When He entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came up to Him as He was teaching, and said, "By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?" Jesus answered them, "I also will ask you one question, and if you tell me the answer, then I also will tell you by what authority I do these things. The baptism of John, from where did it come? From heaven or from man?" And they discussed it among themselves, saying, "If we say, 'From heaven,' He will say to us, 'Why then did you not believe him?' But if we say, 'From man,' we are afraid of the crowd, for they all hold that John was a prophet." So they answered Jesus, "We do not know." And He said to them, "Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things" (Matt. 21:23-27).Wrong question: "How will our response make us look?" The real question was "What is the truth?" which was sadly jettisoned.
The reason this has come to mind of late is not because I've seen it in folks around me. The reason this is on my mind is that I've seen it in myself ... and it's not pretty. I've noticed, as an example, that when my step-son is doing something well, I refer to him as "my son" to others, but when he's doing something wrong, he's "my step-son." I don't do it consciously. It's an automatic event. You see, when he does well, it reflects well on me. When he does poorly, it doesn't reflect well on me. So when he does well, I'd like to enjoy looking better, but when he does poorly, I'd prefer to distance myself. "I didn't raise the boy ... he's my step-son." How ugly! I caught it the other day. Another son is getting married this year. His in-laws-to-be asked if we might be able to help out with wedding expenses. The truth is that we have very little extra at the end of the paycheck. The truth is that, while we are getting by okay, we're not really able to provide much more. But I was in a dilemma. If I said, "Yes," I'd have to figure out how that was even remotely possible, but if I said, "No," it would look like I didn't care ... or worse, I wasn't rich. The only possible answer was "No," but it was hard for me because it would make me look bad. Sometimes I don't need a mirror to see how ugly I can be.
On very rare occasion it is okay to ask, "How will this make me look?" Solomon wrote, "A soft answer turns away wrath." In other words, I want to continue to engage this person in their best interest, so perhaps I had better make for a softer answer, making me look less strident, so that I can continue to be of help to them. A pastor does well to ask his wife "How do I look?" before he stands up in front of the church on Sunday because if he has a rip in his pants or hair sticking out all the wrong ways it will be a distraction to his hearers and he needs to be careful not to distract them. In other words, on those very rare occasions where "How do I look?" is motivated by "What's in their best interest?", it works.
There are so many better questions we need to ask long before we get to "How do I look?" We need to ask, "Will God be glorified?" We need to ask, "What is in their best interest?" We need to ask, "What can I do for you?" We need to ask, "What is the best I can give?" It would be helpful for all of us -- me in particular -- if we could push "How do I look?" way down toward the bottom of our question lists. In the final examination, it's just not that important compared to so many other things we should be considering.
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