An accidental fireworks explosion in San Diego that is oddly familiar.

I’m sure we all know someone who combs ten inches of hair over a wide, shiny bald dome and actually thinks he is hiding something. This hopeless cover-up is similar to whatever we think we are hiding that in reality everyone else sees. The problem is, most people, out of common courtesy or more likely fear of embarrassment, don’t tell us what they see. Like talking to someone with bad breath or food on their face, they let us go on to offend or amuse some other unsuspecting soul. The first thing about standing in someone else’s shoes is that you see yourself for the first time without all your blind spots and cover-ups.

It’s virtually impossible to get another view of yourself by yourself. Just like we need at least two mirrors to see the angles most other people see of us, we need other people to tell us who we really are.

Whenever I get my haircut – which is about once every two months, whether I need it or not (and I always do) – the hairdresser always hands me a mirror when he’s done and swivels my chair to where I can hold the mirror up to the mirror on the wall behind me and marvel at the job he did on the back of my head. I hate that view.

People can serve as our character mirrors, and we need to be vulnerable to what they tell us. My wife and children think I look silly when I get mad. My anger obviously is not having the effect on them that I envision. I think they should be cowering, and they are laughing. I interpret their laughter as disrespect, when, if I could really see myself — if I could stand inside heir shoes — I might laugh too.

We need to have people around us who can tell us the truth. This is one of the most valuable elements of the recovery group model. By simply showing up you are forced to encounter a different view of yourself than you have been holding most or all of your life. In a recovery group, you are putting yourself among people whom you might have formerly judged as lower than yourself. This is why showing up is the hardest part. You walk into a room full of individuals who all have a problem, and you immediately say to yourself, “I don’t belong here. I’m not really this bad. These are the people who have hit bottom and have nowhere else to go. Me… I’m different. I’m only experimenting with this. I’m just checking it out; I won’t need to be here long. After all, these are all old bald guys.”

Eventually you discover that God has a special spot in His heart for old bald guys, and that by His Spirit, He can empower them like anyone else.