Clunking Along

Every Thursday I’ll post an article having to do with either relational or emotional matters. Hope it helps.

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Clunking Along

“I like to think of anything stupid I’ve done as a ‘learning experience.’ It makes me feel less stupid.” -P.J. O’Rourke

I’ve no stones to throw at Senator Akin. Yes, he made a scathingly stupid remark when he declared, while explaining his pro-life position, that when a woman is a victim of “legitimate rape” her system somehow shuts down, making her biologically unlikely to become pregnant. That’s an inexcusable slap to rape victims, a grotesque linguistic error (“legitimate” rape?) and altogether, a giant misstep for mankind.  And yes, his gaffe will be used against his party, pro-lifers, and conservatives in general. He messed up; I get it.

But I’ve been clunking along in life for 57 years now, and my history of gaffes, blunders, and generally dumb actions disqualifies me from saddling up my high horse. My bloopers weren’t caught on video, but my memory’s intact, making me cringe when I recall some of my finer moments.

Like when I decided, as a 17-year old teen and 1-year old Christian, to do street evangelism in the downtown area of my city. My friends and I were bold believers in those days, duty-bound to preach to anything that breathed. Downtown was where prostitutes breathed, along with sailors, drunks and thugs, and who, I asked myself, needed the gospel more? So up to the tall young lady I strode, gospel-correct in my three piece polyester suit, handing her a tract and asking if she knew Jesus.

“Jesus,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, and I was encouraged that she knew His name, so I plunged ahead.

“That’s the one, and He loves you. Do you know how to know Him?”

She examined me the way one scrutinizes an obnoxious insect. Her fingernails alone could dice an elephant, so I knew the woman was armed and ticked, but Jesus loved harlots, so I was gonna love one too, come what may.

Then a gleam crossed her eyes, highlighting layers of mascara, and she pointed to one of her colleagues across the street. “See Georgia over there? She’d love to talk to you about God. Oh, she’s real religious. Go give her one of these.” So off to Georgia I trotted. She was a tall one, too, heavy set with biceps bigger than mine. A customer was talking with her. Good, they could both hear the good news. I interrupted them, introduced myself as the man fled, and Georgia’s hands went to her hips while she glared. I was a little put off – if this woman wasn’t polite, I might just not witness to her. I handed her a tract, and she invited me to do biological things only a contortionist could achieve. I shook the dust from my feet as I ran away from Georgia.

I also clunked when, as a young minister, I did my first ocean baptism in pants that were too loose. Waist deep in the salt water, I’d dunk the convert as the pants dropped. Clunk. Twenty years later, while speaking to a Canadian conference, I referred to a young agitator as a “bugger”, having no idea that among French and English folks, a “bugger” refers to one committing homosexual rape. The collective gasp told me “clunk” – I’d always thought “bugger” meant something like “brat.”

Clunked big time in Hong Kong when speaking to a conference with head phones in place so the interpreter could privately tell me what was being said. I lost all control when the worship leader, speaking Chinese, told everyone to stand and greet the person next to them. The interpreter got her words mixed up and told me, over the headsets, to stand and smell the person next to me. Terminal giggles took over which I couldn’t explain to the earnest people around me who wondered why the American guest was so disrespectfully chortling in the middle of services.

I’ve said and done much worse, certainly, and no doubt I’ll clunk again.  Now, the damage of poorly chosen words shouldn’t be minimized. Anyone speaking publicly, whether politician or preacher, needs to take James seriously when he says:

“My brethren, be no many teachers, knowing that we will receive the greater condemnation.” (James 3:1)

Great opportunity carries great responsibility, so when a public speaker uses the wrong words, makes a stupid gaffe or generally misspeaks, he should own the error without excuses or rationalizations. But personally, I’ll give the clunker plenty of grace, being guilty of so many clunks myself, especially if he’s willing to admit, apologize for, and seek not to repeat his error. Sometimes a clunk is revealing, bringing to light what the speaker really thinks and stands for, and when an alleged “oops” is really part of a pattern, this it’s not an “oops”; it’s an error, and should be called such. But so many of us can admit the occasionally stupid remark, so we can and should be forgiving and fair.

The abortion issue is far too serious for us to dismiss Senator Akin’s words as minor flubs, and the distraction his remarks have caused do, to this concerned Republican’s thinking, warrant his stepping down to avoid needless distractions during such a critical election cycle. But even as I say that, I’ll acknowledge how easily one verbally slips, how impossible it is to always say the right thing, and how grateful I am to anyone taking a stand for the unborn, even when I may disagree with the way the stand is taken.

From all us clunkers, sincere apologies to those who’ve endured our gaffes. To the rest of us, may we show grace, take corrective action as needed, and leave the stone throwing to the truly sinless.