The cop scribbled on his pad. “I don’t want to ruin your weekend,” he said. “So, I’ll run your card and let you off with a warning.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, ducking my head. “Thank you, sir.” My head bobbed again.
Photo courtesy of Areta Ekarafi via flickr.com
It’s been years since I’ve bowed to anyone, but suddenly I was back in South Korea squeezing my way through the teetering shelves of the neighborhood grocery store and turning around at the door. I’d press my hands together, duck my head toward the owner, and say “Annyeonghi gaseyo” before heading out.
I’d forgotten all about bowing until this cop and his pen almost scribbled two-hundred dollars out of my bank account. Suddenly, the habit came back in full force.
Habits scuttle through lives our like mice—they scurry out when we least expect and the little buggers are hard to kill.
I’ve noticed recently that some of us—myself included—have a habit of focusing on sin. We’re tired of seeing Christians parade around like Fisher Price families, with plastic smiles and perfect lives. We want authentic relationships. So, we share our struggles and avoid pride like the plague. (I mean, who really wants to hear how Sally fasted for 48 hours last week and felt so close to God?)
So, we say things like:
- “I’m guilty of praying too little.”
- “You’d think I’d have more faith by now.”
- “If I really loved Jesus, I’ld be doing longer quiet times.”
And, while I’ld take this type of authenticity over Fisher Price people any day, I wonder whether focusing on our failures affects our experience of Christianity. Because, in a sense, our words are like bricks on a path–they take us somewhere.
There’s a sociology theory call Social Constructivism which suggests that language shapes our experience of reality. So, when we eat ice cream and say, “Thank you, God, for mint-chocolatey goodness,” we share a lovely moment with God over a scoop of Breyer’s. But, if eating the same ice cream we moan, “Ugh! I have no self-control,” we step into a gym of self-loathing exercises. What we say shapes what we experience.
True, some of us might be first-graders when it comes to prayer. Others of us might struggle to pass Anxiety 101. But when we focus on our failures we pave a road, one conversation at a time, toward Discouragement and Defeat.
I think we might need to slather some of that grace—which we say we believe in—into our conversations. Let’s stop worrying so much about sounding prideful. If God’s been helping you with self-control, tell me about it! Let’s celebrate what God is doing. And if, after my weekly romp through selfishness I’ve confessed but still feel guilty, I’ll bask in grace.
Jesus loves us as much when we fail as in our successes. Because, they aren’t really our successes anyways, are they? So, let’s get a refund on our membership to the guilt club and start making a big deal about Jesus, instead.
Great post on a very relevant issue. If joe spends time with me because he feels guilty if he does something else, it sort of nullifies the whole purpose of simply enjoying each other. I also think guilt is more closely associated to an overgrown sense of self-awareness than a sense of self-forgetfulness.
Self-forgetfulness vs. self-awareness. I like that.