a lesson from rattlesnake grass

Many years ago when I was in high school I went on a beach camping trip with a church youth group. The campground was on one side of a large sand dune/hill, the other side was the vast Pacific ocean. Being the typical teenagers in need of drama and hyperactivity we set out when it was dark to walk the dune trail to the beach. (Yes, we were that group of kids that probably annoyed the entire campground with our loud teenage voices and OMG's.) As we ventured into the dark with one flashlight, our way was found by clinging together and following the leader whom we trusted would be following the trail. Can you picture this scene? Hear it?

After a few minutes of walking, laughing, we were suddenly stopped in our tracks by the sound of a rattlesnake. The tell tale noise of its tail rattling in the night air gripped our hearts and drove panic into every vein and cell of our body. We froze. Then screamed. Then "sshhhhhh'd" each other. All in a matter of seconds.

And then for a few moments we breathed silence.

We all stood there in the night air clinging together, the floor of the trail barely visible, the only sounds being that of our pounding hearts and the ocean waves breaking in the distance.

When we gathered enough courage we moved a few steps and the rattle began again. And again we screamed, paralyzed in our tracks.

Somewhere, in the dark, near our feet and legs, was a predator ready to strike and we were helpless.

At least this is what we sincerely believed while standing in the dark.

You may have already put the pieces together, by my picture and your own personal experience, but we were not standing within inches of a deadly rattle snake. We were surrounded by the dry summer "rattlesnake" grass that lined the trail. Every brush against it sent an eerie impersonating rattle that tricked our already hyper night time senses.

The problem was that in the dark, under the grip of fear, our senses led us to the sincerity of belief that we were in trouble, about to be attacked.

And we were sincerely wrong.

I can laugh at that story now. I did when I came across the rattlesnake imposters on our nature walk last weekend. But the more meaningful lessons did not come to me until I read that quote above on a fellow blogger's page and then my mind got to thinking.

I have had many conversations with my son about this very truth: that the greatest of wrongs can be attempted to be excused with the use sincerity but sincerity will rarely save you.

I sincerely didn't mean to hurt my sister...
I sincerely meant to do my chores but I forgot...
I sincerely want to be kind, patient, loving, but she bugs me so much...

We talk about how sincerity is nice gesture (or afterthought), but it most likely will not excuse you from consequences.

I sincerely didn't mean to slap my wife, pull the trigger, lie to the accountants, run a red light, drink that extra drink.

Sincerity will not keep you out of jail.


It is easy to see the blatant examples of the misuse of sincerity, but harder to identify them in the context of relationships and emotions.

For example, sometimes...
We easily form sincere beliefs about others based on information that we gather under the duress of fear and darkness. Because of our own dysfunctional flaws we perceive others through the grid of our emotions, insecurities, fears, and form assumptions and conclusions about an individual or group that we believe to be sincerely right and true.

We have over active, hyper night time senses.
We might believe an attack is imminent.
All of the information we have gathered proves this must be true.

And sadly, we will lay awake at night forming every defense to support the sincerity and rightness of our beliefs. We will even talk and gossip with those who support and confirm our rightness. (Because if they are sincerely convicted of our rightness then our sincerity must be right!) Then, to complete the deadly cycle, we will continue to view every action or word or decision that individual or group makes through the glasses of our sincere beliefs, forever trapping them in the box that we have created for them.

If you have ever been on either end of this, like I have, then you will know as the perpetrator of this cycle, it is painfully hard to bend in humility with the thought that although your beliefs may be sincere, your sincerity does not always equal rightness or truth. And as the victim, it is a painful, hurtful, place to be when someone has cornered you into an identity that you do not own and cannot even contradict because the other person is so steadfast in his/her beliefs about you. How can you argue with someone who is so determined in her rightness? It is a loosing battle. (I have been on that end and it is exhausting and hurtful.)

I must recognize that fear, pride, rampant ego (or a warped sense of self), deep insecurity, anger, unresolved hurt, and an unforgiving heart (bitterness) all create the "darkness" that blinds me to recognizing the fake from the real thing. They create the glasses through which I view people and are the culprits of my misguided beliefs. It is a simple fact of human nature: flawed people sometimes draw flawed conclusions. Flawed conclusions cause me to react in knee jerk fashion to any and all assumed attacks. And they will most likely imprison me in the sincere belief that I am actually the victim. They will leave me paralyzed on the trail with no more "light" than I started out with. What a sad sad place to be. And what a sad cycle into which we pull others.

We all do this.  So my simple warning is this: be careful not to mistake the sincerity of your emotions for the truth. Instead, recognize your emotions as symptoms of a deeply rooted belief system that is guiding your perceptions and therefore, your reactions. Get to the roots and you will find the real issues. If the roots have issues, then work to heal them and you will free yourself and the others you have pulled along with you.

Sweep your hands through some rattlesnake grass (remembering my teenage story) to remind you of this. I know that I will.