Reversing Your Pointer
February 11th, 2010A BRIEF LESSON ON RELATIONSHIPS (of all types, shapes, sizes, and colors)
[Oh boy. Is this ambitious? A yet-to-be-married 21-year-old is about to offer the World Wide Web a lesson on relationships. Ambitious and premature, I say. You could probably get much better relational advice elsewhere, but here goes nothing...]
Since being in my relationship with my fiancé Bethany, I’ve learned a lot–– about myself, mostly. And I’m grateful for this. Though I’ve seen more of my ugliness than I ever knew existed, I never would have discovered it outside of the context of relationship. Relationships are one of God’s favorite contexts for refinement.
Early on in my relationship with Bethany (before the pet names had been decided or I passed gas in front of her), the Holy Spirit taught me something very important–– to reverse my pointer. Rather than granting myself immunity from wrongdoing, I began to question myself each time I was offended, irritated, or upset with her (which, being the gem she is, was very rare). I chose not to point the finger at her but, instead, learned to point it at myself.
When she would repeatedly forget the same lyric to the song she sung in the car, she wasn’t forgetting intentionally. She wasn’t trying to annoy me. The truth of the matter was that I was short-fused and easily-annoyed. I had an impatience problem which needed to be dealt with much more urgently than her lyric-forgetting problem did. I had no grounds to correct her. She was doing nothing wrong. When I reversed my pointer and examined myself I found that I was the wrongdoer, not her.
After experiencing initial success with this, I began applying it to my other relationships. Whenever a negative emotion arose toward another, I would delay my reaction and double check that I had the proper grounds to react in whatever way I was inclined. And, nearly every time, I discovered that I was much more guilty than the particular person with whom I was offended. My offense at the person was usually rooted in my [pride/ impatience/ orneriness/ coarseness/ you-name-it-ness] much more than it was the other’s action.
Over time, I was shocked to find that I was more ill-willed than I could have ever imagined and those around me were more well-meaning than I ever would have assumed. “Why the victim mentality?” I began to ask myself. How could I always be the right one? How could I always be the one who was wronged? Impossible! That’s a ridiculous notion! In fact, when I took a step backward, I was almost never right. Not once was I able to justify my offense. For, the behavior which most often offends me is usually mostly subconscious and sincere.
Much of my biblical ammunition for this concept came from Paul’s teaching to the Philippian church. “Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit,” he says, “But in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others.” (Excerpt from Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians).
I’ve begun to esteem the intentions of Bethany and others better than those of my own. I’ve reversed the pointer finger back at myself, first double checking my sincerity. Usually, I’m self-seeking. Usually, I consider my preference superior to those around me. And, in doing this, I’m acting through conceit–– which Paul warns against.
Now, I’m far from having it together. It’s not as if this understanding is a magical fix-all. It hasn’t been the universal cure for all of my relational problems. It hasn’t brought comprehensive relational harmony. I still fail. I commonly forget Paul’s exhortation. Out of habit, I react too quickly to a situation which ruffles me. However, I’ve been unable to form a good argument against this principle. If I do happen to pipe up and try to justify myself against it (i.e. “Yeah, but he/she…”), I end up scapegoating another to do so.
I want to go as low as possible. I’ll never regret humility. Never. The Lord is too good to mislead me that way. If He recommends humility, I must trust Him.
As Mike Bickle once said, “Lord, shock me now, not later.” Let’s have the same attitude.
[not very] Sincerely,
-a wretched, selfish, backbiting, arrogant, ambitious young man named Jules

