A Startling Realization
I have no idea where the thought came from. All I know is that, when I looked in the mirror at that seventy-two year old face I was shaving, it occurred to me that it is a little too late for me to blame any dumb things I do on any sort of “midlife crisis.” I really doubt that I will live long enough to celebrate birthday number 144.
I’m also thinking that senility has not totally “kicked in.” After all, my brain did work well enough to have that thought and both it and my fingers are working well enough for me to type these words. I forget a few things, make some dumb decisions, and do some other things that are less than wise, but I’ve been doing those things all of my life.
If I can’t blame my mistakes and missteps on my “advanced age” or (much earlier in my life) immaturity, what or who can I blame those things on? I need to find some reason for acting, thinking, and speaking the way I do.
Maybe the fault lies with my parents. I guess that would be a possibility. If they had done a better job, I might not make the mistakes I make. The problem with that is that, all too often in those early years they were the ones trying to get me to see where I was wrong and doing their best to try to correct me.
Maybe the fault lies with my wife. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t do those dumb things, say those stupid things, etc. There are at least a couple of problems with that idea though. One of the problems is that, like my parents, she does her best to try to make me a better person. Another problem with that kind of thinking is that, instead of putting the blame on her, I’m actually putting the blame on myself. After all, I was the one who made the choice to ask her to spend her life with me. Any attempt to blame her for my shortcomings is, in reality, a reflection on my judgment.
Maybe the problem has to do with all of those rotten teachers I had growing up. They should have done a better job preparing me for “the real world.”
Maybe “the real world” is the problem. If I didn’t live in such a messed up society, I’d do a better job making decisions and taking actions.
Maybe the problem is the church I’m a member of. If the teaching/preaching was better and if the people were friendlier, maybe I wouldn’t mess up so much. Maybe if I was included in more of the activities, I wouldn’t find myself with the wrong people so often.
The list of “maybes” could go on and on. It seems, though, that I can find fault with every possibility that I’ve been able to come up with.
There is one exception to that last statement. That’s where the “startling realization” plays a significant role in all of this.
As I was contemplating all of the reasons why I mess up and thinking about all of the people who could be responsible for leading me in the wrong direction, I was startled to realize (or be reminded of) something that I really already knew.
I was looking in the face of the only person in the world who is responsible for how I think, talk, and act. I was looking at the only person who can decide how I spend my time and who I spend that time with. I was looking at the only person who can “fix” the defects I have.
I don’t know whether or not the time in front of the mirror resulted in a good shave. All I know is that the time caused me to look past what other people see on the surface and think about what I’m really like on the inside.
After all, that’s what truly matters to God.
…[T]he Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7).
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AUTHOR: Jim Faughn
