|In the end, there can be only one.|
See me under the magnolia tree for more stories about cigars and trashcans and holding hands.
|And get comfortable. I have a lot of them.|
"Thyself, boys. Know thyself." It's one of a number of lessons that stuck with me across the years.
I have a good understanding of what motivates me, what my priorities are, and how I exist in the world. It's a fairly clear and detailed mental picture.
As I'm pushing 40 ("pushing?"), I'm starting to wonder if I know myself at all. I don't mean this in a "mid-life crisis I need to take up base jumping right now or else" kind of way. Rather, I mean I sometimes feel like there may be some people who know me a lot better than I do. I know Lisa does. And I'm starting to wonder if my kids do too. That has to be why Wesley suggested fireworks for the week-long celebration of my life that is to take place after I am run over by a beer truck on Ponce.
|That is a hard no.|
Listening is probably a good place to start. Paying attention to the people who know me the best. Thinking through actions and consequences and patterns of behavior. Most importantly, maintaining a willingness to admit flaws and errors. Not to accept them as permanent reality, but to begin the long process of changing them.
As we draw near to Holy Week, we will no doubt be reminded of the story of Peter, who claimed he would follow Jesus even to death, only to deny him just as Jesus predicted. I so often think of myself like Peter did. Energetic and righteous and fervent. But my actions sometimes paint a very different picture, just as Peter's did.
There's good news, of course. Easter is coming, and with it grace and forgiveness. But neither grace nor forgiveness change who we are. Better, and worse. Maybe knowing ourselves really just means thinking neither too much of ourselves...or too little.