Blame
Blame was the second sin. Adam fell by eating the forbidden fruit, but he cut himself off from restoration when he blamed God for giving to him the woman who “caused” him to disobey.
Eve ducked the accusing finger thrust at her and turned to blame the serpent. Yea, “The Devil made me do it.” And, the Devil blames God, as he did with Job. Even some Christian theology blames God. Blame shuts the door on repentance, for blame comes to us so much more easily than self-incrimination.
The first defense of a world that is lacking personal responsibility is to blame someone else. The serpent did his best in introducing sin into the world, and it is more than he could have ever hoped for. Today, parents blame each other. They blame their children. Children blame their brothers and sisters, and in time, they blame their parents for all their problems and faults.
Citizens blame the government. One half of the government blames the other half. The poor blame the rich. The rich blame the lazy. The lazy blame their lot in life on the lack of opportunity, and so it goes, singing the Devil’s song. If repentance is a mark of the Spirit’s work in a person’s life, blame is a mark of Satan’s work. As God inhabits the praise of his people, the Devil inhabits the bitterness of blame.
Blame takes less effort than a creative solution. Blame conceals personal guilt, inferiority, stupidity, and carelessness. It is easier to accuse another than to take responsibility. Blame is as useless as cussing the heavens . . . and just as sinful.
Now, why does a magazine dedicated to training up children have a discussion on the subject of blame? Because blaming your children comes all too easily and must be eliminated if you are going to save them from the jaws of destruction. If a painter paints a bad picture, would it be appropriate to blame the canvas? If a couple brings a brand new child into this world, and under their management he turns out poorly, who is to “blame”? Certainly not the child.
Let’s dissect this culprit. I see such a tendency in myself, one that is less manifest today than it was 25 years ago, but still there—a tendency to blame. I often laugh at myself. I am ridiculous, illogical, and even downright evil in my tendency. When anything goes wrong, I often feel the immediate impulse to blame—an irrational, unfounded compulsion. It usually doesn’t manifest itself in accusing anyone, for I quickly see myself just as would an outside observer, and laugh at the absurdity of it.
Those closest to us are the ones who get blamed the most. They are conveniently close targets. I remember when my children were all still at home, that anything got out of order, I “knew” one of the kids was to blame. If I couldn’t find a tool, it was, “Which one of you boys had the hammer?” I got so used to blaming them that five years after they were all gone, whenever I couldn’t find a tool, my first response was to blame them. For several years, I seriously suspected them of slipping back home and misplacing my tools. Who else would do it? After all, it is missing. It’s somebody’s fault. Even this very day, as I write this, I needed the rake and looked everywhere for it. I walked from place to place looking for it, and several times felt the spirit of blame. “Who took my rake?” When frustration comes upon us, blaming someone is an instant relief valve. Yes, I eventually remembered where I left it. And, yes, I was to blame, but I am not as hard on myself as I would have been on the kids for misplacing the rake. After all, I reason, I didn’t intend to hide it from myself, and it is my rake, so if I use it somewhere and forget it, then there is no blame for a poor memory. But what if someone else had been responsible for misplacing it? Well, then they would be to blame. That only makes sense in the emotions.
