The humility in being honest about blind spots

One of the hardest things to do when we’re on the quest for growth is to look for, or be open about, our blind spots.  We don’t want to concede that our blind spots might be so obvious that we’re literally the last ones to see them—for many this can feel like the darkest betrayal.

But the truth is there ought to be no fear for those situations, besides everyone has basically no idea of what we’re privately battling with unless we tell them.

There can be situations where it is said by others that we have blind spots, but when these are never elaborated on how are we to improve?  Or do they reveal what they will kindly for our own good?  Or do they simply wish to manipulate and gaslight us?  And let us hope for situations where it might be a mentor that shares it with us for our own good.

When it comes to facing my blind spots, I’ve experienced three revelatory miracles over the past nearly 10 years:

The first arrived on a dark and lonely evening in July 2012.  I’d been referred to a secular sociological book, Iron John: A Book about Men by Robert Bly (1990), and having read it, I heard God’s Spirit usher something uncomfortable into my soul!  The trepidation I experienced when I came to admit I was scared of getting close to other men.  God had been pursuing me gently about this for years.  Suddenly I was cleansed with purpose within thirty minutes, for now I had the answer.  I was one of these men who ‘didn’t need men in my life,’ and what I learned convinced me I could never be a good pastor until I overcame my disinterest in what I thought was the superficiality of men.

I’ve since learned there are so many men ready to go deep in a spiritual way and be raw with their emotions.

And the irony of this epiphany for this Christian counselling pastor is that it was a secular university post-graduate course, a secular lecturer, a secular psychoanalyst, and a secular book that God used to get me back onto God’s agenda.

I’m so glad of the fears I had that were exposed through my counselling training; through a stoic female faculty member who took no rubbish and had no qualms in telling me straight what I needed to do to be any good.  Her suggestion was that I embark on a course of psychoanalysis therapy sessions.  Eight sessions later and I was prescribed a medicine; the epiphany lay within its pages—I was a fearful man and the key to me overcoming my fear lay in investing myself in other men’s lives and being vulnerable with them even as I encouraged them to be vulnerable with me.  Other men don’t just need me, but as it were, I needed (and need!) other men.

The transforming outcome of this epiphany is I’ve continued to involve myself deeply in many men’s lives, and practice never saying no when opportunities come.

The second epiphany in relation to blind spots was I had was ‘the entitlement cure’ epiphany. (Credit to Dr John Townsend’s book, The Entitlement Cure.) 

I’m not narcissistic by nature, but I had had a grief-and-abuse-laden season that left me at my absolute weakest spiritually, susceptible to responses of pride, because I was in environments that for me became caustic.  Within a week of our world falling apart again in late February 2016, I had the epiphany—March 2, at about 7.30pm, in a sleepy south-west town on the beachfront.

I was reading a book about ‘pocket entitlement’ (those areas in all our lives we feel entitled about) and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

What were the things I could finish the sentence “I deserve…” with?  God put his finger on three of them.  I deserved respect.  I deserved understanding.  I deserved recognition.  

Oh, what a humbling moment!  I sought my wife’s feedback.  All she said was, “I think there’s something in that for you.”  Ouch!  But my dread was cleansed with purpose within thirty minutes, for at least I had the answer.

Through a heavy process of reflection that lasted the rest of that year, I learned to despise the phrase “I deserve,” preferring instead to acknowledge that whilst I had needs (like all of us do), I could never demand my needs be met exactly how I demanded them to be met.

The outcome of this epiphany was there were many important conversations with the appropriate people as I owned what threatened to hold me at distance from spiritual freedom.  I also made a lifetime commitment to keep the knowledge of my pocket entitlement at the forefront of my mind.

My third revelation of a significant blind spot came just last year in early 2021.  I very nearly invoked significant harm upon another person on the road when I turned left right in front of a cyclist one Friday afternoon.

The previous six years I’d struggled to forgive certain persons and situations, and no matter how hard I tried, that grace continued to elude me.  This event shook me so much that I literally felt I should be in prison—I could have maimed or killed a person through my tired inattention.  That was when the concept of mercy came over me in the freshest of ways, cleansing me of the blind spot of a hard heart.

Suddenly it was real when I considered, “If I deserve mercy, ALL deserve mercy.”  This blind spot I was cured of seemingly overnight, but occasionally I’m still reminded when I’m ignorant in judging what I don’t know.  But I’m getting better at seeing, and quicker to arrest, my biases when they arise.

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I know there are more blind spots that will be identified for me, and my only prayer ought to be that I’d have the humility sufficient to be honest about them when they’re revealed.

I can’t take any credit for these three events that forced me into seasons of growth for change.  It was always the facilitation of God orchestrating many others that brought these seasons of growth into my life at those points.

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We cannot grow and we’re certainly not humble if we’re not open to learning about our blind spots.  We cannot love others well if we cannot see our blind spots.  We can never live out our potential if we’re closed-minded or humiliated about our blind spots.

Honest humility will always lead us on a magnificent journey of growth.