“A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying in other words that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.”
– Alexander Pope (Leaves of Gold, pg. 62)
I have learned much as a married man, from the mentorship of others and from my own experience as well. Like many who enjoy marital bliss, I have learned the power of three little words. You might immediately think that I mean the words “I love you.” Those words are indeed essential to a thriving marriage. However, the three little words I have in mind are, “I was wrong,” words which not only foster a better marriage, but better relationships all around.
Those words can be very hard to say, which is curious given their simplicity. Three words, three syllables, nine letters total, with two spaces and a period to complete the sentence: what could be less complicated than that? Yet like the iconic character Arthur Fonzarelli from the sitcom Happy Days, the words often get stuck in our throat. Why? My guess (and it’s probably better than a guess) is that pride has much to do with it. At times we make judgments based on bad or incomplete information. We allow emotions and personal preferences to affect our actions. These and other ingredients are part of our human reality, and they create a recipe that delivers a steady diet of “crow” upon which we are forced to feast.
To admit being wrong feels like our reputation is being tarnished. But is that really the case? Should it be? I don’t think so. The reality is that every one of us have made mistakes, the varieties of which are too numerous to explore here. The inability to say “I was wrong” reveals more about our character than about our judgment. Certainly we desire to minimize mistakes; that is simply being prudent. But to habitually resist admitting mistakes is a sign that pride rather than wisdom is prevailing in our spirit. Proverbs 16:18 says that “pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” The inability to admit a mistake reveals the more serious flaw in our character.
At sixty two years of age, I have many more years behind me than I do in front of me. That doesn’t mean I’m finished. If the Lord gives grace, I may still have a full generation of life ahead, every day of which providing a new opportunity to learn and reevaluate what I presume to know. There are some things about which I am highly confident of being right, having given the matters significant thought and weighing considerable evidence. Who knows? It is entirely possible that I could be proven wrong about even these things. Hopefully I will maintain enough modesty to admit being wrong, whenever that happens. After all, what could possibly be bad about being wiser today than I was yesterday?
See you along the Winding Path.
The Winding Path 