Paying the Price

I enjoy reading memoirs—of the rich and famous, not so much, but of ordinary people who have achieved extraordinary things or have faced extraordinary difficulties. Recently there has been an outbreak of stories written by people smarting from injury. Among financiers, politicians, religious leaders, sports figures, and entertainers, there are a number who have confessed to wrongdoing, and have brought hardship not only to themselves but also to the more ordinary folk who trusted them. Now some of those others are writing about their experiences. Revenge? I can't say. Truth to set the record straight? Maybe. Money? Quite likely.

We love our heroes, and we choose the ones whose achievements are most closely aligned with our interests and values. If they exude charisma, so much the better. But if they fall, it is a very long way down, and we are quick to focus our attention on another hopeful. That may not be entirely fair, but that is part of the workings of leadership.

People sometimes try to negotiate the price they pay for failure. They didn’t figure on it costing them their career, their family, or their civil freedom. There are people in prison today or held captive by their own fear and regret who didn't plan on that outcome at all. "If I had known, I wouldn't have . . ." But they simply followed the alluring call of money or sex or power, and now must bear the consequences of their so-called "indiscretion."

I read a little of what one disappointed wife wrote; she does not seem bitter, just hurt. She accepts that her husband has done wrong, but she was dismayed by how quickly the flow of money and the recognition vanished. Didn't his accomplishments before failure count for anything? Weren't his relationships dependable enough to withstand the blow?

Well, perhaps not. When the charismatic person at the top takes a tumble, the whole framework is endangered. Although understanding and mercy may be extended—and in some cases, even Christian forgiveness—we are uneasy about the governor or pastor or banker who demonstrated that his/her own interests were ahead of ours. They may be ever so full of remorse now that they have been exposed, but few of their constituents or congregants or customers will want to go on as if nothing had happened. We accept that these leaders are human and make mistakes, but we do not any longer want them trying to lead us. We now know that they don't know where they're going.

King Saul in the Bible was just such a leader. He disobeyed God by carrying away some of the spoils of battle when he had been clearly instructed to destroy everything. "Yes, but I did carry out the mission . . ." "Yes, I know what God said, but the people wanted . . . " "Yes, I know I have sinned, but just excuse that because now I am ready to worship . . ." "Yes, I know I was wrong, but just honor me before the people . . ." He didn't plan to lose his kingdom and eventually his life, but that was the price he paid for failure.

I am supposing that most of us are not the extraordinary people at the top in the world of finance or politics or religion or sports and entertainment; most of us are looking to others for leadership in these areas. But the truth about the cost of failure is true for all of us. All my life I have heard, "You are the best Christian somebody knows." While we all make mistakes and have areas where we fall short, that does not justify abandoning what is right, along with those who are counting on us to demonstrate that for them. The price of integrity is small compared to the price we would pay for failure.

MaryMartha

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/