This Ain't That

“They’re just jealous.”

For years, that was the excuse I used every time I was challenged, questioned, or met resistance.

“They’re just jealous.”

For years, that was the passport I pulled out to explain my shortcomings and failures.

“They’re just jealous.”

For years, that was the strategy I employed to defend my ego, deflect responsibility and diminsh accountability for my actions.

And for years, it worked. Until one afternoon, it didn’t.

I was called into an impromptu meeting by one of my mentors, who had been hearing complaints about several of the decisions that I made at the church that he had sent me to lead. I had invited him to preach. After the service, my “detractors” invited him into my office and then invited him to reconsider his decision to appoint me as Pastor. Stunned by the audacity and angered by the cowardice of their ploy, I walked into the office.

I watched my mentor carefully. He listened patiently, nodded perceptively, and then told them that he would consider their concerns and then inform them of whatever actions he thought was necessary to ease the tensions that had developed—but that he was sure I was the right man for the job. As I watched him maneuver, I smiled and gloated inwardly, assuming that his response signaled that I had triumphed. Assured of my victory, I uttered an unrepeatable phrase under my breath as they left and immediately shared my unsolicited view of the entire affair with my mentor. “They’re just jealous.”

As those words hung in the air, my mentor sat silently for what seemed to be an eternity. And they he looked at me for what felt like two eternities and then said very quietly, “Joe, everybody ain’t jealous.” And then he walked out.

His quiet words exploded like a volcano in my spirit, and shattered my ego into a thousand pieces. Several days later, my mentor called me and let me have it, and told me of several changes that I would have to make. The truth was that I had messed up. The truth was that I failed to see the legitimacy of their concerns. And the truth was I was guilty of what is called false attribution. Some people may have been jealous of me at one time. But this was not one of them. I had made several unwise decisions. And the sooner I admitted it, the better off I would be.

According to one definition, false attribution is when we misattribute a cause to an effect. False attribution is when we utilize irrelevant or biased factors to account for our decisions or behaviors. False attribution is a species of fundamental attribution error, which is a cognitive bias “that occurs when people attribute others' behaviors to their personality, while attributing their own behaviors to external factors.” Either type has the same objective: to protect our ego at all costs by avoiding responsibility for the role we play in the decisions we make and the resulting outcomes. But as my mentor reminded me, this ain’t always that.

When confronted with the results of our choices, it takes maturity to admit our full responsibility without seeking refuge in our favorite excuses. This is what David did in 2 Samuel 12:13. He had committed adultery, killed a man, and then covered it up. When the prophet Nathan confronted David with God’s displeasure of his actions, David simply said “I have sinned.” He did not blame anything or anyone else. He owned it. Completely.

Here’s today’s question(s): To what do you most frequently (and falsely) attribute your bad decisions and negative outcomes? What is the excuse you most often use when you are challenged, questioned, or meet resistance? What is the passport you most often pull out to explain your shortcomings and failures?What is the strategy you most often employ to defend your ego, deflect responsibility and diminish accountability for your actions?

Well, this may not be that. Own your actions. Completely. The sooner you do, the better off you will be.