Blameshifting Becomes Us

My granddaughter and her friend were visiting today. While hiding from "Papa" on the stairs, she accidentally hit the switch on her uncle's stair chair lift, causing the chair to head up the stairs. Jumping up, I ran over to help.

"Did you hit the switch?" I asked. With her eyes huge, Raechel said, "She pushed me into it!" Not really caring about the incidentals, I told her, "It doesn't matter how it happened. Nobody is in trouble."

Yet, she persisted in trying to absolve herself of the offense.

"I said it doesn't matter how it happened, just that it did. I'm not mad and no one is in trouble." Again excuses flowed and she became more and more adamant that I should know all the details.

I finally told her, "You aren't in trouble because the chair moved but if you keep talking when I told you to stop, you will be in big trouble, little missy." And she began to cry.

I soothed her and tried to explain to this five-year-old about passing the buck and accepting responsibility for our own actions. She finally understood (I think!) and we went about our afternoon.

I was struck by the fact that even young children are especially adept at blameshifting. Is it something they learn or are they born with it? Why are they so reluctant to admit when they've done something wrong or, in the case of an accident, still just as reluctant? As I asked the questions, I knew immediately that God was trying to give me my own message and He wasn't going to let me off the hook.

How often do I rush to excuses and blameshifting when all He wants me to do is acknowledge my action to Him? The answer is "Too often." The reality is I think He will send me to time out or shove me aside, refusing to love me. It seems silly to think I can focus His attention on somebody else instead of me, maybe get them in trouble to save my own backside. But no, God always gathers me in His arms and gently explains the way He wants me to act. His goal is restoration -- mine is protecting myself by getting His focus on someone else. Various scenes began to roll through my mind.

"She started it by gossiping. Why am I in trouble for just repeating what I heard?"

"He's the one who had a bad day. He came home griping and complaining so why is it my fault that I'm short-tempered and cranky?"

"Of course I didn't get my Bible reading done today. Did you see the mess the kids left for me to clean up?"

And on and on, ad nauseum. It's always someone else's fault, isn't it? I must admit that sometimes, I think blameshifting becomes me. Like a blouse, I can put it on and convince myself that I look really good as long as I'm wearing it. It sure seems to fit me well. And, as long as I look good, does anything else matter?

I guess I must think God didn't see everything, that He turned His attention away, giving the culprit ample time to get ME in trouble. I forget that His focus is my heart, not who did what to whom. My mind is so busy with self-preservation (hmmmm, now that's interesting term!) and compiling my list of "reasons" (i.e., excuses) that I fail to be vulnerable before God. I am so busy running my mouth against accusations that never come that I don't hear what God is saying to me.

Today was just one more piece of evidence that I, too, refuse to shut my mouth and listen to what God wants to say.

It was also one more bit of proof that a good defense might seem like the best offense at the time but ultimately, when I strip away all the excuses, I am left with only me -- my actions, my thoughts, my heart. And I discovered I want to be willing to see only those things before God has to try to get my attention. That's the perfect time for me to be lovingly gathered in His arms, comforted, loved and restored -- running to Him immediately instead of being sent to "time out" to think about it.

Which brings to mind another incident that happened today (whew! lots of lessons!). Jason, the 15-month-old my daughter babysits, was having a bit of a pity party. When my daughter asked him if he needed a "time out", without a sound, he stood up and planted himself in the "time out" spot here at my house (yes, I have one here and all the kids know where it is!). She didn't send him there but, even at 15 months old, he knew he needed it. I could see his little face and his little pouty mouth and my heart and arms ached to pull him close, cuddle him and whisper in his ear, "You are so precious to me!".

You see, Jason needed that self-imposed "time out". When he felt like he was done, he got up and came over to my daughter with his arms stretched out. She picked him up and, within minutes, everything was fine. This darling little boy was smiling and laughing and playing again. Restored.

I, too, sometimes take my own self-imposed "time out". I, too, need time to think about what I'm doing wrong. I, too, sometimes require time to sift through my defensiveness and excuses so I can see what it is that God wants to change in order to get to the place where I can come to Jesus, stretch up my arms and be lifted into His.

Please don't misunderstand, He never sends me away from Himself to "think about it." He would much rather I agree with Him quickly and avoid the whole process of "time out". And, with these lessons fresh in my mind, I'm certain that agreeing with Him quickly is the best way to go!

Get Out Of The Boat!

I've been looking at photos from Israel and thinking about the day we spent on the Sea of Galilee. Letting my mind wander, I see myself enjoying the fresh air and the splash of spray as I cruise around the Sea of Life, waving to friends. Life is good and I am free. The outboard engine hums as I travel effortlessly, bouncing across waves, traveling along with no particular destination. These are the times I am strong, ready to help others on the sea who are in need. I have my owner's manual and can walk them through the troubleshooting process, often enabling them to get their own vessel going again. Sometimes I have to pull them aboard my ship, giving them a ride to safety. I don't mind, really. After all, they've usually lost their oars and, without me, they would be marooned. Unfortunately, there are those who think my craft is better somehow and they don't want to disembark. Even when I remind them I am only able to carry them for a little bit, they hunker down and lash themselves in. And we begin to take on water. Soon, my focus is on the swamping of my boat and my strength fails. “Look, there's Jesus, walking on the water! Get out of my boat! Get out and go to Him!” I cry, now in need of rescue almost as much as they. It makes me want to shove them overboard.

And then there are days I simply slip into a quiet cove, cut the engine and am still, soaking up the sun and the sounds of nature. The gently slap of water against the hull is calming. The breeze gently falling across my face as my arm languishes over the side, tickling the chilly water with my fingertips. Jesus comes to me in those coves, whispering on the gentle wind, stirring a tiny zephyr, making His presence known. In the cove, I find refreshing, revitalizing rest.

And then there are days my motor will not start – no matter how much priming I do. I am often stranded in the middle of the sea. Frantically, I search for my oars, thinking I can get myself to safety. They are never in the boat when I need them. It's as though they simply disappear. Sometimes the sea is dead calm and fear creeps in. I am so alone, other boats so far in the distance, unaware of my predicament. There is nothing for me to do but pray. I am uncomfortable surrounded by nothing but blue. In the calm, I can hear His voice across the water, “Be still, I am coming.”

And then there are days, this is only the calm before the storm. A raging storm looms and is upon me even before I can batten down the hatches. I hear nothing but the howl of the wind the roar of thunder. I see nothing, sporadically blinded by lightning, as the rain beats down and the waves crash and break over my vessel, which has suddenly become so insignificant. My heart fails and I lose hope. But those are the days He comes walking on the water, just the same for me as for those I sent His way when my boat was capsizing. Those are the days His voice rises over the clamor and I hear Him say, “Get out of the boat and walk with Me.” I search the horizon for Him. There He is, visible even in the tumult. “Keep your eyes on Me.” Those are the days that, even in the midst of a trial, I can walk on the water with Him and hope is restored. There are only two things I must do – Keep my eyes on Him and get out of the boat! Why can't I remember that?