Is it just me, or does the tendency not to want to take advice from others start way too young?
I have always struggled to take constructive criticism, advice, or counsel well. I immediately become self-defensive and start justifying myself, blame-shifting, making excuses, correcting the other person, or displaying my insecurities and character flaws in some other terrible way. Maybe you're not like I am, and if you can willingly, happily accept advice, I applaud that and believe you actually have much more common sense than I naturally possess.
Not long ago, I advised my 4-year-old that he really ought to go straight to the bathroom as soon as he wakes up. That is precisely what all of the other potty-trained persons in our household do, and even the little one who doesn't really want to learn to use the potty finds himself being scooped up and placed on the toilet first thing in the morning. (It just helps potty training go better the rest of the day.) Yet the 4-year-old is the most like me in too many ways, and he didn't deem taking my advice necessary.
So, of course, he had an accident one day at about 10:00 in the morning, and he never has accidents. As I was trying to clean up the pee all over the floor, I asked in my least sincerely loving and patient voice, "Did you use the potty when you woke up this morning?" No, of course not. Playing, eating breakfast, and more playing were his most important priorities, in that order. So I advised him a little more sternly that he needed to go straight to the bathroom upon awaking because he would be cleaning up his own mess the next time if he chose otherwise. He assured me that this would not happen again and that he does not need to use the bathroom when he first wakes up.
The very next day, he woke up and went straight (wait for it) . . . to the recliner to rock and cuddle with his blanket and teddy bear. I found him there looking so warm and cozy, and I decided not to say anything but rather to give him grace -- and time to make his own choice. That lasted a few minutes, until I asked if he had used the potty yet. He said he had not and did not need to do so.
I went back to working on breakfast in the kitchen. Maybe two minutes later, I heard a sheepish mumble: "Mommy, I need to go potty." And off he went. When he finished, he came back to tell me something very important: "Mommy, I love you." It was his way of telling me "thank you" and letting me know I was right. Since then he almost always remembers to go potty first, and if he forgets and I have to remind him, he doesn't fight it.
Shouldn't we all love those who give us advice, direct us to wisdom, urge us to make good choices, and lovingly guide us? Maybe not everyone does it lovingly. OK, maybe most people don't give advice lovingly, but I think we should love them anyway. Proverbs says the wounds of a friend are faithful. Sometimes even the wounds of an enemy can be helpful.
Do we want truth, or do we want ignorance? Do we want to grow, or do we want to remain in our bad habits? Do we want someone to steer us in the right direction when we get off track, or do we want to stay on the path to destruction?
I can't help thinking of Jane Austen's character named Emma. She has good intentions and even a good heart, but she becomes arrogant, pompous, and judgmental. It takes the wounds of a faithful friend to jolt her back to reality and help her see who she has become. And since it's Jane Austen, Emma falls in love with that friend in a beautiful ending.
Jesus gave it to people straight. He called them out on their secret sins. He also showed them their potential, helped them believe, and empowered them to change. I think one of the most loving things God can do is tell us honestly what our true spiritual condition is. We may not want to hear it, but if we allow His truth to penetrate our hearts, humble ourselves enough to admit our fault, and cry out to Him for the strength to change, we realize He wasn't being mean. He was offering to save our lives, save us from ourselves, save us from self-destruction.
So I'm working on it. I'm trying to listen carefully and keep my mouth shut when someone gives me advice, and I take time to ponder criticism to see if there is any truth in it. I truly want to grow, to change, to become all God created me to be, and I realize people around me can help. My mentor calls this "being coachable." My husband calls this "strange." He has put up with self-defensive Crystal for so long that he becomes suspicious when I react any other way.
Maybe an old dog can't learn new tricks, but I believe anyone can make a personal transformation -- with faithful and supportive friends, truthful counsel, motivation (whether internal or external), and the desire to change. For me, though, effort and good intentions just aren't enough. That's why I'm so grateful I don't have to do it alone. I've tried, and it's so frustrating. I need supernatural strength to overcome my biggest obstacle -- myself -- and I'm thankful I know where to find it.
My kids know, too: I admit my faults to them so they will see that it's OK to admit when we're wrong, and I let them know that Jesus is helping me change because I want them to know where to turn when changing seems too hard. I realize that they have to learn some things the hard way, just as I have, but my hope is that maybe it won't take 35 years for them.