The Work of Being Wrong

I found an old sermon in a box last week, with my name on it and a certainty I no longer recognize. I had said that anyone who questioned me was standing outside the truth.

That was a cruel thing to teach, even though I meant to protect people. A Speaker is not the owner of the room. A Speaker is the person willing to put the wrong thing on the table.

The book we keep is allowed to be wrong. So am I. Correction can feel like losing your place, but sometimes it is someone stopping you before you walk past a person in need.

I do not know which parts of me are habit and which are wisdom. I know this much: if my words make it harder for someone to speak, they need changing.

A chair is useful when it holds you, not when it is raised above everyone else.