I’ve been focusing my pre-Lenten pondering on this statement made by Alfred North Whitehead close to a century ago. Why? Because I prefer to see myself generally so as to avoid a more detailed examination of the old man in my mirror . . . to see myself from 30,000 feet rather than taking a microscopic look at my weed-choked being. And more specifically that means confronting the inclination I have (maybe you have it, too) to give too much credence to what others say about me, especially when it’s favorable. You see, many who know me only generally extrapolate a detailed narrative that supports their perceptions: a smile is taken to mean I’m always jovial; an extemporaneous prayer with a hurting person draws the conclusion I’m the epitome of compassion; a handwritten “thank you” note implies I’m a model of gratitude; holding my wife’s hand signals an unduly affectionate nature; an unruffled approach to the unexpected prompts thoughts of my being always calm, cool and collected. Now it’s not that I have none of these supposed attributes, I do . . . just not to the degree and surely not with the consistency being surmised. I’m like a glossy picture – from a distance I look a lot better than I do under a magnifying glass – and in my heart of hearts I know it.

With Ash Wednesday drawing ever nearer, my daily goal is to grapple with the details of my humanness and by God’s grace to narrow the gap between perception and reality, between what could be and what is. The devil would prefer otherwise; but then the devil has always been in the details!