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I like to be right. Confidence in my knowledge and skills comes naturally (perhaps, too easily). Being kind on the other hand … Yeah, I’m not good at choosing kindness.  It took a piece of children’s fiction to show me that.

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The Power of Fiction

My wife and I have been taking turns reading a book out loud with our children: Wonder by R. J. Palacio. We are only about a third of the way through the book, but I’ve already decided that for a first effort of published fiction by Palacio, it might be a modern-day classic.

The story is about a 10-year old boy, August, who was born with significant challenges. His face was never fully formed.  By the time he is ten, he’s been through many, many surgeries. He has few friends, and doesn’t want to be in social situations because of his appearance. August has been homeschooled his entire life, and as the book begins, is preparing to enter a public school for the first time.

One of the chapters is entitled “Choose Kindness.” It details a maxim of the month presented by August’s middle-school English teacher. By the end of the month, the students are to produce a short essay on what this maxim means to them, do they agree, how does it play out in life, etc.

Of course, with August’s condition, many around him in the book don’t choose kindness when interacting with him.

But this lucid bit of fiction caused me to think about what type of essay on this maxim I would write, at this stage in my life. Once again, I’m reminded that fiction is often the lie through which we grapple with the truth.

I’ve Always Wanted to Be Right

No matter my career or life stage, I’ve always wanted to be right … about anything … about everything. This is an insane burden to bear. I’ve gotten better at this in my 30s. In fact, often when I’m wrong I learn more about myself, my relationships, my beliefs, the world I live in.

If you have struggled with this same curse, let me offer this …

The need to be right stems from pride and selfishness, period. Tweet this

If you don’t agree with that, I won’t argue with you. But as a recovering arrogant and prideful man, I know it to be true.

And I Wanted Everyone to Know I’m Right

As a young man, when I knew I was right, I felt it my duty to let everyone around me know it. I must’ve been intolerable to be around for long periods of time.

As I’ve “matured,” this desire for others to know my rightness morphed. It got to a point that even if I knew I was wrong, the perception that others had of me being right was enough. In other words, fake superiority and the appearance of being an authority sufficed.

This is what the Desert Fathers and Mothers of the Christian faith called vainglory. It stems from pride, but it’s a fake substitute. Being right no longer matters. It’s all about the appearance, even the false appearance, of being right.

Why Kindness Works

These days, there are still times I want to assert my rightness. In discussions or meetings, I occasionally have this urge to tell everyone to shut up and listen to what’s right. And, of course, I fancy myself as the holder of that rightness.

When I get these urges, I’m learning to choose kindness instead.  That doesn’t mean that I just allow people to mess things up with what I perceive to be wrong actions or ideas.

Instead, I keep my mouth shut as long as possible, and just listen.  Really listen. I find out more about others this way. It also allows me to re-consider my own ideas and actions.

Maybe I’m just finally learning to practice “quick to listen, slow to speak.”

But I find that this practice is an act of kindness. It’s a means to value others and their thoughts. It’s a way to place myself in the role of a servant.

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