DISCLAIMER: By asking for or listening to any advice I have for you, whether based in God or not, you have agreed and accepted that you know that I know that I have a log in my eye, as according to scripture (Matthew 7:3). Proceed at your own risk.
I was having a conversation with my friend Meg recently about some stuff, the exact specifics of which I don’t really need to go into detail here. I’ve always been known to be wise (not tooting my own horn, or “hooting” as they would call it here in South Africa) but it’s just something others have said about me, and because of that I give a lot of advice when people ask for it . . . or even if they don’t, because, hey, I’m a fixer. Working on that, by the way.
Anyway, I like to give advice, and recently I was giving advice to Meg, and I suddenly felt compelled to state that I have a glaring log in my eye… I was feeling so convicted I need her to know that I knew it was there. I’m not perfect (surprise) and even when I am struggling with something, sometimes I find myself trying to coach people out of the same thing they’re struggling with…even when I’m not actually out of it. Do you ever find yourself in that position?
Maybe it’s relationship problems. Maybe it’s character problems. Maybe you’re struggling with drugs or alcohol or porn or sex. And you find other people and you struggle together and you see or hear something that could help them and you get so pumped to be able to tell them about it without really stopping to think that maybe you’re the one you need to inform. I would do that all the time. I would sit in the church pew and listen to the pastor preaching and he would be spot on and I would just sit there thinking, “Man, I hope so-and-so is listening and paying attention because they need to hear this.”
There is a huge, glaring log in my eye.
I’m reading a book right now called “Switch on Your Brain” by Dr. Caroline Leaf (if you haven’t read it, go buy it and read it because it’s awesome) and as I’m reading it I am thinking of the people in my life who need to read this book because, man if they do, and they just get it, then that would solve some problems.
You see, I’m a problem-solver. I’m a fixer. I see a character flaw in someone and I am just thinking of all of the solutions that I want to tell them about. “Hey, listen, this is why you are this way and this is what you can do to stop being this way and start being that way because God has called us to be that way.” A lot of times I am so busy trying to solve other people’s problems that I end up paying no attention to my own.
There is a huge, glaring log in my eye.
This book I’m reading talks about how we can change how we perceive life, how we can change our physical health, how we can change our attitudes and our outcomes by changing the way we think. It’s super cool because it backs science with scripture and vice-versa. Check it out. Anyway, I’m reading this book and digging this book, but then I analysed my own thoughts… What thoughts could I change? I’m starting to look at the log in my eye and it’s making me uncomfortable. I think some more. I have mean-spirited thoughts (hello, I’m human). I get annoyed with people. I complain about people. I nestle down in these thoughts and allow them to dictate my mood towards people. The worst thing is that a very deep root in me does not want to take the log out of my eye. Yeah, that log is uncomfortable to my spirit, but it is comfortable to my flesh. It’s familiar. I’m used to it. To take it out would be incredibly uncomfortable.
Meg and I were talking about pruning during this conversation too. You see, if you have a fruit tree, it is going to grow all kinds of branches. Some of them will produce fruit, some of them will produce nothing at all. If you don’t prune the tree, then it will invest energy into growing the fruitless branches just as much as it will invest energy into the fruit-producing branches. This makes the tree less fruitful overall, so you prune off the fruitless branches so that the tree can invest even more energy into the fruitful ones. What I’m meaning to say is, I have fruitless branches. I know that they aren’t producing fruit, and they are hindering my growth, and God keeps trying to prune them, but I haven’t been allowing him to. Because I feel entitled to them. Because, by allowing him to prune me means that I have to keep growing. And growth is painful and hard and tiresome. If I allow him to prune these branches, that takes me one more step away from the world and one more step towards Him and His identity he has for me. That should be what I want, and I believe my Spirit wants it, but my flesh is resistant. Because my flesh likes familiarity.
This particular branch, this branch of negative thoughts and mean-spiritedness, if it were to be severed from my spirit, I could no longer entertain those types of things, whether within myself or within others. And that sets me apart even further from those around me. Allowing God to prune that branch means that when I feel irritated or mean or full of complaint about a person, I don’t get to hold onto that or settle into it or share it with others who I perceive to feel the same way; it means that I am obligated to take hold of those thoughts and emotions and cast them out of my mind. It means that I am no longer entitled to my irrational feelings, but instead I must reign them in and change them. That’s hard work. It’s much easier to just give in, chalk it up to being human, let it dictate my relationship, and move on with my life as if nothing can be done about it. But the Bible never said anything about the easy path being the good path. In fact, it says that the path to righteousness is a hard and narrow road that few find and stay on….and I want to be on that road. So I’m going to let God prune the bad away so that the good can flourish.
