Many years ago, during my secondary school days, whenever a teacher stood in front of the class explaining something and used an example of how not to behave, the reaction was almost predictable. If the teacher said, for instance, “A student who does not take his studies seriously…” someone would immediately call out the name of a classmate. Sometimes, the teacher would be writing on the board and the class would already be pointing fingers at someone. We found it funny. It was just part of the fun of being in class.
But looking back now, with age and maturity, I have come to realise that what we did then is not very different from how many of us relate with life today.
Put us in a congregation where someone is preaching about dishonesty, pride, unforgiveness, anger, laziness or poor character, and what happens? Rather than asking, “Is there something in me that needs to change?” our minds can quickly begin searching for someone else who needs to hear the message.
We hear the message, but we assign it to somebody else.
The preacher talks about a husband who needs to do better, and the wife immediately thinks of her husband. He speaks about a wife who needs to change, and the husband is mentally taking notes. Someone talks about a difficult employee, and the employer remembers a particular staff member. Someone speaks about an ungrateful child, and a parent immediately has a name in mind.
But what if, sometimes, the message is actually for us?
The Bible puts it plainly: before trying to remove the speck in another person’s eye, we should first deal with the log on our own. There is something deeply uncomfortable about that instruction because it forces us to look inward.
There is also a Yoruba expression that captures this reality beautifully: you cannot see your own back; it is another person who sees it. And perhaps that is the point. We are naturally positioned to see what is in front of us—including other people’s faults—while our own blind spots may require someone else to help us see them.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons personal growth can be difficult. It is much easier to identify what needs fixing in another person than to admit that something in us needs work.
We can listen to a message about patience and immediately think of someone who needs to be more patient. We can hear about pride and remember someone else’s behaviour. We can discuss forgiveness and wonder why another person has not forgiven us.
Yet, sometimes the most important question is not, “Who does this remind me of?” but “What does this reveal about me?”
Most people also speak from their areas of strength. We naturally present the parts of ourselves we are comfortable showing. Few people openly announce their struggles, insecurities, weaknesses and areas where they still need to grow. We often present the polished version of ourselves.
That can make self-examination even more difficult.
Sometimes, our inability to see our own weaknesses may even be connected to how we see ourselves. There are people who have become so invested in appearing strong, right or put-together that admitting they need improvement feels like an attack on their identity. Genuine growth, however, requires enough humility to say, “Perhaps there is something here that I need to work on.”
So, as we begin this week, I want to encourage you—and myself as well—to change the way we listen and observe.
When someone speaks, don’t be too quick to assign the message to somebody else. When something happens around you, don’t immediately ask who is at fault. When a situation exposes a weakness in another person, pause and ask whether it is also revealing something about you.
Not every message is about you. But every situation can teach you something.
Perhaps the goal is not simply to become better at identifying other people’s faults, but to become more honest about our own.
And if we can learn to do that, we may discover that some of the messages we once used to judge others were actually invitations for us to become better people.
Have a great week.