#10 Suffering produces character.

This last entry in my expositions on Ten Things to Remember has been slow in coming. One reason for the delay is that, like the first entry, this last one, the other bookend, strikes me mostly as a platitude. Yes, I know. God loves me and has a wonderful plan for my life. (Yawn.) When that wonderful life starts to fall apart, people tell me I'm unlovable, and my emotions spiral downward, it's hard to believe it. I can give mental assent when my heart cries out it isn't true, but it seems hollow.

Now here we are at the other end with another platitude: Suffering produces character. There are at least two passages from the Bible to support this thought: Romans 5:3-5 and James 1:2-4. Our parents, grandparents, and other mentors in life also sometimes like to remind us of this truth when they tire of our whining. Most of us, however, would gladly give up a little character development if we could find a way to avoid the hard times. And we all know people of weak character who readily relate all of life's difficulties that stand between them and being a better person. Sometimes, it seems, the primary product of difficult circumstances is wounded, unhappy people.

Still, it's true. When we choose to allow it, difficult times can indeed be good for us. They drive us to the God who alone can redeem them and turn what looks to be hopelessly bad into good. In the Bible, at the end of the book of Genesis, Joseph, the favored son of Jacob (aka Israel) sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, assures them that God used the terrible evil they did for good by enabling him to save the world as they knew it from starving to death during seven years of famine.

The worst evil people can do can be redeemed by the amazing life-giving power of our Creator. Hard times can work wonders within us. This I truly believe. But when trouble shows up and punches me in the gut, in those times of emotional distress, it's hard for me to see character as worth the price.

I can imagine a stand-up comedian getting some good laughs by pulling out this line, harking back to the lack of support from friends and family during the tough times. Which is maybe the greatest value it has when I'm flailing around at the bottom of an emotional pit. It can draw my attention to the world of laughter and irony and enable me to smile just a little at the drama which has so consumed my energy and skewed my perspective. I consider the measure of my suffering on a universal scale (pitifully low considering the intensity of my reaction to it) and consider how much character development I can hope to get out of it. Maybe being able to step out of myself and find even that tiny trace of humor in my heart at how serious I'm taking life's blows is a first step toward both emotional health and a stronger character.

So when I'm counting to ten in response to life's blows, if the first nine don't give me a hand up out of my slough of despair, I can at least fall back on this timeless piece of advice coming from those who aren't walking where I'm walking and think about what wonderful character development I can hope for if I manage to endure my suffering to the end.

#9 The words are not the message

I don't know about you but I regularly interact with people who don't articulate their feelings well. Sometimes they are unable to do so. They may not be in touch with their inner selves enough to know what lies behind their surface emotions. Other times they choose to hide their real feelings from me. Sometimes it's a combination. Hiding their inner feelings from me is an unavoidable part of hiding from themselves.

I recently triggered the defenses of a friend. In his “constructive criticism” response, he put a negative label on my viewpoint and told me I was blind to the truth about him and his actions. It was a struggle for me to look beyond the negative label I didn't want to wear and the word arrows being shot my way to recognize that the message my friend was giving me was that my words to him had hit a sensitive spot. I wanted to bring in proof of my visual acuity and persuade him to take back the negative label. I wanted to respond to his words rather than to the wounded spirit that prompted them. The urge to vindicate myself was strong.

When such scenes play themselves out, the words spoken tend toward extreme positions: “You never ...” “You always ...” They hold me personally responsible for bringing unpleasantness into the world. My own defenses spring to life and I make rebuttal statements. After all, the words contains untruths and I like to get the facts straight. But when I focus on the words I am missing the point. These negative words are generally not about me. They are a trap, a distraction. There is a message behind them that I'll miss if I'm not careful.

A couple of examples:

The words:
You are always late. [Not true. I am usually very prompt, seldom early, and do slip into late more than I like, but I am NOT "always late".]

The message:
The time I spent waiting for you has upset me.
Or maybe, I have had a bad day and your tardiness isn't helping.
Or maybe, I was hoping you would be early because I'm on a tight schedule today.

The words:
You didn't do a thing to help me. [Maybe not, but it's not as though I was sitting around doing nothing. Do you want to hear my excuses for not helping?]

The message:
I am tired.
Or maybe, I am struggling with this project.
Or maybe, this project has left me feeling isolated and alone.
Or maybe, I feel like our friendship is fading.

When words start raining down on me and my “truth detector” urges me to set the person behind them straight concerning their erroneous statements, I really need this reminder to look beyond the exaggeration, the non sequitors, and the accusations to the nature of the pain that brought out the word arrows. Otherwise, I'm just examining incoming arrows for balance and weight without figuring out who is shooting at me and why. If I can get beyond the words, I can ask the right questions to figure out what's really going on.

Even though it's almost at the end of my list of ten things to remember, this is in the running for the most needed reminder of the bunch. The words are not the message.

#8 What Goes Around Comes Around -- or: God Is Not Mocked

The connection between the two title choices of this eight item on my list of ten things to remember may not be obvious. The first version traces back to using a revolving door as a memory 'hook' for it. The door goes around and around. Moving one door panel inevitably moves the entire door. If I don't move with it, it will sneak up behind me and smack me in the back. I'll be the victim of my own actions.

The "God is not mocked" phrase comes from Galatians 6:7. In the NIV it reads: "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows." Again, a chosen action (sowing a particular seed) inevitably leads to a predictable consequence. Pushing a door panel makes the entire door go around. Planting corn seed never gives you peas. If you plant corn, corn is what you can expect to grow.

This eighth thing to remember is related to the seventh and enables the seventh. When I pass on the love and mercy of God to those who don't deserve it, I give up my right and responsibility to set them straight. This could lead to a terrible injustice without the reaping-what-you-sow principle. This principle tells me that justice is built into the world and is completely independent of my efforts. I don't have to reflect someone's negative behavior to show them how it feels to be treated the way they are treating others. The whole universe is set up to handle that reflectivity. I can be confident that those who treat me with contempt will be on the receiving end of contempt at some point (if they haven't already experienced it). Those who are selfish will encounter selfish behavior in others. Those who demonstrate hatred will encounter hatred directed their way. The principle of reflectivity is so deeply ingrained in the universe that I am completely expendable as a mirror and can focus all my energy on reflecting the love and mercy of God rather than giving people a taste of their own medicine.

This principle of justice is revealed all through the Bible and abundantly demonstrated around us when we look through eyes of faith. I can look around and see that those who criticize me are often the subject of criticism. Those who fail to listen find few listeners. Those who dig pits to trap others often fall into those pits.

The psalms often talk of the wicked living well for a time, but note that their end is always destruction. It may look like everything is coming up roses for those who trample over me, but I can be confident that the thorns are there and will inevitably snag them.

The more faith I have in this principle the easier it is to resist the urge to push back against people whom I perceive to be mistreating me. Every seed they sow will inevitably produce a harvest. Those who are sowing seeds of unpleasantness may already be living in a world full of unpleasantness directed their way. Regardless of whether that's the cause or effect of their own unpleasantness, I can afford to be compassionate toward them, knowing there is no lack of negative consequences already coming their way in connection with their negative actions and attitudes.

As I apply this principle to those who have brought my world crashing down, I also remember that I too will reap what I sow and start looking around my seed bin for seeds of kindness and compassion. That's the type of crop I would like to harvest when what I set in motion comes back around to me. It's often easier said than done, but it helps to keep this on my list of things to remember.

#7 Life is Reflective -- Choose Your Source

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us that those who are merciful will receive mercy (Mt 5:7), those who judge will be judged (Mt 7:1-2), and that we should treat others as we wish to be treated (Mt 7:12). These principles are often seen as L-shaped, i.e. God -- either in this life or the one to come -- will treat us (the vertical leg) as we have treated others (the horizontal leg). However, it doesn't take much sociological research to see that there is much truth in these statements on a strictly horizontal and immediate level. You can hear it in our language:

"I wonder how she would feel if people treated her that way!"

"It's time to give him a taste of his own medicine."

"You gotta fight fire with fire."

"He started it!'

"Don't hand it out if you can't take it."

"Now there's an example of the pot calling the kettle black."

It seems we are born with a natural instinct to treat people the way we perceive them to be treating others, particularly on the negative side of life. Those who criticize others are easy to see in a critical light. Those who are unforgiving aren't easy to forgive. Those who speak harshly to us stir up a hardness within us that makes us want to respond in equally harsh terms. It's not easy to be generous with people who hoard everything that comes their way.

Not only do we tend to reflect people's behavior back to them, we also tend to justify our own behavior. It's easy to see the attacks that come my way as unprovoked and undeserved. In contrast, my attacks on others are matters of self-defense or intended to let them know how it feels to be attacked so they don't do it anymore.

Into this back-and-forth clash of negative reflectivity come Jesus' teachings to reflect not the negative behavior of those around us but the love and grace, mercy and forgiveness of our heavenly Father. It's the positive side of reflectivity that is L-shaped; and God is the initiator. As God forgives us, we are to forgive others. As God is generous with us, we are to be generous with others. As God sees past what is ugly within us, we look past what is ugly in others. As God values us, we look for value in others. Rather than a mirror reflecting the negative behavior of others back to them, we reflect the love of God. "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19). As others have put it, we are moons -- cold dark rocks until we start reflecting the sun's light for all to see.

It is easy and natural to reflect the negative attitudes of those around me back to them, to be no more generous or accepting or forgiving than they are. It takes a deliberate choice to pass on to others the grace and mercy I receive from God. It helps to include on my list of ten things to remember a reminder to choose carefully my source for reflectivity.

#6 -- Someday I will dance

The sixth thing on my list of Ten Things to Remember actually comes from a reminder to myself I wrote years ago. In its entirety, I don't think any commentary is needed.

Someday I will dance unhindered.
I will glide across the great expanse of heaven
with bright sparks of freedom and joy in my eyes,
leaping and whirling in perfect rhythm with the music.

With that gracefulness and freedom
waiting in the great beyond,
I can afford to rein in my exuberance for today,
matching my steps to those around me
no matter how slow or clumsy.

Because someday ...
I will put on my dancing shoes and dance.

#5 -- Humiliation has yet to prove fatal

The fifth thing to remember on my list of ten has the morning newspaper for a memory hook. In this case, the newspaper is over my bowed head as I try to cover up my embarrassment. I am sure my life is over, that I am literally going to die of embarrassment. But as I wait for death to come the moments drag on ... and on ... and on... and it starts to occur to me that humiliation is not actually life-threatening, that I will almost surely live to see another day. So I take the newspaper off my head and add this insight to my list of ten things to remember, hoping that by remembering sooner rather than later, I can avoid the agony of waiting futilely for death to rescue me from my shame.

My earliest memory of shame happens to also be perhaps my earliest memory of being in church. My memories don't go back far into my preschool years and in this case I am old enough to know at least some of the words of the song being sung. As I sing along with enthusiasm, I am suddenly aware that the song is a "special," not a congregational, that I am the only one in the congregation singing. Oh, the shame! I bury my face in my mother's lap and cry piteously. I don't want anyone there to see me ever again. I just want to escape somehow. And amidst many, many moments that slip past me during that time of my life, it's that moment of shame and embarrassment that imprints itself in my mind and persists for these many years. Still, I survived the moment and went on to sing with gusto again.

I've grown up a little since that time. Now when I accidentally sing when I should be silent (in whatever form that takes), it is generally only mildly embarrassing to me. I make a mental note to find a way to avoid doing it again and move on. Usually. Sometimes I hide for a while, still waiting to die of embarrassment. But death consistently fails to rescue me and I eventually return to the game.

Someone has suggested that we wouldn't be nearly so concerned about what people think of us if we knew how little they do. It's a helpful thought, although it's offset in my mind by the realization of how many formative moments in my life have come from people who had no clue how powerful their words were and knocked me down without noticing. I don't want to be that kind of person. Still, it helps in times of shame to realize that most of the people I think are staring at me are actually too preoccupied with their own stuff to focus in on my embarrassment. There are a few perks to living in a world populated by self-centered humans. Even those heaping scorn on my head or pointing out my flaws will eventually get bored and move on. It's not as though I'm not even more broken than they know. One of life's many underrated blessings is the fact that no one gets to observe every stupid thing we do. The odd person who has nothing better to do than enjoy what they can see of my many slips in life is pretty desperate for entertainment.

And so, in moments when shame and humiliation flood my soul and make me look for a hole to crawl into, I try to instead fix my focus on life on the other side of that moment, to remember that such moments inevitably pass by and the only casualty is my pride, which always manages to recover and come back around to trip me up again. With this in mind, I can even consider the idea of throwing my stubborn pride to the lions when it's the only thing standing between me and more effective living. What freedom there is in realizing that humiliation has yet to prove fatal.

#4 Broken Bread, Poured-Out Wine

The fourth entry in my list of Ten Things to Remember is food sitting on the four-sided, four-legged breakfast table I sit at on my three-point (“h”-shaped) chair wearing my two-legged pants that I put on after pushing the one button on my old-fashioned alarm clock.

These words, of course, find their roots in the Last Supper and echo through time and space during the celebration of the Eucharist. "Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you." and "This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me" (1 Corinthians 15:24-25, KJV) However, they come to my list of things to remember via an intermediate source – Oswald Chambers as memorialized by his wife in My Utmost for His Highest. Nine times in the 365 entries of this classic devotional, the reader is called to give his or her own life as broken bread and poured-out wine.

C. S. Lewis writes in Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer about hanging “festoons” on the familiar phrases of the Lord’s Prayer during Church of England liturgy, contemplating various aspects of each line. This is sort of what I do with broken bread and poured-out wine. Beginning with the nouns, I think about bread and see it as a solid presence. Being bread in the world is simply getting out there and being present, showing up. When I think of wine and its symbolism for blood, I see it as representing life. Wine is the sparkle of life that accompanies the simple presence of bread.

Picking up the adjectives, adds new dimensions. The idea of being broken takes a lot of pressure off my days. I tend toward perfectionism. I want to get life right, keep my promises, fulfill the expectations others have for me, meet standards of excellence. But I fall short. There are more expectations than I can possibly meet. I can’t always keep my promises, and even my best efforts often leave people disappointed and irritated. Besides, there are sad situations I can’t fix; there is needed help I can’t give. I am broken, less than perfect. I not only am unable to be all things to all people, I don’t even get out of the gate in that regard.

And so I go into the world broken yet present. Broken bread is still bread. And brokenness is the best I have to offer. Rather than drawing back from life for fear of being exposed and rejected as broken, I push myself to offer my presence to others even in my broken state. When I am knocked flat and fear I am irreparably broken, it helps to remember that I was already broken and live in a broken world where there is value simply in being a solid, dependable, nourishing presence.

Poured-out wine adds a dimension of being dissipated. Bread is a solid. It stays in one place. Wine is liquid. When poured out on the ground it flows and is gone. It’s one thing to be broken but solid. It’s another to pour out my life energy into others and watch it flow away and be irretrievably gone. When I am knocked flat and it seems life it draining out of me, it helps to see such a state as one to which I have been called. Jesus told us we find life by losing it. When I choose to live as poured-out wine, it takes the panic out of realizing that I am being drained of my life energy.

As I remember this phrase, I pray daily that God will give me to my world as broken bread (a flawed but solid presence) and poured-out wine (life freely and irretrievably given away).