always for the underdog. One of his greatest joys was lifting the fallen, restoring the broken, and making people feel loved, valuable, and wanted—no matter what they had been through. We became known as an oasis of love—a place where you could find a new beginning. We’ve seen it happen over and over again.
I remember a young man; he was in an outlaw motorcycle gang known for drugs, crime, and violence, and he was always in and out of jail and trouble. But he had a mother at home who was praying for him—a mother who wouldn’t give up. Night and day, she would call out to God, declaring his protection and mercy over her son. One morning, he got up, looked in the mirror, and saw a dead man staring back at him. He was so strung out and depressed that he took a whole bottle of pills, trying to end his life. For some reason, those pills didn’t have any effect on him. Why is that? God hears the prayers of a concerned mother. When someone stands in the gap for you, the enemy cannot take you out before your time. He turned on the television, and there was my father talking about the goodness of God.
A friend called out of the blue and said, «You need to go to church today.» He was so taken aback—still high on drugs—that he kind of laughed and said, «No church would ever accept me.» He had long hair, tattoos, skulls; you know, he looked very rough. The friend said, «Yes, they will; I know a place. Go to Lakewood; they won’t judge you; they’ll help you get free.» He got on his motorcycle, drove to Lakewood, sat in the very back of that service, and felt chains breaking off of him. Afterwards, he went back to his motorcycle in the gravel parking lot, got down on his knees, and gave his life to Christ.
Today, our friend Ben Priest is an amazing pastor and an incredible man of God, helping so many get back on course. This is what happens when you’re a safe place; you don’t condemn or find fault. «They’re getting what they deserve.» «Joel, why’d you get in that gang in the first place? Why did you make those poor choices?» We’re not the judge; we’re not the jury; we’re the healers. We’re the restorers. We’re a place of refuge. I want to live my life in such a way that when people make mistakes, when they fail, they think, «If I can just get to Joel, I know he’ll help me; he won’t condemn me. If I can just get to Robert, I know he’ll show mercy; I know he’ll understand. If I can just get to Maria, she’s trustworthy; she’s honorable; she’ll pray for me without making me feel ashamed.»
God is looking for people who will be a safe place because so many around us are hurting, dealing with things we know nothing about. We wonder why they’re not friendly, and why they don’t do more at the office, and why do they still have these addictions. If we walked in their shoes, we’d understand they’re carrying heavy burdens that we can’t see. Maybe it’s a child that’s breaking their heart, or they’re dealing with mental issues, or they’ve been through hurts and injustices. There’s a reason they’re not up to par. God has put them in our path not so we can be critical and kick them when they’re down. No; be a safe place; be a healer. Pour oil on the wounds and help them get back on their feet.
A few weeks ago, a man came up to me after the service. He was dressed in a suit and looked very nice. He said, «Joel, that was a freaking good message today; it really helped me.» But he didn’t use the word «freaking»; he used the other word. I’ve never had anyone compliment me that way, but the fact is, I wasn’t offended. I thought it was a good message too; I just didn’t use that word. But I realized this was all new to him. He wasn’t raised in church like me. He was in his 50s, and he told me he hadn’t been to church since he was 7 years old. I was glad that he felt comfortable coming here, that he knew this was a safe place, that we weren’t going to condemn him, judge him, or tell him all his faults.
Here’s what I’ve learned: everyone is on a journey; where they are is not where they’re going to end up. Will you have the mercy, the grace, the understanding to love them while they’re changing? To be a safe place where they feel comfortable coming to you because they know you’re not going to throw rocks? You’re not going to join the mob and push them down, cancel them because they had a failure. You’re going to be a healer, a restorer. John chapter 8: Jesus was teaching people in the synagogue, and many had gathered there intently listening.
All of a sudden, the religious leaders came bursting in, dragging this woman caught in the act of adultery. They threw her down right in the middle of the people. They could have dealt with this privately; they could have waited till the session was over and taken her to a back room. But some people want to publicly shame you instead of covering their faults. Instead of helping you get back on the right course, they’ll expose your faults, call a few friends, and stir up more gossip. It’s interesting that the religious leaders were the ones who made this big scene; they should have been the ones with the mercy, the ones who should have been a safe place.
They didn’t care about the woman; they had an agenda and were trying to trap Jesus. The first thing is, «Where is the man?» Talking about injustice—they didn’t drag him in. They said to Jesus, «The law says to stone her; what do you say we should do?» Jesus had been up there talking the whole time, but now he went silent. He didn’t say a word. When people make mistakes, when they have a failure, one of the best things we can do is go silent. Zip it up; don’t talk about them. Don’t call your neighbor and say, «Did you hear who they dragged in today?» Be a safe place; be a person of honor. This lady was surrounded by a mob, and they were all ready to stone her. And really, that’s the society we live in today: a mob culture. Who are we going to cancel? Who are we going to jump on?
And discrediting and humiliating others can be done anonymously on social media today. You don’t even have to put your name; just add to the hurt, the shame, and the guilt. Nobody will know. Here’s the catch: what you sow, you will reap. If you sow judgment and are harsh, if someone makes a mistake, let them have it—you’re going to receive judgment when you make a mistake. People will blow it out of proportion and humiliate you, bringing disgrace. Life is too short to live that way. We’re all going to make mistakes; we’re all going to need mercy and forgiveness. Make sure you’re giving away what you want.
This lady was lying on the ground, her clothes torn; she was afraid and humiliated. The mob picked up their rocks, ready for judgment, just waiting for the go-ahead. Jesus was standing there, silent, still hadn’t said anything. Then He knelt down on the ground and began to draw in the dirt with His finger. The lady couldn’t get up, so Jesus went down to her. Jesus would rather be at the level of a condemned person than at the level of a person with a rock. When you stoop to help the fallen, the broken, and the guilty, you are where God is. But when you have a rock, judging and condemning, you are where the mob is. Where are you in this scene? Are you a rock thrower, or do you have compassion for the hurting?
Jesus finally said to them, «You who are without sin, throw the first stone.» He was saying, «If you have never made a mistake, never failed, never done something you’re not proud of, then go ahead.» The fact is, we’ve all needed mercy. We’ve all done something where, if God hadn’t covered us, we wouldn’t be where we are. The scripture says, «The men began to leave one by one, from the oldest to the youngest; they all put down their rocks and walked away.» Jesus said to the woman, «Where are your accusers? Hasn’t anyone accused you?» She said, «No man, Lord.» He said, «Neither do I; now go and sin no more.»
One thing this story should teach us is not to be rock throwers. When you’re throwing rocks, accusations, and judgment, you’re on the wrong side. But, Joel, they’re guilty; they deserve it. Only the guilty need mercy. Paul said in Galatians, «If someone is caught in sin, you who are spiritual should gently restore them.» Like this lady, they’re caught. It doesn’t say, expose them, put it on Facebook, or make sure they feel guilty. No! We’re not the judges; put down those rocks. Our job is to gently restore—to be a safe place and help them get back on their feet.
See, in the Old Testament, according to the law, this woman should have been stoned. But in the New Testament, we are told to gently restore. The religious leaders had their rocks ready to carry out this law. Jesus said, in effect, «This is a new day; no more stoning for sins. There’s mercy for your sins.» Now my question is: Are you living under the Old Testament or the New Testament? Are you trying to condemn, expose, and cancel, or are you gently restoring, covering, and healing?
Years ago, there was a minister who had a failure in his marriage, and it became a very public ordeal—a big controversy in the press that lasted for months. At one point, another well-known minister criticized him, saying he was a disgrace and should be disqualified from ever serving in ministry again—so hard and condemning. He picked up rocks, throwing stone after stone, making sure he would get knocked down. That’s what happened; the other minister faded away. But when you judge something harshly, you end up letting people have it. Then what you’re judging can infect you. That’s why it’s so important to keep your heart of compassion open. When I’m tempted to be judgmental and think they’re getting what they deserve, I always come back to that thought: but for the grace of God, that could be me. Instead of criticizing and adding fuel to the fire, I’m going to let them know that I’m praying for them, that I believe in them, and that God knows how to restore.
I’m not going to live under the Old Testament, saying we’ve got to stone them. I’m putting down my rocks; no stones are coming from me. I’m going to live in the New Testament. I’m in the healing business—lifting the fallen, restoring the broken, showing mercy to the guilty. And that minister who was so harsh? A few years later, he was involved in an even bigger controversy and had to step down from the ministry. When you judge things harshly, you don’t give people any room to be human; that spirit can affect you.
You know what keeps you free? Mercy. Be a safe place when you’re helping those who have fallen; that’s the heart of God. The mob will expose, and the crowd will throw rocks. Don’t fall into that trap. I mean, half the things we hear today aren’t even true. We make judgments based on social media and what people want to discredit. Some people make a living trying to expose and mischaracterize. That’s the mob. Joining them will only bring you harm. Get on God’s side, put those rocks down, and be a safe place.
I heard a story about a college student named Bill, known on campus for his wild hair and attire. He wore an old t-shirt, blue jeans, and sandals like a hippie from the '70s. He was always experimenting with drugs and smoking weed. He was a good student, but he was far out there. One day, he attended a campus ministry event, felt something he had never felt before, and decided to give his life to Christ. They encouraged him to find a good church, and there was one right across the street from the campus—a very formal and prestigious church where everyone dressed in their finest clothes.
That Sunday, he arrived a few minutes late and couldn’t find a seat; the small auditorium was packed. As the minister was speaking, Bill began to walk slowly down the center aisle in his t-shirt, blue jeans, and flip-flops, trying to find a seat. Everyone was watching intently. He got all the way to the front row, and there were still no seats, so he sat down on the floor right in the center of the altar. You could hear the gasps in the crowd; they had never seen anything like this.
Suddenly, the head deacon got up from the back of the auditorium and started walking toward Bill. He was in his 80s, a very distinguished man with silver hair, glasses, and impeccably dressed. He walked slowly down the aisle with his cane, and there was such a commotion that the minister stopped his sermon to wait for the man to reach the front. Everyone was thinking, «You can’t blame him for wanting to correct the situation and remove this young man.»
But when he finally reached Bill, he laid down his cane and, with great difficulty, lowered himself to the floor and sat next to Bill so he wouldn’t be alone. The place erupted in applause. The minister said, «The sermon I preached today you’ll forget in a week or two, but the sermon you just witnessed will be remembered for a lifetime.»
Be a safe place. Look at people through eyes of compassion, not judgment. You don’t know their story. We see what people do, but we don’t know why they do it. Some are dealing with things we’ve never had to face—carrying heavy loads, burdened by mistakes, trying to break generational baggage. Let’s be healers; let’s be lifters. Jesus said, «You are the light of the world, a city on a hill that cannot be hidden.» You are a city that cannot be hidden; you’re impacting people all around you. The question is, what kind of city are you?
I’m asking you to be a city of refuge, not a city of guilt, condemnation, or cancellation. Nobody wants to live in those cities. Make sure your city is full of mercy, compassion, and forgiveness. Be a person that gently restores and lifts the fallen. And I know we’re going to be tempted to condemn and find fault. Put the rocks down; we’re not the judges. We’re the healers; we’re the ones who love people back into wholeness. If you will be a safe place, I believe and declare there will always be mercy for you and your children in their time of need. God will cover you, protect you, restore you, and you will become all that He has created you to be in Jesus' name. And if you receive it, can you say amen? Amen. I receive it as well.