“The Blame Game”

Don’t be fooled, blame is not a game. But whatever it is, we’re seeing it perfected in our current culture.

The flaming arrows of accusation fly. The shield of denial is thick.

Headlines tilt. Interviews slant.

And we peddle blame like an ice cream truck pushes Slushies in the middle of July.

Our appetite for gossip is insatiable. We pick the buffet that best suits our hunger, and we pull up a seat with a fork in hand.

Opportunity and vulnerability breed exploitation, not compassion. We pile on, because it’s easier than extending grace.

Whatever shared energy surfaced at the beginning of this global crisis, has long since been exhausted. An open hand is now a clinched fist. Even within the body of Christ.

Self-preservation fuels the engine of one camp, economic recovery ignites combustion on the other. Both carry gasoline cans around the open flame.

Honest dialog. Thoughtful rhetoric. Humble understanding. Honest confession… never. Not only endangered, but extinct.

An admission of error, or miscalculation, or exaggeration, or malice, or abuse of power… political suicide. Weakness. Unacceptable. You either stay and fight, or you leave in shame. There is no middle ground… or rather, no higher ground to be found.

Then I read this…

In 1 Samuel 25. The story of an arrogant buffoon by the name of Nabal. This man shows overt disdain and hatred and disregard for David, God’s anointed. In essence, Nabal picks a fight with God. “Who is this fellow David?” Nabal sneered to the young men.

Enter Abigail. Nabal’s wife. A woman of grace and wisdom and honor. She intercepts David and his troops on their way to righteously annihilate this man and his people. And her language, from her knees, in her meeting with David… “I accept all blame in this matter, my lord.” And later… “Please forgive me if I have offended you in any way.”

Abigail. My new hero. My new model.

As I read this account, I felt the weight of my own condemnation, my own rush to judgment, my own propensity to dismiss or disregard.

I confess. I judge without knowledge. I condemn without wisdom. I ignore without justice. I walk up to the buffet, to my buffet, with fork in hand.

How lazy. How arrogant. How damaging.

Abigail. Shouldering the blame, to facilitate restoration. Not peace at any cost, but unity at the expense of personal pride.

Jesus. His naked skin against a splintering cross… “forgive them…” Hatred opened the wound, and courageous grace sutured it together.

Blame is not a game. It’s toxic. It’s the well-worn tool in Satan’s toolbox.

Grace is not silent acquiesce. It’s not overmatched weakness. Grace is the power of God, unleashed on the comprehensive sin of all people. Grace empowers the advocate for justice, even as it extends an olive branch toward repentance. Grace is not a doormat, it’s a bridge.

And it’s in short supply.

I want to learn from Abigail. I want to be like Jesus.