One of the colossal mysteries of life is the ease with which most humans find fault with themselves. I include myself in that number. It’s even easier for people to point out the frailties of others, maybe because it makes them feel better about themselves and their own weaknesses. In the economy of the world, we’ve lost track of what it means to outdo one another in showing honor.
I have been the recipient, on several occasions, of someone saying, “Oh, I was just kidding,” after delivering a hurtful, damaging statement, as if kidding heals the cut. Just for the record, so you’ll know, your children will know, and your children’s children to the fourth generation will know, “I’m just kidding” is always a lie. What if we deliberately chose to live by Romans 12:8 (ESV): “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves”? Those words are simple yet profound. How often do we purposely take the time to tell others that we recognize a specific strength or gift that sets them apart from the rest of the world?
I’ve done this a few times lately, and I get fascinating responses: either they shut me down because they fear being vulnerable to encouragement or are surprised anyone would notice something good about them, or they are confounded and embarrassed because it’s much easier to believe the bad. After all, the bad far outweighs the good. I sometimes get the feeling they think I have some sort of untrustworthy agenda for encouraging them.
Over the years, I have taken an insightful personality inventory called Servants by Design. I say “over the years” deliberately. I’ve taken the inventory several times and even tried to occasionally cheat. I come up with the same results every time. According to the assessment, there are six distinct floors to our house. The original floors were Achiever, Persister, Catalyzer, Dreamer, Harmonizer, and Energizer. The names have been changed in recent years, and now they are Thinker, Persister, Promoter, Imaginer, Harmonizer, and Rebel. Everyone has all six of these personality types, but there is one dominant trait that is your default. It will always be your ground-floor level. You can move up into other floors, but you can only stay there for a while before you return to your foundation to recharge. Guess which trait is my dominant? Rebel! Someone wondered if that label made rebels sound like mischievous rascals. I said, “Not if you’re a rebel.” Then again, maybe it does. I’m good with that.
We all have specific strengths. If we are aware of them, they can help us experience the unique way we were created and how our strengths influence one another. These strengths are based on positive human functioning rather than behaviors that need repair.
Ironically, any of the six traits I could use for making money, such as Achiever, Persister, and Promoter, are top floors of my personality house—like way up there in the attic. On the unwise occasion I try to settle in one of those areas, I quickly scamper down to my foundation of Rebel and marinate there for a while.
My prayer is that understanding the areas of my giftedness that bring me life will help me enhance the lives of those I come in contact with and those who travel this journey of life alongside me.
Even though I want to use my gifts for good, I find the foundational problem of being good persists.
A few years ago, I worked under a supervisor at a church who gave evaluations regularly. There were several categories to discuss, with ratings from 1 to 10. When I went in for my first evaluation, he started the conversation by saying, “Just so you know, I will never give you a ten in any category, because if I do, you will never have room to grow.”
My immediate thought was Then why would I try?
If we want to see people and see ourselves thrive and grow, we accentuate the positive. I have facilitated many Celebrate Recovery step-studies over the past twenty years. I’m telling you this not so you’ll see me as some sacrificial, ace superhero twelve-stepper. The fact is, in actuality, the more step-studies I do, the more I find places in my heart and mind where I need to grow.
A couple of items in one of the step-study participant guides get responses that never surprise me but intrigue me. One says, “Name the negative things you’ve done in your life.” In every study, the guys can write pages about the atrocities they have committed and the accompanying shame, guilt, fear, and consequences that come with those experiences.
It’s the next item, specifically designed to balance a participant’s inventory, that is interesting: “Name the good things you’ve done in your life.” Their responses are significantly shorter, and many times, the space provided is left entirely blank.
What do we consider good? Doing good, in many people’s lives, seems to mean significant, life-changing, world-shattering events. Believe it or not, God created this amazing, magnificent world full of good things that are not humongous.
I decided to come up with my own list of good things I’ve done. I read them to the guys before we read aloud our answers to those questions, so they may realize that good things in their lives can be moments of joy or beauty, a smile, or a remembered moment of peace.
Here’s my incomplete list of good things:
I have been to the South Island of New Zealand four times, where I sang backing vocals for the number-one-rated television show. I also sheared a sheep there. Not on the show. At my dear friends Jeff and Margie Rea’s farm. I won dance contests with gorgeous Maree Humphries. I have sung backup at the Grand Ole Opry. I have facilitated CR step-studies at churches and prisons, and in fact, I just finished my thirty-first step-study at a correctional unit. I have cooked lasagna and white chocolate bread pudding for inmates who are step-study graduates. I have baptized men whom society would deem unworthy. I have watched the lightbulb turn on as they work the program and realize that they are, in fact, worthy.
I pick up pennies. I have walked in the sand by ocean waves and watched a mile-wide moon rise from the horizon. I have rescued more abandoned dogs than I can count from living in the woods. I have held the hands of pet owners and cried with them as their precious pets have been put to sleep.
I have seen the dirt-floored cinder-block homes of families in Brazil. I’ve seen the dirt-floored hovel where my father was born in Texas. I’ve held my father’s hand and told him I loved him, and most importantly, I meant it, even though his expression told me he couldn’t remember me.
I’ve planted trees. I’ve hugged my friends and family. I’ve cooked great meals for them. I’ve hugged my dogs. I had two speaking lines in an Academy Award–winning film. I’ve learned the beauty of listening well. I have consciously chosen integrity over gossip. I’ve forgiven and been forgiven.
I’ve sought God and listened for his voice. And I’ve oftentimes heard him. I’ve kept quiet when I could have given a great answer. I have learned not to give advice unless explicitly asked. I’ve learned and am learning the eternal value of speaking words of life, not words of death. I have learned there is no in-between.
I’ve paid bills on time. I’ve read great books and watched great movies. I’ve played Boo Radley twice in To Kill a Mockingbird. I played the role of C. S. Lewis in Shadowlands. I portrayed Polycarp, one of the first Christian martyrs, in a Good Friday production.
I’ve spent quality time with Jesus. I’ve learned that he is profoundly crazy about me. I’ve moved toward community instead of isolation. I have deliberately chosen kindness over revenge. I have learned and am learning to accept compliments. I’ve made tithing a habit and watched the Lord perform miracle after miracle through that discipline.
I’ve learned to accept others as much as they are able to give and not put expectations on them to respond to me as I think they should. I’ve learned to respond and not react. I’ve learned and am learning to use my gifts exactly how the Lord created me and stop wishing I was in possession of someone else’s.
I have grudgingly and finally come to grips with the fact that I will never be a half-pipe gold medal snowboarder or an Olympic figure skater. I’ve learned that God made the earth not for me to enjoy but for his glory. And he lets me enjoy it for his glory.
I’ve learned to receive well and to give in private.
I’ve learned that Jesus loves me. This I know. Yes, the Bible tells me so. But so does Jesus. I have learned that Jesus is everything. I’ve learned that if I look closely, I can see him in everything.
Jesus provided the most potent character theme in history. It was not weakness that held Jesus to the cross; it was his strength. His unparalleled, matchless power.
I say Romans 12:10 (NIV) often to remind myself of the following: “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.”
The next two verses may encompass one of the most compelling commands in the Bible: “Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle” (Romans 12:11–12 NIV).
Good manifests itself differently from person to person in any given experience. Love from the center of who you are. As impossible as it sometimes appears, find the good. Do good.
Jesus is the center. You can rest there.
