Skip to main content

Pointing Fingers


Only moments after waking up this morning, I was startled this morning by a most repulsive experience. I had just put in my contacts – I am nearly blind without them – and my eyes were greeted by the disgusting sight of a pile of fingernail clippings on the bathroom counter. What kind of miscreant would do such a thing?!? I mean, leaving an empty roll of toilet paper is one thing, but this was a whole other level of barbaric behavior.

What kind of animal does something like that?!? Was it one of my kids? Could it have been my lovely wife? Ah, maybe it was one of our uncivilized guests from the night before!

As I pondered the repulsive behavior – and as self-righteous desire for justice welled up inside of me – my half-asleep brain started putting the pieces together and I came to a horrifying realization: it was me! I had clipped my fingernails the previous afternoon, and as the self-grooming momentum built, I decided to take a pass at my toenails as well. I was accomplishing so much!

In the dopamine-fueled rush of accomplishment, I had forgotten to clean up my mess (I did clean up the toenail clippings though, quit judging). I felt shame as I wiped down the counter and realized all that righteous indignation and disgust was now directed at me!

As I cleaned up after my disgusting self, I was reminded how often we are so quick to pass blame and search out a culprit before acknowledging our own responsibility. We can so easily jump right into victim mode as we seek to identify those who have wronged us.

Blame-shifting is a slippery slope of disempowerment. And rarely will our lives meaningfully improve until we quit pointing fingers and recognize our own role within the messes of our lives. The words of Matthew 7:5 underscore that point: "Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

 

Embarrassingly, I was that hypocrite this morning



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Toxic Humility

We have all seen false humility: the guy who tries to hide his arrogance with feigned modesty. It’s usually pretty obvious and always obnoxious. But there is also another variation of false humility out there: toxic humility. This is often displayed in self-deprecating talk and a lack of self-confidence, belittling or undermining one’s own talents and abilities. The danger in this kind of behavior is twofold: it is too often accepted as true humility and like a virus, it spreads doubt and disbelief. To clarify, it is not that the bearer of this toxic humility isn’t honest about his view of himself. That is the very issue: he absolutely believes he has little value or utility. He thinks downplaying his own worth is humility but I disagree. CS Lewis said it best when he wrote, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it's thinking about yourself less.” His point being, true humility is not an ever-present raincloud of self-doubt that follows you around. It’s a focus on...

The Art of Intentionality

  “Intentional living is the art of making our own choices before others’ choices make you.” – Richie Norton   I am not even sure who Richie Norton is, but I love that quote! I imagine a ship drifting out to sea, pushed around by the wind and the waves. No course of direction, yet the captain is frustrated when the ship ends up dashed against the rocks, trapped on a sandbar or marooned on an inhospitable island. It is easy to complain when life takes us where we do not want to go. But who is really to blame if we have never set our sails to align us along an appropriate course? Do we blame the waves, wind and the weather? Or should we blame the captain of the ship? It is our life and our ship. We must set our sails with intentionality and determined choices. Otherwise, we are doomed to aimlessly drift along according to the choices and decisions of others. 

The Hungry Lion

  Early in my career, as I was struggling to both build up my clientele and provide food for my family, someone tried to encourage me by saying, “remember, the hungry lion hunts best.” At the time, that made sense to me. And it probably even provided some much-needed reassurance. But I have since come to think differently. I was a starving lion, and I learned a few things from the experience. Hungry lions get fatigued. They become desperate. They cut corners. They make unforced errors. But fed lions have their own issues. Their satiety can turn into selfishness. They get comfortable and then complacent. These lions do not hunt well either. I believe the lion who hunts best is not the hungry lion nor the satisfied lion, but rather the lion who hunts not for himself and his own hunger, but for the pride of lions around him. His drive is not his own need for nourishment; it is the hunger of those around him that motivates him. Our world is a hurting and hungry place. Not just ...