AtQ – What Are You Trying to Justify?

Exploring Powerful Questions

As I was writing this week’s AtQ, I couldn’t bring myself to keep it behind a paywall. So, this week’s AtQ is available to all subscribers for free.

In this week’s talking note, I explored the idea of self-justification. That is, the attempt for us to prove for ourselves, and maybe for others too, that we are in the right. I explored two ways that self-justification might be accomplished. One is through an achievement orientation. The other is through an idol of authenticity. In the first, we say that our actions are justified because we are an accomplished person (and we have the receipts to back it up). In the second, we say that our actions are justified because they were an honest expression of the way we are (and that can never be wrong).

Both ways are self-focused, leaving little room for concern for another being. More so, both will ultimately fall short of the true requirement of justification. There aren’t accomplishments, either single or accumulated, that can justify a person. There isn’t an expression of self that can do it either. True justification comes by experiencing unearned love through interpersonal relationship – that is, from someone else.

The harder truth is that we can all slip into a pattern of self-justification. Rather than deal with the possible guilt or shame of being wrong, it is easier to mount an offense of self-justification. If this is true, how might we unravel ourselves from this pattern. The first thing we can do is get curious, and that is exactly what this week’s question is designed to do.

What Are You Trying to Justify?

This is a “dig deep” kind of question, so you may want to prepare yourself for what can come up when exploring this. In preparation, I will often remind myself of moments of unearned love that I have experienced. These may be moments from family, friends, even through my faith. As I write, I’m noting the timing (albeit unplanned) of this topic as we lead up to the commemoration of Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection – the most profound act of love I’ve personally experienced. If moments of unearned love don’t immediately come to mind, consider moments of unearned kindness or favor – from people you know or even strangers.

The unearned part is especially important because it prevents us from making the gift about something we did or something we are. If we think we deserve the love we are receiving then anytime we don’t receive the love we expect we may come to frustration, contempt, or anger – defending our deservedness. Or we may come to doubt our position of being deserving, think we are undeserving, and walk down a more self-destructive path. Both ways lead to peril.

Instead, what happens when we ask our question? Approaching ourselves with curiosity allows for an honest conversation. What are we trying to justify? Maybe it is an action – what I did was right. Maybe it’s a position in an interaction – I didn’t do anything to warrant that response. Maybe it’s a desire – it can’t be wrong to want that.

I want to offer the following progression of a common pattern for the self-justifier, speaking about myself. Let’s start with the idea of justifying an action. I might begin by saying, “What I did was right.” If we remove some of the words, pushing the statement to be even more personal, it becomes, “I was right.” Press the sentiment further and, “I am right,” might show up.

The interactive position begins with, “I didn’t do anything to warrant that response.” Pressing it to be more personal makes it, “I didn’t do anything [wrong].” There is the possible added sentiment of, “I didn’t do anything wrong, but you did.” Press it further and, “I don’t do anything wrong (but you do),” might show up.

Finally in justifying desires, we begin with, “It can’t be wrong to want that.” Press it and the statement becomes, “It can’t be wrong.” Even further, it might become, “I can’t be wrong.”

These sentiments sting of perfection and lack humility. They also are static. If I am right, I don’t do anything wrong (but you do), and I can’t be wrong, there is also no place for me to learn, grow, or change, let alone transform.

Of course, it is rare to find someone who believes that they are right, or can’t be wrong, in all areas of their life. These sentiments may only hold true only in particular areas or very specific situations. And for those areas and situations, there are two ways forward I would like to offer.

Give Up

Defending ourselves, whether to friends and family or to God, is exhausting. Giving up on the defending, notably not on our position, is akin to calling for peace. It is saying that I will stop defending myself, but I haven’t necessarily conceded my position. Giving up on defending ourselves allows for a shift. What would happen if I stop defending myself? Instead of warring, there may be peace. There may be opportunity to work out the thing we were defending – what am I trying to justify? Instead of all our energy being spent defending, we might experience space to get curious – what is actually going on? Giving up isn’t about giving in, it’s about conceding that there may be something more important than being at war.

Consider the Aim

What’s more important? Finding ourselves in the right, or something else? Maybe the way we relate to those we love is more important than being right? Maybe having space to see our own intentions is more important than being right? Of course, it is a wonderful feeling to find ourselves justified, to realize that we have been doing the right thing. It is also of immense importance to discover if we have somehow been doing something wrong. Self-justification puts being right over even the opportunity to discover that we might be wrong.

I want to be clear here – I’m not advocating for some kind of consistent self-doubt – a kind of purposeful unknowing. That would be debilitating. What I am saying is that while assurance is possible, I have yet to find a human being without a blindside. Rather, humility comes from having a realistic view of our own limitations. Knowing that we might be wrong – while possibly hard to take – allows for a reality that isn’t built on us being right all the time (even in a particular area).

But we’ll never know, unless we ask the questions.