Seasons and Horizons

Today I had to admit something I didn’t particularly enjoy admitting.

I was wrong.

Not necessarily wrong because I had been careless. I was working from information I believed was current and accurate. As far as I knew, I had every reason to believe I was right.

But I was still wrong.

Someone at work challenged something I had done. I didn’t like the way it was brought to my attention, especially because it was put out there in a way that felt more public than I thought it needed to be.

And I reacted.

I became defensive. I was convinced that I knew what I was talking about and that he was the one who had gotten it wrong. Instead of slowing down and asking a simple question — Why are we seeing two different things? — I responded from a place of certainty.

And if I’m being truthful, there was some ego behind that certainty.

I thought I was right.

I thought he was wrong.

And I wanted to prove it.

Later, I discovered what had actually happened.

The document I had been using had been replaced with an updated version only a few days after the one I had received. I never received the newer version. So I had continued working from information that I genuinely believed was correct.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

We hadn’t been looking at the same information.

I had an older version. He had the newer one.

There was an explanation for why I had been wrong.

But there wasn’t an excuse for the way I had responded.

When Being Right Becomes Too Important

That’s the part that stayed with me.

I could easily defend myself by saying I had been given outdated information. That’s true.

I could say the situation could have been handled differently. I still believe that’s true too.

But neither of those things changes what I did.

I reacted before I researched.

Instead of asking questions, I became defensive. Instead of trying to understand why our information didn’t match, I assumed the other person was wrong.

And once I realized what had happened, I apologized.

I needed to.

Because the problem wasn’t simply that I had incorrect information. The bigger problem was what came out of me when I felt challenged.

That was harder to admit.

I want to think of myself as a humble person. I don’t want to be someone who has to prove that he knows more than somebody else. I don’t want to overpower another person simply because I’m convinced that I’m right.

But today showed me that under enough pressure, I can still become that person.

And I didn’t like seeing it.

What Pressure Reveals

It’s easy to believe we’re patient when nobody is testing our patience.

It’s easy to believe we’re humble when nobody is questioning us.

It’s easy to believe we’re slow to anger when everything is going our way.

But pressure has a way of revealing things.

When I’m tired, overloaded, and trying to keep too many things moving at once, I can become defensive faster than I realize. And when somebody challenges something I’m certain about, that defensiveness can turn into a need to prove myself.

Maybe recognizing that is part of growth.

Not pretending it didn’t happen.

Not beating myself up endlessly because it did.

But seeing it clearly enough that the next time I recognize that feeling rising inside me, I can respond differently.

Maybe the question I need to remember is simple:

What am I missing?

Before defending myself.

Before raising my voice.

Before deciding somebody else doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

Before trying to prove that I’m right.

What am I missing?

The Humility to Ask

Proverbs says:

“When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”
— Proverbs 11:2

I have read verses about humility many times. But sometimes Scripture becomes much more personal when life gives us an opportunity to see exactly why we need it.

Humility doesn’t mean assuming I’m always wrong.

It doesn’t mean refusing to speak up.

And it doesn’t mean allowing someone else to walk over me.

Sometimes humility is simply recognizing that I may not have all the information yet.

I can be confident in what I know while leaving enough room for the possibility that there is something I don’t know.

Today, there was.

Five minutes of asking questions might have revealed what an argument eventually revealed anyway: we were working from different information.

That’s a lesson I don’t want to forget.

The Man I Want to Become

I can’t say, I never want to be that person.

I already was.

For a moment today, I let pride and defensiveness get ahead of humility and wisdom.

I can’t undo that.

But I can own it.

I can apologize.

I can learn from it.

And with God’s help, I can respond differently the next time.

Maybe that’s part of what becoming a better man looks like. Not reaching some point where I never get anything wrong, but becoming quicker to recognize when I do.

Quicker to listen.

Quicker to ask questions.

Quicker to apologize.

And slower to defend myself before I understand the whole story.

Today I was wrong.

I’m not grateful for the way I handled it.

But I am grateful that God allowed me to see it.

Because sometimes the things we least enjoy discovering about ourselves are exactly the things God can use to change us.