Excerpt from C. S. Lewis:
I suppose I may assume that seven out of ten of those who read these lines are in some kind of difficulty about some other human being. Either at work or at home, either the people who employ you or those whom you employ, either those who share your house or those whose house you share, either your in-laws or parents or children, your wife or your husband, are making life harder for you than it need be even in these days. It is hoped that we do not often mention these difficulties (especially the domestic ones) to outsiders. But sometimes we do. An outside friend asks us why we are looking so glum, and the truth comes out.On such occasions the outside friend usually says, "But why don't you tell them? Why don't you go to your wife (or husband, or father, or daughter, or boss, or
landlady, or lodger) and have it all out? People are usually reasonable. All you've got to do is to make them see things in the right light. Explain it to them in a reasonable, quiet, friendly way." And we, whatever we say outwardly, think sadly to ourselves, "He doesn't know X." We do. We know how utterly hopeless it is to make X see reason. Either we've tried it over and over again--tried till we are sick of trying it--or else we've never tried because we saw from the beginning how useless it would be. We know that if we attempt to "have it all out with X" there will be a "scene", or else X will stare at us in blank amazement and say "I don't know what on earth you're talking about"; or else (which is perhaps worst of all) X will quite agree with us and promise to turn over a new leaf and put everything on a new footing -- and then, twenty-four hours later, will be exactly the same as X has always been. You know, in fact, that any attempt to talk things over with X will shipwreck on the old, fatal flaw in X's character. And you see, looking back, how all the plans you have ever made always have shipwrecked on that fatal flaw--on X's incurable jealousy, or laziness, or touchiness, or muddle-headedness, or bossiness, or ill temper, or changeableness. Up to a certain age you have perhaps had the illusion that some external stroke of good fortune--an improvement in health, a rise of salary, the end of the war -- would solve your difficulty. But you know better now. The war is over, and you realize that even if the other things happened, X would still be X, and you would still be up against the same old problem. Even if you became a millionaire, your husband would still be a bully, or your wife would still nag, or your son would still drink, or you'd still have to have your mother-in-law live with you. It is a great step forward to realize that this is so; to face up to the fact that even if all external things went right, real happiness would still depend on the character of the people you have to live with--and that you can't alter their characters. And now comes the point. When you have seen this you have, for the first time, had a glimpse of what it must be like for God. For of course, this is (in one way) just what God Himself is up against. He has provided a rich, beautiful world for people to live in. He has given them intelligence to show them how it ought to be used. He has contrived that the things they need for their biological life (food, drink, rest, sleep, exercise) should be positively delightful to them. And, having done all this, He then sees all His plans spoiled--just as our little plans are spoiled -- by the crookedness of the people themselves. All the things He has given them to be happy with they turn into occasions for quarreling and jealousy, and excess and hoarding, and tomfoolery... But... there are two respects in which God's view must be very different from ours. In the first place, He sees (like you) how all the people in your home or your job are in various degrees awkward or difficult; but when He looks into that home or factory or office He sees one more person of the same kind--the one you never do see.
I mean, of course, yourself. That is the next great step in wisdom--to realize that you also are just that sort of person. You also have a fatal flaw in your character. All the hopes and plans of others have again and again shipwrecked on your character just as your hopes and plans have shipwrecked on theirs.
It is no good passing this over with some vague, general admission such as "Of course, I know I have my faults." It is important to realize that there is some really fatal flaw in you: something which gives others the same feeling of despair which their flaws give you. And it is almost certainly something you don't know about--like what the advertisements call "halitosis", which everyone notices except the person who has it. But why, you ask, don't the others tell me? Believe me, they have tried
to tell you over and over and over again. And you just couldn't "take it". Perhaps a good deal of what you call their "nagging" or "bad temper"... are just their attempts to make you see the truth. And even the faults you do know you don't know fully. You say, "I admit I lost my temper last night"; but the others know that you're always doing it, that you are a bad-tempered person. You say, "I admit I drank too much last Saturday"; but every one else knows that you are a habitual drunkard.
This is one way in which God's view must differ from mine. He sees all the characters: I see all except my own. But the second difference is this. He loves the people in spite of their faults. He goes on loving. He does not let go. Don't say, "It's all very well for Him. He hasn't got to live with them." He has. He is inside them as well as outside them. He is with them far more intimately and closely and incessantly that we can ever be. Every vile thought within their minds (and ours), every
moment of spite, envy, arrogance, greed, and self-conceit comes right up against His patient and longing love, and grieves His Spirit more than it grieves ours.
The more we can imitate God in both these respects, the more progress we shall make. We must love X more; and we must learn to see ourselves as a person of exactly the
same kind. Some people say it is morbid to always be thinking of one's own faults. That would be all very well if most of us could stop thinking of our own without soon beginning to think about those of other people. For unfortunately we enjoy thinking about other people's faults: and in the proper sense of the word "morbid", that is the most morbid pleasure in the world. We don't like rationing which is imposed upon us, but I suggest one form of rationing which we ought to impose on ourselves. Abstain from all thinking about other people's faults, unless your duties as a teacher or parent make it necessary to think about them. Whenever the thoughts come unnecessarily into one's mind, why not simply shove them away? And think of one's own faults instead? For there, with God's help, one can do something. Of all the awkward people in your house or job there is only one whom you can improve very much. That is the practical end at which to begin. And really, we'd better. The job has got to be tackled some day; and every day we put it off will make it harder to begin. What, after all, is the alternative? You see clearly enough that nothing... can make X really happy as long as X remains envious, self-centered, and spiteful. Be sure that there is something inside you which, unless it is altered, will put it out of God's power to prevent your being eternally miserable. While that something remains, there can be no Heaven for you, just as there can be no sweet smells for a man with a cold in the nose, and no music for a man who is deaf. It's not a question of God "sending" us to Hell. In each of us there is something growing up which will of itself be Hell unless it is nipped in the bud. The matter is serious: let us put ourselves in His hands at once--this very day, this hour. -(by C.S. Lewis)
12/7/08
Grandpa's Little Buddy (HCI Publishing, 2002) B. Jett
As Steven stood awkwardly on the bank of Lake Malone in Western Kentucky, his grandfather watched his "Little Buddy" desperately attempt to get just one of the many flat rocks he'd gathered to skip over the lake's sun reflective surface. "Keep at it son!" his grandfather shouted with much enthusiasm.
"Grandpa," Steven asked in his pre-adolescent and breaking voice, "Why am I no good at anything I try? I want to be a great pitcher like you used to be!"
His grandfather gently touched his shoulder while observing his grandson's eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Little Buddy, let me tell you why you are already a great pitcher and will be a better pitcher than your old grandpa ever was. Can I give you a little advice son?"
Steven looked intensely into his hero's eyes and replied, "Yes grandpa! I'll do anything to be great like you!"
His grandfather sat him down on a hollowed out log and pulled him in close. "Little Buddy, I want you to remember what I am about to tell you and all I ask is that you never forget what I had to learn the hard way. Do you promise you will remember?" Steven's grandfather asked. Without pause, Steven assured his grandfather he'd remember any and everything he told him.
His grandfather continued, "If you think someone is better than you, always remember that you are the only one who is thinking the other guy is."
His grandson looked at him inquisitively and caught his grandfather off guard with his response. "So you're saying that I need to use my brain, is that what you said grandpa?"
"You got it Little Buddy! Many folks focus on what they are doing wrong, but the winners figure out what they are doing right."
His grandson replied with yet another super insight based on what he'd heard his grandfather say. "So I need to tell myself that I am good?" he asked.
His grandfather smiled and went further: "Not only do you need to tell yourself that you're good, you must always believe that you are great! You see Little Buddy, you've got determination and grit. I've been watching you throw those stones for over two hours and anyone who stays at it that long has what it takes to be a winner even though he may get a bit down on occasion!"
As they walked back up the hill to the home Steven's grandfather built for him and his wife 20 years earlier, his grandfather took hold of his Little Buddy's hand and stated the last piece of wisdom Steven would ever hear him provide.
"You'll be at the pitcher's mound next season and I'll be there Lord willing. When you're on that mound, I want you to repeat to yourself what I'm about to tell you when you start to throw each ball. Are you listening son?"
He glanced at his grandfather and boldly stated, "Yes Sir!"
"Okay then, I want you to repeat this right after me. 'When I feel down, I know God will lift me up'!"
His grandson repeated it three times before they finally reached the front porch.
The next season came and Steven looked into the stands searching for his grandfather's always eager and proud face. "Mom, I don't see grandpa anywhere! Where is he?" he anxiously asked his mother of very strong faith.
"Steven, grandpa won't be here today because God called him to be with him last night." she flatly replied.
Steven began to cry as his mother consoled him with a firm and comforting hug. "Steven, grandpa told me last night before he passed away to be sure to tell you that he loves you and to repeat what he told you to when you get up to that mound." Steven's dark brown eye's steadied as he wiped his tears away with his baseball shirt's sleeve.
Steven's tears wiped away, he immediately looked up and stated, "When I feel down, I know God will lift me up." His mother's eyes began to water as she patted him on the back and directed his eyes towards the pitcher's mound. As he walked to the mound, his mother continued to hear him repeat what his grandpa instructed him to repeat.
With two strikes and three balls thrown awry in the bottom of the ninth inning, the crowd watched as Steven paused, knelt to one knee, muttered something and stood upright and proudly. He gazed into the eyes of the batter and shouted loud enough for the entire crowd to hear, "When I feel down, I know God will lift me up." Oddly, he held the ball like the stones his grandfather had watched him throw that sunny day only one year ago.
Steven poised himself with his gaze remaining in the batter's eyes. Before the pitch was released, he remembered his grandpa's other words of wisdom--"If you think someone is better than you, always remember that you are the only one who is thinking the other guy is."
He released the ball with a furious and awkward sidearm pitch that the "more-than-a little-bit" intimidated batter never seemingly saw curve over the middle of the plate. "You're out!" the umpire shouted and to Steven's surprise, the crowd mostly comprised of the parents of both teams, stood up and gave Steven a roaring applause. His team and the opposing team both rushed the field and carried him off the field.
Things had settled down after all of the pomp and circumstance and Steven noticed an old man walking his way. "That was a heck of a pitch you threw son," the old man stated with the same look of pride his grandpa often had shown on his face. "Sir, thanks a lot." Steven appeared confused and asked, "Sir, do I know you from somewhere?" The old man grinned, touched Steven gently on his shoulder before uttering, "No son, you don't but your grandfather did."
Steven excitingly exclaimed, "You know my grandpa?"
The old man's eyes began to fill with tears as he told Steven, "Your grandfather struck me out just like you did that boy when we were about your age. He told me something I'll never forget just before I got signed on with National Baseball League."
Steven's eyes lit up as he waited for what the old man would say next.
"Your grandfather told me that my greatest asset in the Big League wouldn't be my throwing or batting. He told me that if I ever thought someone was better than me, to always remember that I was the only one who thought the other guy was. What he never told me was what you shouted while standing out there on that mound. Your mother called me long distance late last night and asked that I come on down. I was feeling down on the trip to get here, but thanks to you son, God has lifted me up!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)