Our internal “conversation” is broken, muddled by lies and half-truths. St. Augustine has the answer to the problem.
Last week -- in what turned out to be one of our readers' favorite articles -- I wrote about the importance of honesty to make communication work. We’re all talking past each other because of all the assumptions we make.
The same dynamic is present in our internal monologue, the things we say to ourselves, the self-image we curate, the self-justifications we employ in order to feel better. The result is the same, our internal “conversation” is broken, muddled by lies and half-truths.
A child argues it’s okay to hit his brother because, “He started it.” The guy in the sitcom stuffing his pockets with sugar packets argues that the restaurant “wants” him to take them all (cue the laugh track). I used to tell myself the boss didn’t mind if I come back late from lunch. I still tell myself I can drive excessively fast on the highway because “everyone else does it.” I justify my impatience, saying I’m tired. I justify my tiredness as over-work when, in fact, it’s because I stayed up late watching television. I pretend the bad things I do are okay and that the good things I do are heroic.
If I were to be given a crayon and instructed to draw a picture of my soul, the result would be a mess of inaccuracies and photo-shopped idealizations. I know for a fact that even my writing, the essays, homilies, and books I pour my heart into in an attempt to be transparent and make authentic connections with readers, even these are marred by self-justifying distortions.
Our previous archbishop here in St. Louis used to tell a story about how, when he was in high-school, he would look in the mirror each morning and would think about how handsome and amazing he looked and how all the girls at school were going to be impressed. Most men, I think, tend to overestimate our appearance in the mirror. I can’t help but notice that, in popular televisions shows, whenever a woman looks in a mirror she’s usually dissatisfied. I don’t know if this division of the sexes is accurate or not but, whoever it is we think we see in the mirror, it’s not accurate.
Not too long ago, I looked in the mirror and, in a rare moment of honesty, noticed that I’ve put on some weight. My immediate reaction was self-justification. I’ve been injured and cannot get in my usual jogs. It was the holidays and I had to eat all those cookies. I’m getting older and gaining weight is only natural, having nothing to do with my gluttony or laziness.
A funhouse mirror
Self-justification is a form of lying. It’s like a funhouse mirror that reflects back a completely different image.
The great saints recognized the problem. St. Paul wondered why he did things he didn’t want to do and, yet, did not do the things he did want to do. St. Augustine likened it to floating outside himself, unable to accurately diagnose the motivations of his own heart. When everything is layered in self-justification, we become mysteries impossible to solve.
I’m not a great saint, but every time I make an examination of conscience, I recognize the same problem. I barely know myself well enough to identify my sins. I’ve obfuscated for so long that untangling them is well-nigh impossible. I’ve convinced myself that long-standing habits aren’t actually sinful, that my impatience and arrogance are justified, and if others were offended by me it’s their own fault.
It’s a form of lying to myself. A lie I barely even admit exists. I explain it away into oblivion. I forget I’m lying and really begin believing the false assumptions. I feel better about myself, but have completely lost touch with who I really am. This is the cost of the lies.
In the midst of a self-justification spree, my memories and self-assessments become unreliable. I no longer have the ability to improve or change because I cannot accurately name my flaws to begin with. Instead of honesty, I want to save face and avoid embarrassment.
Recovering reality
Eventually, enough is enough. It’s time to get real.
But how to start? When we’ve been self-justifying for so long, it’s not easy to recover reality. St. Augustine offers the solution – God knows us perfectly. If we’re outside, God is still inside.
This is why my first piece of advice for everyone who wants to stop justifying their actions and make a better confession is to first ask the Holy Spirit for accurate self-knowledge. God can help us cut through our self-justifications and finally get honest.
My second suggestion is to practice naming those actions objectively and clearly, not couching them in self-justifications about how they were caused by stress or reactions to someone else or from experiencing a bad day. Once we uncover the reality of our sins, it’s time to take responsibility.
Third, those who know us best are often able to keep us accountable by calling out flaws that we’re in denial about. A good friend or family member who speaks the truth in love is invaluable.
Finally, for me at least, it’s all about perception. The gap between who I want to be and who I really am doesn’t need to be erased. Rather, it’s an opportunity. When we stop lying to ourselves, we’ll finally be on the path of self-improvement.
