I’ve been thinking about Georgie Baker, who last week shared the happy news that she was wrapping up her degree in social work. Georgie was two-years-old when we first met. She would come to meeting with her grandparents, Ralph and Gan, and when the other children went to children’s church, she would stay in the meeting room and take notes. She was very precocious. When she wasn’t here, she acted in plays, and went to school, and now she wants to be a therapist, so has been taking classes, working hard to join that noble profession. I’m very proud of her. It’s not easy figuring out what you want to be, and sometimes it’s even harder to figure out who you want to be, the kind of person you want to be.
We’ve been talking about the do’s and don’ts during times of change. When a nation is at a pivotal moment, figuring out who we will be as citizens of that nation is an ongoing task. When we were in our 20s, we had to think about what we would be. We had to discover our vocation. In his book, Wishful Thinking, Frederick Buechner, said “The work God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” While that helps us discern what we will be, we must also think about who we will be, no matter our age, and live in light of who we are, what we believe, and what we value. When we fail to do that, when we forget who we are, we risk becoming what we pledged never to become.
Often, when we talk about what we want to be, when we speak of our vocations, we use the language of intentionality. I have decided to be a lawyer. I have decided to be a pastor. Georgie decided to be a therapist. Others have chosen to be teachers, attorneys, accountants. There is an intentional choice involved. In fact, if someone tries to make that choice for us, we get our backs up. We say, “It’s my life and I will decide what I will do with it. It’s my choice.” We don’t like anyone telling us what we must do with our lives. That’s up to us.
But curiously, when we began to think about who we are, we often use the language of inevitably, as if we had no choice in the matter, that we are who we are because of the way we were raised, or where we grew up, or who our parents were and how they treated us. We start believing that who we are is a consequence of outside forces imposed upon us that remain beyond our control, as if who we are is inevitable, predictable, and therefore irreversible. When we believe that, when we convince ourselves that who we are isn’t something we control, we give ourselves permission to behave terribly.
The famous defense at the Nuremberg trials by the Germans who’d committed atrocities was, “I was just following orders.” As if they were powerless at every point to stop what they were doing, as if they were unable to say, “I will not do that,” as if circumstances beyond their control compelled them to commit gross and vile evil against others.
Knowing who we are provides a moral framework for our lives. There are simply things we will not do because they are inconsistent with who we are. In 1651, the founder of Quakerism, George Fox, was hauled before the authorities for refusing military service. Writing of that experience, he said, “I told them I lived in the virtue of that life and power that took away the occasion of all wars.” This is what it means to know who you are, to know what you believe, and to live within the life and power of your moral code.
I’m reminding us of this because there is rising hatred in our nation, and each of us will need to decide who we are and how we will conduct ourselves. Because if we don’t tell the world who we are, the world will tell us who it wants us to be. After a while, we might even start believing we had no choice in the matter. But we always have a choice. We are not blank slates upon whom anything can be written. We are not cogs in a vast machine. We are Quakers with a moral code, informed by 375 years of decency and justice. We know who we are. We know what we believe, and we are determined to live within the boundaries of our moral code. We decide who we will be, and no one else. Not our bosses or co-workers. Not our neighbors. Not our childhood friends. Not our family members. Not a social media influencer, podcaster, radio personality, nor some amoral billionaire who grew fat and sassy at the public trough. We decide who we will be, and no one else.
Refuse to be impressed by those whose only accomplishment in life is the accumulation of wealth and power. Refuse to grant them your obedience or approval. Refuse to give them control of your conscience. Refuse to sell for pennies on the dollar the priceless wealth of your integrity.
About fifteen years or so ago I was invited to an event in downtown Indianapolis. When I arrived, I found myself seated next to a billionaire. First and only one I ever met. And I started sucking up to him like you would not believe, agreeing with everything he said, exaggerating my accomplishments, hoping to impress him. Within 90 seconds, I had become the Eddie Haskell of the event. Yes, sir, Mr. Billionaire. No, sir, Mr. Billionaire. You’re so wise, Mr. Billionaire. I was making myself so sick I wanted to throw up on me.
Driving home, I was thinking about the evening, and I realized there were six other people at that table, besides the billionaire and myself, and I hadn’t made the slightest effort to get to know them. I wasn’t interested in their thoughts. I didn’t ask about their families or what they did or where they lived. They were non-entities to me. I walked into that room with a clear understanding of who I was and what was important to me, and I pitched it aside just like that. I found out later one of the folks at the table had founded a feeding initiative that had saved millions of people all around the world from starvation. And I didn’t learn the first thing about who that man was, because I was too busy forgetting who I was.
We decide who we will be, and no one else. We decide who we will emulate, and no one else. We decide who will inspire us, what will motivate us, and what we will value. And no one else.
Refuse to sell for pennies on the dollar the priceless wealth of your integrity.