Right or Wrong

As a K-12 music teacher I have heard a creative assortment of reasons for the poor choices my students make. I am certain that I haven't heard them all, but my students have used everything from "I didn't know that would happen," to "it seemed like a good idea at the time," to "you didn't tell me I couldn't," to "how could I resist?" And the list goes on. There are moments when I have to give credit for creativity, and other moments when I have to give grace for true ignorance. However, there are some excuses that are really no excuse at all. The one that really gets my goat goes something like this;

"I didn't mean to do it."

 Let's suspend the probable reality surrounding the majority of these situations and assume that this statement--"I didn't mean to do it"--is actually true. My first reaction to this excuse (at least internally if not actually spoken to the perpetrator) is a very simple question. "What did you mean to do?"
What I have found is that there are a frightening number of people in our world (most likely every one of us has been guilty of this at some point in our lives) who honestly don't mean to do bad things, yet somehow find themselves doing those very things anyway. We don't mean to hurt people. We don't mean to lie. We don't mean to talk about people behind their back. We don't mean to steal. No one starts out their life thinking, "I am going to go out and make a series of poor choices that will lead down a path of irresponsible and destructive living." We don't mean to do it!
But what do we mean to do?
My students can tell me until they are blue in the face that they don't mean to behave poorly, but that doesn't mean a thing to me until they can tell me what they are trying to do to live rightly and to make good choices. As humans it is in our nature to follow a pattern. Given the choice between right and wrong, wrong is almost always the easiest, most enticing, most natural direction for us to move. Therefore, if we do not mean to do the right thing--working at it, striving for it--we will automatically do the wrong thing...whether we mean to or not. There is no neutral ground. We are either trudging forward or we are running or falling backward. The slope is too slippery to simply stand still and hope we won't get dirty. If we don't fight in the battle, we are guaranteed to lose.
I don't pretend for a moment that any one of us can live perfectly right by trying in our own effort to do so. Some times our perception of right is distorted so that even in trying to do right we do the other thing (speaking from unfortunate and painful experience). We can't possibly be mindful of every facet of right and wrong. While trying to do right in one area we will slip up in another.
I don't expect perfection from my students. I expect effort. I expect them to fight within themselves for what is right and good. It won't be perfect.
Only one perfect person has ever walked this earth. He has offered his help, and his is the only help that can truly get us moving toward the ultimate goal of perfect rightness. Until we get there, however, we're going to make some mistakes...even though we don't mean to.

Empty Idols

Over the last few weeks I've been doing more and more time-wasting activities. I like to call them "relaxing entertainment". What this entertainment ultimately produces in me is two things, an increased desire for junk food (of which I have little to begin with), and a progressively decreasing interest in anything productive (ie. worthwhile or life giving). I even become less interested in getting out and interacting with real people!
I see this happening, and I notice myself moving deeper and deeper into this lifeless void; this idol I have established in my own home. Yet it seems so harmless. I do my work, so don't I deserve this little treat? It's my time to use how I wish. At least I'm not pursuing any gross immorality.
And so, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day I draw closer to the altar I have built with my own hands, and I sacrifice my life--giving my very soul to this powerless god.
What, you might ask, is my reward for such devotion? Perhaps a few good laughs and a couple stories to share. More likely, a few pounds gained (though most people seem to think I could do with a few more pounds), a growing distaste for sweets, and an increasing resentment toward myself.
In the few moments I manage to pull myself away from the altar I am able to see just how much I am wasting my life and recognize the fact that I am simply trying to fill an inner void. I am thirsty; parched to the point of dehydration and desperation. In my thirst I am turning to a broken cistern; a cracked vessel to retrieve from it the last remaining drops of water...and those drops are salty. Driven by my growing desire for satisfaction and fulfillment, I continue to use the same broken glass to bring what liquid I can to my emotionally emaciated body.
I see this happening, and I grow sick of myself.
Of course I have an overabundance of good excuses. My personal favorite is the most simple, "I can do that other stuff later. It doesn't have to be done right now. Just a little bit more entertainment and then I'll get back to work." That is precisely how I seal the deal. As soon as I have subtly suggested the idea that whatever else I might have in mind to do is "work", I have a reason not to do it. "I work all day. I should take a break from all that work in the evenings and on the weekends. Don't I do enough as it is? I deserve this." And as simple as that, I am sold. Back to the altar I go to have my life siphoned like a gas tank.
Because that is really how I feel when I finally pull myself away. Rather than feeling rested and prepared to take on whatever the world is aiming to throw at me, I feel even more drained and weary than I was before approaching the altar.
Only just this afternoon did I finally come to a point in my deprivation that I was able to see what I was doing for what it truly was--a vain attempt at filling my own emptiness with a big, shiny jar of nothing. That realization has made all the difference in just a few hours. The result has been quite enjoyable and something I can look back on and say, "well done, Michael. I am much more proud to be you now than I was at the beginning of the day."
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go approach the altar of the one true God where I know he holds an extra measure of grace for those who humbly come to him in their brokenness. And where I am promised to find a fountain of living water to quench my thirst and satisfy my soul.