A few weeks ago I slowed to make the turn into my driveway. Braking to allow the garage door time to open its mouth for my entry, one of our neighbors was making his way down the sidewalk.
He paused. He stood at the bottom of my driveway. Once I exited the car, he said, “Your left brake light is out.”
I thanked him for letting me know. I had no idea. How would you know? It is something difficult to view from inside of a car.
If he hadn’t seen this. If he hadn’t taken time to let me know. It could have taken days, even weeks, before I became aware.
There are things in our life that if we don’t have caring people who let us know, how would we know?
We all have blind spots. We have areas of our life that we believe are fine. We cruise along with no indication we have a problem. What we need is a brave, caring person to tell us. We need them to alert us. To provide information and insight we may not have.
When the neighbor shared with me what I didn’t know. When he took time to inform me of something that would have been difficult to discover on my own. What I did not do is get defensive. Tell him to mind his own business. I’d be the one to determine if my brake light was out, or not.
How we respond to people? How we handle crisis. Insecurities. Rotten habits. Inappropriate reactions. Tactlessness. These can be blindspots.
Yet this is what we too often do to people who kindly point out our blindspots. We are embarrassed, contentious, and defensive. We can get so angry that we refuse to simply address the issue that would make us better.
I can have a pretty biting sense of humor. In 1980 I was serving as an intern in a church. I was fresh out of my Master’s work. I was young and confident. Even though I had little experience in ministry I was pretty sure I knew almost all there was to know.
I was at our weekly staff meeting. There was some sharing about an individual who had just passed away. How something was said elicited in me a humorous thought, which I felt was necessary to share.
Later that day one of the Assistant Pastors pulled me aside. He, first, affirmed my humor as a gift. Then he kindly, and clearly, help me understand the appropriateness of humor. It could be a strength, or it could be weakness that would undermine my ministry.
I am forever grateful to Pastor Chuck Edwards taking the time to point out a blind spot. I was a bit embarrassed. But now, four decades later, his admonition has served me well.
How would you know? When you are open to caring people. Who want the best for you. You accept what they tell you with graciousness and gratitude.