Stop pointing your finger.—Isaiah 58:9 (NLT)

“It was the gnats!” I’m a competitive person. When I’m losing, or have lost, in some form—any form—of competition, my husband still likes to kid me with those words. Their origin was years ago, when we were dating. We were playing tennis and clouds of irritating gnats kept circling my head. 

When I lost the match, I had a ready explanation: “It was the gnats!” Somehow I felt better when I placed the blame for my inferior tennis skills on those pesky insects. 

I still too often turn to blame. When my son-in-law beats me at ping-pong: “It’s your table; I’m not used to it.” When I leave a pot on the stove until it scorches: “I got a phone call and they just kept talking and made me forget.” I’ve looked for some reason, any reason, that what occurred was not my fault. It allows me to feel better about myself. 

Why do I do this? I asked God during my quiet time. What I heard in my heart is this: Blaming is a form of pride, and we all know what pride comes before. So, this morning when my husband told me he’d woken up at 4 a.m. to a beeping oven, indicating I’d forgotten to turn it off after dinner last night, I said, “I’m sorry. That’s completely my fault. I should have remembered.” This evening, when he creamed me in foosball, I said, “Great game. You beat me fair and square!” And you know what? I felt better about myself than when I’ve made excuses. 

Lord, when I’m tempted to point my finger, please remind me to point it at myself.
— 

Digging Deeper: Proverbs 16:18, 29:23; Matthew 23:12