Think you’ve got all the answers? I’ll say it again: You might be wrong.
I’ve been a pastor now for 40 years, all of it with more-or-less the same church.
That is, I started at one church, then was called down the road a few miles to lead another congregation, then in 1996 helped merge those two churches under the same roof.
As with any congregation—or three congregations, depending on how you count it—we’ve had a lot of turnover in 40 years. We’ve turned over multiple times.
Still, I’ve got a few folks I’ve preached to every week for decades.
As I’m forced to admit periodically, nobody has that much to say, including me. My parishioners have heard my cache of pulpit stories so many times they know them better than I do. When I flub a detail of some well-worn chestnut, they happily interrupt mid-sermon to correct me.
I bring this up as a way of admitting I’m about to repeat myself here, too. But at least here I’m doing it consciously and intentionally.
In August 2018, I wrote a column about Mississippi singer-songwriter Paul Thorn’s delightful song, “You Might Be Wrong.”
Thorn said the song was based on a quote by former President Bill Clinton he saw in a newspaper: “Whatever you believe, you might be wrong.”
I’ve always had mixed feelings about the former president. But I have no mixed emotions about that alleged quote or about Thorn’s song, which expresses the same sentiment.
After all the political turmoil we’ve just endured regarding the recent presidential election and its ugly aftermath, not to mention the turmoil surrounding the pandemic, and the wrecked economy, and all the rest of our problems and divisions, and given all the turmoil I suspect lies ahead of us, this seemed like an apt time to revisit that old truth.
Whatever you believe, you might be wrong. I’d say the chances are better than even that you, in fact, are wrong. About most anything, political or not.
Think that lady wearing a MAGA hat and toting a Glock is some sort of sub-literate, racist Cretan? Maybe. And maybe she’s the EMT who saves your life next week after you have a bad car wreck on your way to the Sierra Club meeting.
Think Joe Biden is too old, senile and liberal to lead the country? Possibly. It’s also possible he could turn out to be a marvelous president who restores unity, stops COVID-19 and puts everybody back to work. Thing is, you don’t know yet, and neither do I.
Think you know exactly who’s going to heaven? Better wait until you get there. God tends to surprise us. What if it turns out the Muslims or the Jews or the Zoroastrians were right—and they’re your mansion-next-door neighbors for eternity up there on Glory Boulevard? What if their mansion is actually grander than yours?
Dead sure who your daughter ought to marry—and who she shouldn’t? Might want to hold your tongue. Ten years down the line, that ambitious young surgeon you’re rooting for could turn out to be a closet sociopath and a compulsive gambler and an incurable womanizer. The suitor you think is a ne’er-do-well might, beneath that scraggly beard and all those tattoos, become the biggest saint of a husband and father on two legs.
I speak here from long personal experience, as a grizzled veteran of life who’s on the cusp of signing up for Medicare and, soon after, Social Security.
I don’t consider myself a stupid man (although some observers might beg to argue). I am “plumb eat up with education,” as I heard a country preacher describe himself.
In addition, faced with any complicated situation, I tend to analyze it from top to bottom before acting. I compare costs with benefits. Yes, I’m deliberate to a fault (ask my longsuffering and sometimes impatient wife).
But despite all those efforts, many of the decisions I’ve made and at least half the beliefs I once held dear have turned out to be wrong. So far. It might get worse before I’m done. If I’ve learned anything, it’s how fallible I am, how incomplete my knowledge is.
The only comfort I take from that is, I’ve seen how fallible others are, too.
We all occupy that boat together. Including you, gentle reader. We don’t know nearly as much about anything as we instinctively assume we do. We’re adrift at sea. It’s healthy to admit this to ourselves and always keep it in mind.
This isn’t to say you shouldn’t have any beliefs. It’s not to say all beliefs are equal. It’s not to say that all religions or political views are OK.
It is to say we need to be very careful. We need to temper our judgments and doctrines and prejudices with a huge dose of humility. Always.
It turns out the more you learn in life, the less you know for sure. You discover that, whatever you believe, no matter how sincerely you believe it, you just might be wrong.
Paul Prather is pastor of Bethesda Church near Mount Sterling. You can email him at pratpd@yahoo.com.
This story was originally published January 28, 2021 at 1:51 PM with the headline "Think you’ve got all the answers? I’ll say it again: You might be wrong.."