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Bill Robinson, Whitworth College
September 8, 2004
In my years at Whitworth, I've talked a lot about grace and truth. Last
year in opening convocation, I expressed my hope that Whitworth would
become famous for grace and truth. I said something about longing for
the day I would overhear some guy in restaurant argue, "Sure, Gonzaga
has a good basketball team, but how about that grace and truth up there
at Whitworth?" It hasn't happened yet. It might up the odds if I
could get Jeff, over at Bruchi's, to offer the Whitworth Grace-and-Truth
Chicken Cheesesteak sandwich.
Anyway, I'm going to keep pounding away at grace and truth. We are first
and foremost a community of scholarship. And Whitworth cannot be great
if we in any way relax our scholarly pursuit of truth. But the best hope
for truth to penetrate our hearts and minds arises when truth is cradled
in grace.
As I mentioned last year, the apostle John singled out two characteristics
to describe Jesus. "The word became flesh and dwelt among us, and
this is what we saw -- grace and truth." I think John saw both
grace and truth because one doesn't work without the other. Grace without
truth is not grace at all. Failing to warn a friend whose grades spiral
downward while he wastes hours playing video games, or worse, is not grace.
A wife allowing her husband to hurt her, and to hurt himself, by not declaring
the truth of that hurt is not grace. Permitting bad behavior is not grace.
But truth without grace tramples that which it seeks to enlighten. It
isn't the truth that hurts. It's the cold-hearted way we often proclaim
it. Scolding or shaming a person away from some kind of danger might make
you feel good, but it do you really think it works? When's the
last time you said, "Oh, so if I don't take your warning I'm stupid.
That's very helpful. Good call. Thank you. I'll change my ways."?
Speak the truth in love. Exude grace. And don't ever confuse truth with
your opinion. Truth is, and it can be known, but you have not
been appointed as its Northwest distributor. I'll say more about truth
in a moment.
Sometimes grace and truth are hard to sort out. Two weeks ago I got a
call from our son in Cairo, Egypt. He mentioned reading a book I wrote
on leadership as he returned to Egypt this summer. Here's the essence
of his grace and truth: "Hey dad, I read your book while I was in
Sweden." Although the book came out a couple of years ago, that he
read it at all was definitely grace. "Yeah, I would have really liked
it...." Now, this is a sure sign that truth is on its way. "I
would have really liked it if I were remotely interested in the subject."
A little too much truth here. "But it was well written." Definitely
grace. "And I liked the parts about me." Definitely truth.
Grace and truth turn out to be a bit easier to talk about than to live.
So this morning I'm going to suggest to you a grace-and-truth enabler,
a virtue that puts grace and truth within reach. But first I have a few
more ideas on truth.
There are many things we call "true." We use the word loosely.
We whip it out when talking about things that we can't really prove. We've
done it since we were kids: "My dad can take your dad." "Yeah,
what makes you think so?" "Because it's true." This truth
is not in the same category as, for example, the great Newtonian law that
reads, "apples fall downward."
Generally, we think of truth in absolute terms. It used to bother me
when people would attach modifiers to the word "true." Absolutes
need no modifier. Ironically, we often modify absolutes with the word
"absolutely." What's the difference between perfect and absolutely
perfect? Perfect is perfect. What's the difference between essential and
"absolutely essential?" Essential is essential. So, what do
we mean when we use the phrase, "absolutely true?" True is true.
Generally, we try to make something extra true when that truth
is known through inference rather than through direct observation. To
infer is to draw a conclusion on the basis of evidence. To observe is
to witness a fact. I observe that the United States basketball team lost
three games in the Olympics. I infer the United States basketball team
did not have the best players. My inference requires argument, my observation
requires only the sports pages.
Other kinds of truth also exist. For example, as student-researchers
you pursue those undiscovered natural laws that have not yet been observed
or inferred. Einstein's theory of relativity was true before anyone had
discovered or inferred its truth. You Core 250 veterans know that Aristotle
majored in those observational truths, the empirical ones. And then, of
course, Plato taught us that we have truths -- ideals as he called them
-- deeply embedded within our rationale, perfect justice, perfect love,
"Happy wife, happy life." Truths like that.
It seems to me that the kind of truth in most desperate need of grace
is this truth we infer, the truth based more on evidence than on observation
or natural law. It is the kind of truth most honestly expressed when introduced
by "I believe": I believe my candidate would outperform the
other candidate. I believe your silence was because you wanted to hurt
me. I believe you are in a bad relationship. I believe that my theology
is true.
Grace is needed with this kind of truth because we have a tendency to
cheat when we express it. We cheat when we treat these truths based on
evidence as if they were facts. For example, the statements, "Kerry
isn't committed to fighting terrorism" or "Bush doesn't care
about the poor" are inferences, and to try to pass them off as facts
is offensive and wrong.
Being honest and filled with grace in these inferential beliefs in no
way means that you are clinging to a weak truth. In fact, the apostle
Paul wrote to the church in Corinth that the things we can observe are
temporal, but eternal truths are not subject to observation.
Here's an example. A young woman named Lauren Winner has written a couple
of very interesting books, Girl Meets God and Mudhouse Sabbath.
A straight-A student at Columbia and Cambridge, Winner converted from
Orthodox Judaism to Christianity. In a recent interview,* she shows how
powerful inferred truth can be. Listen to her describe one aspect of her
conversion from Judaism to Christianity:
...for many of my friends, there was this sense that I was merely making
a cultural decision. If that were the case, why was I making this cultural
decision that was causing so much pain to my family? Which would be
a very legitimate question if the premise were true.... One of my Jewish
friends put this best when she said, "Look Lauren, at some point
you started to think the whole Jesus thing was true, so what choice
did you have?"
Winner did not see Jesus or speak directly to him. As a scholar in American
religion, her intellectual examination of Christianity led her to the
conclusion that "the whole Jesus thing is true." But she verified
her conclusion with a step of faith, allowing her to experience that
truth. The truth we reach by believing the evidence rather than by direct
observation can be every bit as compelling as 2+2=4 truth.
So, how can we become filled with grace as we debate politics, religion
and other inferential truths? What is the virtue that enables grace? It
is the same virtue that empowers great leaders, drives great scholars,
shapes great relationships and unlocks the power of God in our lives.
It is humility. Not a sappy, whiney humility that blithers, "Oh,
everyone else is great and I stink." But a humility that recognizes
that I do not have all the answers, I do not have all the gifts, I am
not always charming, I do not have Olympic potential, and I cannot do
life by myself.
I wouldn't blame you if right now you are thinking, "I'm 20 years
old, I've had self-esteem shoved down my throat since I was five, and
I'm bulletproof. Now I'm supposed to be humble?" Yes. You do need
to be humble, and it's not easy. I spoke at a conference this summer in
which I made the observation that both confidence and humility are needed
in leadership. An African-American woman responded to my statement along
the lines of "That's easy for you to say, but for a black woman,
humility is seen as weakness."
I am sure there is truth to this woman's experience, but so often the
perception that humility equals weakness is wrong. In fact, the evidence
suggests that humility unlocks the door to strength and greatness. A few
years ago, after doing a bunch of reading and writing on leadership, I
read what Jim Collins, a 21st century leadership titan, discovered in
his research. After sifting through more than 1,500 companies that had
appeared on the Fortune 500 over a 30-year period, he found 11 matched
pairs that met two sets of criteria. Half the companies had gone from
good to great, and half had made no such move. The characteristic Collins
cited as most dominant in the leaders of the companies achieving greatness
was a blend of extreme personal humility and intense professional will.
Humility enabled these leaders to invest in the strength of their teammates,
yield their personal desires to the mission of the company, and give rather
than grab credit. In two-thirds of the other companies, Collins found
leaders with gargantuan egos.
Humility began its rescue mission of Bill Robinson 20+ years ago. About
10 years after we graduated, my best friend from college made a remark
that he probably doesn't even remember. In a rather matter-of-fact way,
he said, "Your problem is that you think you have to be better than
everybody at everything." Ouch! I didn't know anyone had noticed.
Proudly, stubbornly and stupidly, I was bankrupting the gifts that I did
have while exhausting myself trying to outdo people in areas where I was
genetically inept. My immodesty had blinded me. But as I began to make
peace with my inadequacies and limits, my eyes began to open. My dad was
wrong, my coach was wrong, and Horatio Alger was wrong. I could not
do anything I wanted to do or be anything that I wanted to be even if
I really put my mind to it. But I could take the gifts that God had given
me, work hard to develop them, and grow beyond the limitations imposed
by this frenzied and scattered effort to be good at everything, an effort
that was diverting me from my strengths and distracting me from God's
call. Moreover -- and this was so liberating and live-giving -- accepting
my limits allowed me to escape those endless, jealous, self-centered comparisons
and to enjoy utterly the achievements of others.
In an intellectual community, the temptation rises to snap our suspenders
when we grasp great ideas. But no less a genius than Albert Einstein wrote,
"A spirit is manifest in the laws of the universe, in the face of
which we, with our modest powers, must feel humble."
You will never tap your potential if you lack the humility to listen
to those who council, if you lack the humility to learn from those who
teach, if you lack the humility to depend on those who support, if you
lack the humility to trust in those who care, if you lack the humility
to give God the credit for your gifts, and if you lack the humility to
find joy in the success of your friends.
I apologize for not having a little more zip in my remarks today. It's
hard to make humility come across as inspiring or sexy. But let me close
with my top 10 random thoughts on why humility is worth pursuing.
10) You will be a better and more driven scholar if humbly you admit
what you don't know more than you boast about what you do
know.
9) Your confidence will rise in direct proportion to your humility,
as you marshal the resources you don't have and strengthen the resources
that you do have.
8) You will be so much less boring if we don't have to listen to how
good you are.
7) You will extend grace to others if humbly you keep in mind how much
grace has been extended to you.
6) You will be a more effective leader if humility allows you to see
areas where others' gifts are greater than what you have to offer.
5) You will be pleasing to God if it humbles you to realize that the
Christian scriptures say more about the danger of pride than they do
about evangelism, lying, tithing, going to church, homosexuality, and
reading your Bible all put together. It is no coincidence that the question
Satan used to bring down humanity was "Hey, garden people, wanna
be as smart as God?"
4) You will be more like the humble Jesus of humble lineage, humble
birthplace, humble family, humble lifestyle, humble foot-washing, humble
death on a humble cross, humble tomb, humble resurrection and appearances,
and humble farewell to his humble band of friends: "I'm going to
my father now, he's greater than I am."
3) You'll realize that the Bible is right: God's strength is made perfect
in our weakness
2) You will be empowered through a spirit of humility will to reach
heights that the proud will never know: As C.S. Lewis said, "A
proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course,
as long as you're looking down, you can't see something that's above
you."
1) and the number one reason why you should be humble?
Because if you're humble, then you'll be cool, like me.
Have a great semester.
*Interview in The Door, July/August,
2004
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