Noah was attempting to squeeze between the couch and wall and was asking me to move the couch. At this moment I am wrestling with a damaged shoulder and responded by telling him I couldn't move it. it was just too heavy.
His older sister, Johannah looked at me puzzled. I could see her mind at work and after a few seconds she said, "My daddy could move it. He could pick up the whole couch all by himself." She was right, her daddy certainly could easily do that!
In a brief moment my thoughts took me back to life with my dad when I was a young person. He was a construction guy, worked hard, had lots of muscle and all my friends thought he had to be one of the strongest people ever. With great pride, I did too.
One of the measures of his strength was that we would occasionally arm wrestle. He would toy with me by just holding my arm in one spot while I tried with every ounce of strength I had to beat him but the result would always be my defeat. Every time I was feeling a little spunky, I would excitedly and with a determined spirit of "I can do it, I can beat him this time", throw out the challenge for a rematch. Dad never denied me and he never lost.
Years passed with the same result. Then there was that one day I will never forget. I challenged, he agreed and we sat at he kitchen table. We locked hands and I beat him. I think we were both amazed and surprised. The look on his face took was almost haunting. It seemed as though an era had ended and that wonderful, fun thing we had between us was gone. That was the last time we arm wrestled.
It was a bittersweet victory for me. You would think I would have been so thrilled. You would think I would have bragged to all my friends and anyone else who would listen. I didn't. I never mentioned it to any of my friends. I was hurt. I dethroned my dad who had always been the most powerful man in my universe.
I wish I had a sense of awareness in that moment. I wish I had the wisdom to know that I could beat him but had exercised the grace to let him win. That moment has troubled me my entire life. Oh, I know it is not a life or death thing but I had inflicted some level of pain on my hero. My ego to win controlled the moment and it wasn't at all what I expected.
Yesterday it struck me that there are moments in all our lives where our ego gets the best of us. There are moments when we have to win an argument and inflict damage on another person we might just care very much about. There are moments when it would be best if we exercised grace rather than plow ahead to gain a victory while damaging another.
Is a meaningless victory worth hurting another person. Is it ever enough to just know we are right rather than beating another person into the ground to prove it?
Is doing battle to the death the way we show love to those around us? Is such behavior what Christ had in mind when He told us to love our neighbors as ourselves ? I think we all know the answer to that question.
Perhaps if each of us would pause and consider the harm such battles can do we might find it in our hearts to step back and not win. We have all fallen short of what God has taught us but rather than jumping up and down crushing us with all the ways we have done wrong, He gave us a way out. He is merciful and through Christ we live. Just maybe we can look to that example as how to love our neighbors.
Just maybe we can replace some of our ego with grace and let love be the victor.