Two Rights Don't Make A Right

I see my life as a series of seasons, each with its own themes, decorations, sounds and thoughts. Entering this season, I prayed that I would truly come to learn, understand and embrace humility. Now part of that is learning to look at myself in an honest light, thinking neither too highly or too lowly of me. In fact, I think it's more about learning to think of me less.

Learning humility takes on many forms, but in my case, it has involved realizing that my own talents and efforts are not always sufficient. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try and how well-equipped I may be, I fail. I think I tend to withhold effort in most of my endeavors so that I always have the mental excuse that I could have avoided failure "if I'd REALLY tried." Sad to say, I have discovered that I can REALLY try, and still come up short.

Along this road, I have begun to take joy in being content in my weakness. If I allowed myself reign to condemn and punish myself for every shortcoming, I would quickly become miserable, yet through failure, I am learning to base my joy in things other than strictly defined "success."

Part of being a third-year medical student is acquiring new skills and knowledge through experience. Clearly, some experiences present themselves frequently while others are more rare and difficult to obtain. It is normal to desire fairness and equality in the distribution of these experiences. In fact, many would say that they have the right to experience the same procedures as every other medical student, and if some one else gets to do something they don't, it is unfair and justifiably unjust.

And just as I'm experiencing this, the voice of God breaks through (in the form of a book called The Shack) and announces to me the ridiculosity of this concept we have of "rights."

We have essentially taken things that we should receive out of love and fashioned rules that we can collapse upon in the event that we are not loved. What a tragedy that such efforts have been made in the past to simply claim what should be freely given. Rights to freedom, rights to a voice, rights to peace. And yet these rules do not and cannot replace what was missing in the first place, instead imposing a rigid framework devoid of warmth with only a token nod affirming that yes, you probably should get this.

How bold and daring we may be should we willingly give up this frantic pursuit of love for ourselves, in both big and small ways, in exchange for the knowledge and security that we are loved already and that the one who loves us is already working for our good. Humility is choosing to stop demanding love and start accepting love on its own terms.