Consequence

When I look back at my childhood, sometimes all I can think is“wow, was I dumb!” In more recent years, when I encounter an old friend or a memory more vibrant than the rest, I realize how silly, goofy, and ridiculous I was. It doesn’t bother me, but what does bother me is that nobody offered me correction. I had no one around to say “hey, you’re not worthless, but you made a bad call. You have an area you need to grow in. You have areas where you need to bite the bullet and start getting better at this.” Because there was no line between things I was good at and things I was bad at, everything fell into the category of “bad at.” 

“But you’re a Christian! You’ve been redeemed into the infinite worth of Christ!” You might feel the impulse to tell me. Stop it! Stop that right there! A Christian who’s bad at math is still bad at math. He’s not a worthless pile of crap, but he doesn’t have the skill set necessary to be a physicist. It’s just not in the cards for him. 

Merit. That’s what I’m talking about. My heart craves a taste of what I’ve earned. My spirit yearns for work and its paycheck. I want to know what I can and can’t do. I’m hungry for power, but not because I’m greedy or malicious, but because I want to know what I can achieve. I’m like a builder who never sees his finished houses, a mechanic who never sees his cars drive out of the shop. It’s only natural to want to see good results from our work, and I rarely see results that I can take pride in. 

Pride

There’s a word that we can dig into. Often, when we talk about pride, we talk about arrogance. We talk about feeling better than everyone else, having a sense of superiority and cockiness about us. But there’s a good type of pride. We also talk about things like taking pride in our work. I remember being a handyman and finishing a project. Whether it was a wall patch that turned out just right or a sink that got fixed and no longer leaks, there was always a joyful sigh of relief when a project was over. Not only because I had vanquished the frustrating beast I had been wrestling with for hours, but because I could see the work of my hands. It gave me a sense of accomplishment. In the long run, it slowly began to nurture a sense of competence. By the end of my handymanning days, I would regularly respond to problems with “of course, I got this!” I was relaxed because I knew my way around the space, had seen success and had been called out for my failures. 

These days, we are still allergic to failure. Failure will always sting, but we need to be able to point it out because it helps give our success its value. Like I said earlier, if we don’t separate success from failure, everything goes into one category. Then on the day when things don’t go our way, we assume the worst in ourselves. If we are either all good or all bad, why else did things go wrong but because we are all bad? Lately I have started learning to put my failures and shortcomings into a separate box so that I don’t see myself as a waste of space. I remind myself that although my social interactions are lacking to say the least, I’m one of the hardest workers around, and I’m really good at biting the bullet to do honest work. 

Nowadays we are scared to tell people they did something stupid, or are really bad in a certain area. We spout all sorts of nonsense, like how it could be considered bullying or it will damage our self-esteem. To them I say: I was rarely called out as a child and I’m struggling, where is that argument now? I believe we need the correction in order to truly thrive. The compliments that have impacted me the most have been from the people that could have just as easily insulted me. Your words lose impact if they aren’t genuine. If you are known as someone who offers compliments regardless of circumstance, those compliments will lose a certain oomph. 

Make no mistake, I’m not trying to say don’t give people compliments, and I’m not even trying to say we should be hard on each other for our mistakes. I’m saying we should be honest about our shortcomings and not lie about things we aren’t good at. I’ll be honest: I can be pretty loose-lipped. I used to get into arguments and raise hell as a kid and nobody called me out for it. I would run my mouth whenever I felt like it and I paid the price for it. Sure, people got annoyed, but I had no one to smack me upside the head and tell me to knock it off. I probably needed that a couple of times. Consequence is a harsh teacher and, unfortunately, I had full-time enrollment in her classes. Sometimes you need someone to correct you before life does. Sure, sometimes the advice you get is wrong, but the ability to take that advice without getting defensive is powerful indeed!. 

Since I’m only now learning this skill, I’m still really bad at it. Any time someone offers me anything even close to correction, my inner-wolf starts snarling. “Who are you to correct me? What do you know about this? Why should I listen to anything you say?” I ask, pulling out my machine gun of excuses, defenses and arrogant remarks. I started off this year with a nosedive into the book of proverbs. One of my main takeaways was the need to be correctable. To be wise, you have to first admit that you are foolish, and oh boy! Have I been foolish over the years! 

I suppose this is as good a time as any to apologize. I’ll admit, I had no shortage of  issues and personal stuff going on growing up. But, at the end of the day, I did things that were stupid. I hurt people and said mean things and did reckless stuff that hurt people. If you are one of those people that I hurt along my reckless path of destruction, do know I am truly sorry. I acknowledge that I did things that weren’t right, things that shouldn’t have happened to you by my hands. I was in the wrong, and in the wrong I sat for many a year. I have strived to do better in recent years, but I’ll never forget or deny that I got it wrong a lot growing up. 

If there’s anyone out there that I hurt over the years that wants to come chew me out, I welcome it. I know a few words on a page can’t make up for what I’ve done, but I can try admitting them face-to-face to see if that does any better. If you can’t forgive me, that’s fine. By this point, I’m no stranger to consequence. She’s an old friend and I’m fine catching up over a cup of coffee. Just know I won’t spend another day pretending I’m a saint. I have problems to fix, skills I lack, and areas I need to work on. I’ll get there one day, but for now I can at least acknowledge the path ahead of me. 

Whew! Wasn’t expecting to be here today! But I think it furthers my point: in admitting I was in the wrong, a distinction gets made between wrong and right. And although this does mean that punishment exists, it also means that redemption can exist. Nowadays, we try our best to deny the existence of a “right” and a “wrong.” We want to throw the baby out with the bathwater, and say that everything is good. We say things like “it’s ok to be fat,” and “it’s ok to be weak.” You can let people sugar coat things for you all you want, but eventually we have to face consequence, and consequence is a cold teacher. She’s a drill instructor that will set you straight with no if’s, and’s or but’s. It’s her way or the highway! Believe me, it’s far easier to put yourself through the gauntlet of discipline than to face her nasty backhand!

I had this conversation with God a lot for a while. For the longest time, I didn’t understand the hand of correction. I didn’t understand the voice that says “hey, your way sucks. Let me show you a better one.” I was a baby unwilling to give up his candy for a fresh-cut steak. I see this candy-baby mentality in a lot of people these days. It’s one of the things this fatherless generation has been lacking. We need to be safely, lovingly corrected. We don’t need to be left to the wolves to fend for ourselves. We don’t need a new religion, lifestyle, or sexuality. We need that magic two-letter word that puts us back in the gardens of wisdom. We need to be told “no.” 

Now, before you get up in arms over what I just said, HOLD IT! Save me your lashings and harsh defensive words as I remind you that I’m one of you. I’m a big part of the problem. I never got told no, was never taught self-restraint and now I’m suffering for it. I’m trying to tell you these things because I want to be the last one to bare these wounds. I want no one else to flash these same scars, because they suck. I believe everyone has at least one thing in their lives that they need to keep in check. Everyone has something that they want to give into that they shouldn’t. I’m willing to bet it feels pretty good, too. I’d be lying if I said that yelling at someone doesn’t feel right in the moment, but an order of sin is always served with a side of regret (no, that’s not a verse, it came from my own head. It’s now copyrighted. It’s mine!)

I pray this finds you well. I pray you can learn to forgive me the harm I have caused. Not for my sake, but for your own. I can go on to live a happy life with or without your blessing, but can you stand to be a harbor to all the pain? Can you live with all the clutter of old hurts that need to be thrown out? Will you let the distinction between right and wrong set you free, or will you let the chaos of ignoring them altogether bury you alive? The choice is yours.

Until next time

May Peace be your guide.