It is a very weird thing finding out your usually reliable Dad, doesn’t know.
My Dad never held himself up as the standard of all truth. Indeed, he is the best example I have seen of someone aware that there is so much more in life to learn. But back in the day, being small and all, Dad was the source of all knowledge. Realising Dad didn’t know, was quite something. What helped, to be fair, was his humility. I got over it in time and accepted his example to take learning the truth seriously for myself.
Of course I could take it, because when he didn’t know, at least the church we went to would know. At least they could get it right. After all, we were the church that got it right where the others got it wrong. So you can imagine my surprise when a few questions popped up that the church had answers to, which were … wrong.
Yes. I said it. They got it wrong. I remember hearing the answer and getting a feeling it wasn’t quite right and later, following my Dad’s example, in searching for the truth, I discovered in some areas they got it wrong. Not horrifically wrong. Not blasphemy or heresy kinda wrong. But still wrong. Not only wrong, but steadfast in its wrongly ways. Sometimes wrong in a way that hurt others and messed up people’s lives.
That was a surprise. But the best was yet to come. I was in the first year at university. My first year away from the comfort of home. My first year of engaging with folks of vastly different backgrounds on a different level to what I had previously experienced in my Christian bubble. I made a few friends and got on well with them for a while. Then one of them behaved in a way that I felt needed correcting and who better to give the correction than me.
I ventured to do so, only to come across resistance and rejection as if I had done something wrong. Me! Of all people. The one who was saving the day by sharing truth. I was the one in the wrong??? Me??
Yes. Yes I was. I was horrendously misguided. I was hugely at fault. My actions ruined a perfectly decent relationship all because I was wrong. Sadly I figured it out too late to rebuild the friendship (sorry again, Helen). It was good, though for me to experience this, so I could appreciate more starkly than before, that I don’t have it all right. I get it wrong. Sure I can mean well, but still get it wrong. So it’s worth being humble enough to accept that and be willing to learn and adjust in the light of godly insight from others who can correct. Whose way of life offers much from which I can learn and mature.
As I was to later (and lately) discover, that voyage of discovery is not just something that needs to take place on an individual basis.
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
C. L. J. Dryden
Life With CD 