the rest of the story

In Sunday’s blog there was one embedded comment that is perhaps relevant in most — maybe all — of the events we examine.  It’s arguably applicable in each of our opinions.  And it’s probably the one aspect that’s hardest for us to admit, especially when our emotions are enflamed.

 

As previously stated:  “None of us know everything; we continually make judgments and build perspective based on limited information.”

 

We continually make judgments based on limited information — although we assume we either know it all — or at least enough to form (and adhere to) an opinion.

 

That means from where we stand, we can’t tell what Paula Deen did or did not say…

We can’t discern the guilt — or innocence — of either George Zimmerman or Trayvon Martin…

We can’t tell if the administration lied about Benghazi… or if the previous administration lied about known weapons of mass destruction…

We truly don’t know if the unfair targeting of conservative groups by the IRS generated from Washington or anywhere near the White House…

We don’t know with certainty if LeBron James is an arrogant or humble winner…

We have no idea if the Justice Dept. is telling the truth — or lying — regarding their motive for identifying reporters as potential criminals in order to secretly spy on them…

We don’t know if the current immigration legislation being crafted is all good or all not (… granted, those senators voting on it would know a little more if they’d actually read the proposed bill)…

 

We don’t know; our information is limited.  That should alter the passion prompting our perspective.

 

Years ago I was involved in a professional situation in which most all who articulated an opinion were seduced by the limited-information lure.  An angry hotel employee of mine had alerted the local papers and television stations, that our staff had unfairly discriminated against him because he was gay.  He told the awaiting microphones that we wanted to fire him because of his sexual preference/orientation.

 

The tapes were rolling; there was much to record.  “Discrimination!” was uttered in some of the shouts.  The employee was passionate and articulate.  He seemed to have a believable story, as yes, it was true that he was gay and also that we planned on terminating his employment.  However believable, it was also incomplete.

 

The information he chose not to share with the media that morn is that in an elegant setting, he began publicly cooking breakfast for our hotel guests wearing Spandex shorts and flip flops, while smoking a cigarette.  When he was asked to exit and don an appropriate uniform, he refused — and instead locked himself in a hotel room.  It was from that room in which he called the local media.

 

Friends, I never felt free to disclose all aspects of that scenario.  While the employee chose not to share the “rest of the story,” so-to-speak, neither did I.  We never made our case to the media.  We never gave them complete information.  Hence, all conclusions made in regard to the fate of our former breakfast cook were based on limited information.

 

What don’t we know?  … about Paula Deen?  Benghazi?  … the IRS, Justice Dept., George Zimmerman, and more?

 

In each of the above — no matter whether we passionately believe or doubt the account shared — our passion is based solely on limited information.  We will most likely never “know the rest of the story.”

 

Respectfully,

AR

oh my

Infamous, celebrity butter connoisseur, Paula Deen — the Paula Deen of the millions of dollars Deen cooking empire — acknowledged the previous use of a racial slur.  On Friday, Deen apologized for “the wrong that I’ve done,” following this week’s admission that she said the “N-word” years ago.  Almost immediately, the Food Network fired her.  The Emmy-winning chef has worked for the Food Network for the past 14 years.

 

Allow us to begin with a few caveats and statements of fact.  First and foremost, none of us know everything; we continually make judgments and build perspective based on limited information.  Second, the name calling was not (at least admitted to be) in public.  And third, the “N-word” is a racial slur that many of all skin colors still reserve the right to say for some reason.  That said…

 

I wonder… (as you knew I would…)

 

How forgiving of a society are we?

When exactly does a person “cross the line”?

When has their debt or wrong choice gone too far?

70 times 7?  When do we legitimately choose to forgive… or to not?

 

Please don’t equate consequence with forgiveness.  Such is a separate topic; there are consequences for poor choices.  Today my question centers around forgiveness… especially as we hear the “aghast’s,” “oh my’s,” and “she should pay” in regard to a Paula Deen.

 

Can we extend forgiveness that far?

 

For many we say they don’t deserve to be forgiven…

 

I’m reminded of the historical king’s account who decided to forgive the monetary debts of his servants.  As he got under way in the squaring up process, one servant was brought before him who had run up a debt of a hundred thousand dollars.  He couldn’t pay up, so the king ordered the man, along with his wife, children, and goods, to be auctioned off at the slave market.  Yes, an awful fate.

 

The poor wretch threw himself at the king’s feet and begged, “Give me a chance and I’ll pay it all back.”  Touched by his plea, the king let him off, actually erasing the debt.

 

The servant was no sooner out of the room when he came upon one of his own peers who owed him only ten dollars.  The servant seized him by the throat and demanded, “Pay up.  Now!”

 

This poor wretch threw himself down and begged, “Give me a chance and I’ll pay it all back,” but he wouldn’t do it.  The original servant had him arrested and put in jail until his debt was paid.  When the other servants saw this going on, they were outraged and brought a detailed report to the king.

 

The king summoned the man and said, “You evil servant!  I forgave your entire debt when you begged me for mercy.  Shouldn’t you be compelled to be merciful to your fellow servant who asked for mercy?”

 

Isn’t that seemingly half our problem?  Even if it’s a poor choice we have also made, we still often hold others to a higher standard than ourselves.  We ask for mercy; yet at the same time, we often withhold it from others.  We withhold mercy.  We refrain from freely offering forgiveness.  “They don’t deserve it!” we are tempted to adamantly reply.  Paula Deen obviously made a poor choice, but the reality is that many among us — including those at the Food Network — have most likely said the exact same thing or something comparable or even worse.  And yet, there is no forgiveness.  There is sadly, seemingly, only more “aghast’s,” “oh my’s,” and “she should pay.”

 

Respectfully,

AR