Having been a schoolteacher for most of my career, I am used to thinking of examinations as a way to measure progress in learning. Self-examination is something I didn’t begin until my mid-life. I am currently in another season of introspection. Some people belittle introspection as “navel gazing,” a waste of time. I prefer to follow Socrates who asserted that the unexamined life is not worth living. I think the Apostle Paul echoed the philosopher’s opinion when he recommended taking one’s measure in at least two places, and Peter joins him as well. (2 Corinthians 13:5; 1 Corinthians 11:27-30; 2 Peter 1:10-11) as well as demonstrating that he took the inward look himself. (Philippians 3:4-11)
Having been through the process of self-examination before, I
find I generally have had to reconsider who I am based on what I have
discovered about myself. For example, when I used to look back on my life as a
student in elementary and secondary school, I thought of myself as a nerd. My
wife assures me that cannot be true because she would never have married a
nerd. I mentioned my nerdiness to a fellow-classmate at our fiftieth high
school reunion and she agreed with my wife; she had not thought me a nerd
either. This misapprehension didn’t really cause any harm or bring any shame,
but it does make me realize that others don’t see me for what I think I am.
After being married to my high school sweetheart for a
couple decades, I had the opinion that I was a fine example of a loving,
Christian husband. Then something brought me into that state of introspection,
and I began to realize that I had fallen far short of perfection. In fact, I
think I was basically a jerk for quite some time. I was not consciously abusive,
but because I had never tried to learn what my wife really needed, I dragged
her through a life furnished with most of what I needed thinking she was
fulfilled as well. That was a wake-up call, and I still hear that alarm ringing
on occasion.
About the same time, I discovered my wife had unfulfilled needs
I was ignoring, I also came to the surprising conclusion that for all of my thirty-seven
years, I had been trying to please my father. My Dad was of that “greatest
generation” that suffered through a Depression and fought in WWII. Like may of
his peers, he didn’t share much of what he was feeling. He was also a
workaholic which meant that even if he had been more forthcoming with
expressions of emotion, he wasn’t around very often to share them with me. I
realized during my mid-life examination that I had been asking, “What would Dad
think,” about everything in my effort to garner some praise or at least
recognition.
I also got a shocking revelation from one of my children a
few years later. I had always thought I was a really good father. I even began
to write a seminar program to share my expertise on raising perfect kids. It’s
probably a good thing I never finished it. My oldest was approaching middle age
herself when she told me (in a context I have forgotten) that as a child, she
was afraid to talk to me about anything important. Although none of them ran
away from home, each of my children found someplace else to be immediately
after high school, and I haven’t seen much of them since then. Apparently, the
nest was a little prickly.
Now I am looking over the fence at seventy. I am examining
what I have been and done in my three-score and ten. I have said for most of those
years that I am called and gifted by God as a teacher, and I would have said in
the past that I have done well at that. Even though I am retired, I still have
occasion to teach by my writing and in person when given a chance. Lately I
have been told that my teaching methods are not only ineffective, but even
harmful in some instances. This is bringing on another bout of
self-examination. I haven’t decided if my detractors are correct, but I have to
look because of what Socrates said.
Now I will explain why this autobiographical rambling
belongs on a site that claims heaven always matters most. First, there is one
thing I am positively certain of: it doesn’t ultimately matter what others
think of me or even what I think of myself. All that matters is what God thinks
of me, and I know beyond doubt that He thinks of me as His child, accepted in
the Beloved. When He looks at me, He sees Jesus. I am seated in the Heavenlies
at His right hand, the place of highest honor. I have done nothing to gain His
acceptance and His love; Jesus has done everything necessary to guarantee it. I
don’t find this truth by looking into my mind, which I have just demonstrated
is messed up. I learn the truth of my position by looking into the mirror of the
Word as James
calls it. God’s Spirit testifies to my spirit that I am his child.
The second reason these ramblings belong here is this: the
preceding paragraphs were written yesterday. Today, Pastor
Bill Johnson of Kingdom Life in Muskegon shared a word that spoke clearly
to what I had written, but in a remarkable way. Bill spoke of the need to be
grounded in the love of our Heavenly Father and to be rooted in the foundational
teachings of the Word of God. He pointed to the words of Jesus that warned of
times to come when deceit and lawlessness would cause many believers to drift
away from righteous moorings. Finally Bill referenced
Hebrews 12 which warns of a “shaking” that will cause worldly things to fall
away.
I’ll keep trying to be a better husband-father-teacher-man, but I won’t waste a minute worrying if I am a good son of my Heavenly Father; He has taken care of that – no examination needed. I will also focus my deepest efforts on clinging to the things that cannot be shaken while letting go of all that can. I have been a sincere, diligent student of the Bible for over forty years. In spite of all that, I don’t think I have ever felt a more compelling desire to immerse myself in the Word and be conformed to it. I pray everyone in Christ’s true church will find the same passion. With everything that is happening in the world these days, I am reminded that there is an examination coming, perhaps soon, that we don’t want to fail.