Ultimatums, Part 3

Dishing out an ultimatum gives the ultimatum-disher all the power, as I pointed out in the last post. Those who dish out ultimatums typically have nailed something that means a great deal to the person who's on the powerless end of the ultimatum, so that there would be great loss if the person on the receiving end doesn't respond to the ultimatum.  It could be the threat of actual loss of something that the person already has.  Or it could be loss of something potentially precious that the person has hoped to gain.

Let me give a couple of examples.

Terry (not his real name) had been messing around. In his teenage years he was experimenting with drugs and sleeping around with any girl who would have him, which, as it happened, was quite a few. He contracted a sexually transmitted disease, and since he was under age, his father found out about it. Medicine did its work, but as Terry's father told him, "You contract a sexually transmitted disease once, you're careless.  Get it again, you're just stupid."  To add insult to injury, Terry took his national school exams in the appointed year, and flunked. All doors of opportunity were now closed to him unless he passed the exams on his retake.

Terry's father, who had his own issues which had no doubt contributed to Terry's approach to life, felt he had run out of tools in his kit for getting Terry to come around.  "If you don't pass your exams the next time," he told Terry sternly, "and if you continue the lifestyle you've been pursuing, I am going to ask you to move out of our home." It was not just a tough-love issue, there were other children in the home and they didn't need to be affected by Terry's choices.

A tough ultimatum? You bet. Losing access to the home where things are comfortable and all your basic needs are provided, is a huge threat. Terry's father had all the power and Terry stood to lose everything.

What happened?  Terry passed his exams, but didn't change his lifestyle.  His father realized that he wasn't willing to carry through with his "throw you out of the house" ultimatum. He sent Terry off to a boarding school, hoping a change would straighten Terry up.

Terry later disowned his father and hasn't spoken to him in many years.

Ultimatums often result in completely broken family relationships. This need not be so. I am quite certain that, except on very rare occasion, ultimatums dished out within families are unnecessary and unproductive.

Having said that, here is another perspective:

Selina (again, names changed) had been dating Isaac for three months. Isaac's wife had left and divorced him after years of marriage, and now, nine months later and in another relationship, he was beset with inner questions as to whether he was free to remarry.  After all, he believed in the sacredness of wedding vows, and in the Biblical statements about not being free to remarry unless adultery was involved. Neither Isaac nor his former wife had moved on to other partners, to his knowledge.

Isaac shared his reservations and thoughts with Selina. She was shocked, dismayed, and even angry. She didn't waste much time before dishing out her ultimatum. "I'm of the opinion that you are free to move on," she said. "But if you're not, you have no business dating me, treating my own feelings and hopes lightly. You need to figure this out pretty quickly, because I'm not sticking around just to have my heart hurt worse later on."

The power in this relationship had been shared between Isaac and Selina, and yet the greater balance of power was now in Selina's hands, as she clearly was going to call a permanent time-out if Isaac didn't figure his perspective out shortly. They both stood to lose a potential relationship, and she preferred to bear that loss earlier than later. To his credit, Isaac set to the hard work of coming to a conclusion about his freedom to move on. And the happy ending is that he and Selina have been happily married for a number of years.

Was an ultimatum the right thing in this situation? Probably. A person has a right to some level of protection for being mistreated, even if that mistreatment is unintentional. A person with no boundaries dishes out no ultimatums, and suffers much for it.

(to be continued)

Ultimatums, Part 2

As I get into further ruminations about ultimatums, it's probably appropriate to stop and define an ultimatum.  Wikipedia says an ultimatum (from the Latin word meaning "the last one") "is a demand whose fulfillment is requested in a specified period of time and which is backed up by a threat to be followed through in case of noncompliance."  The description goes on to note that "the request is understood to not be open to further negotiation."

It sounds rigid and stern, doesn't it?  Well, an ultimatum is. When an ultimatum is given, it's the person giving it who is in control, fully and completely. Sure, you can say that the person on the receiving end has a choice: they can decide to respond and pony-up to meet the ultimatum, or they can decide not to. But that's a cop-out. They're still at the mercy of the individual giving the ultimatum.

When I was a little missionary kid girl living on a island in Thailand, getting a piece of chewing gum was a real treat.  There were not many imports to the shops on our island, but there was at least one shop that sold Chiclets chewing gum.  And on occasion my mom would guide our VW bus down the streets to that shop and buy a package as a treat.

I remember the day that my mother picked up one of those yellow packets of Chiclets, handed the packet to me in the seat behind her, and said, "You can each have one. Just one piece."  My memory has changed the story over time, I'm sure, but with time I recall the message being, "If you eat more than one piece,  you get a spanking."

Well, you know how Chiclets are. You chew them a little bit, and they shrink. Plus that nice crunchy sugary outside disintegrates with the chewing, and you really want to add one more to the glob, refreshing the sweetness and crunchiness. One Chiclet just cries out for another one to join it.  Before I knew it, I must have had half the packet of gum in my mouth, a nice satisfying wad that had produced new bursts of texture and sugary goodness with each added piece of gum.

When we drove into the carport at home, Mama asked for the package of Chiclets back. As soon as she saw it, she knew what I knew: it was time to carry out the threat that had been given with the initial instruction. And she did.

Sometimes, ultimatums are instructive. You choose the path that leads to the result that has been threatened, and what you were warned about, happens.  Unlike natural consequences (e.g. you touch the hot stove and you'll get burned), an instructive ultimatum delivers a threat that is concocted and then applied if and when the person at the receiving end of the ultimatum makes the "wrong" choice. And as any parent knows, that can be a fairly effective teaching tool.

(to be continued)

Ultimatums, Part 1

All photos found on the internet

I've been thinking recently about ultimatums. As has become a practice for me, I am feeling the need to write about the topic to find out what I think.

I remember little Iris (not her real name) from my multigrade classroom in California many years ago. Iris was a smiley little sprite with stringy blond hair and iffy hygiene. She wasn't particularly energetic. She liked dawdling about, dreamy-like, wafting from her desk to a friend's desk, wandering over to meditate on the new bulletin board in the corner, gazing out the window as she slowly sharpened her pencil at the pencil sharpener. She liked listening and learning, it was just getting her work done that was not the first thing on her priority list for the day.

As a very task-oriented person which extended to my teaching, I tried and tried to get Iris on task. In order to not fall behind, she needed the practice of working her math problems. If she was going to learn to write well, she needed to write. To get decent grades, she needed to finish and turn in her assigned work. So my job was to figure out how to help her focus and finish. Reminders, rewards, scoldings, chats with mom and so on--the usual tricks in a teacher's bag--didn't work. In fact, there's nothing that can make you feel worse than to scold a little, vulnerable kid and see tears well up in her eyes, and know that she's brokenhearted because she didn't intend to offend you.

At one point the back work was piling up enough that I started feeling desperate. In retrospect, I suppose that my inability to get Iris to do what I wanted her to do felt like a reflection on my own self-worth as a teacher. In any case, it felt like time for drastic measures. The row of blank squares in my grade book testified to a mountain of assignments that Iris had not turned in. And asking for help from home had not worked (maybe I wasn't specific enough?).

I issued an ultimatum. "You just have to catch up," I declared. "So you're going to spend every recess, including lunch recesses, inside doing your work until you have everything caught up. Every last thing."

The first day it took all three recesses just to get things organized. I dumped out the contents of Iris's desk on the floor and we discovered half-eaten lunch sandwiches, crumpled up partly-done language arts papers, and math sheets with problems showing repeated erasures and re-writes. Iris sighed heavily and helplessly, viewing the pile on the floor. Soon it was me who was doing the work alongside her, smoothing out the papers, tossing old food and old home newsletters into the garbage can that I'd pulled up to beside the chaos.

Day after day we spent recess times together--at least the ones where it wasn't my recess duty; on those days she stayed inside and tried to focus herself on her own, with me keeping an eye on her through the classroom's large windows toward the recess field. If there had been no new lessons and assignments, there would logically have been an end to the work and Iris would eventually have earned the privilege to go out and play. But it was a never-ending task.  Iris sat at the group table one day, tears rolling down her cheeks from those big, discouraged blue eyes.  She wanted to be out on that field with her friends, and here she was caught pushing this Sisyphean rock up the hill, finishing something off only to have it roll down again each day with new tasks noted on the assignment board.

The ultimatum had become a nightmare for Iris and me, both. I had asked of her something that she simply could not do. I was in the wrong. We needed to find some other solution. It was time to drop it and get on with life. And we did.

For years and years I felt guilty about my stern interactions with Iris, about how I had been well-meaning but had probably made her feel like dirt, about how I had handed her that ultimatum and cheated her out of seemingly weeks of recesses when she simply couldn't live up to my standard for her. She simply could not do what I had asked of her.

And then about five years ago I just happened out of curiosity to google my own name, and saw a result that I didn't recognize.  "My Heroes," it said, followed by my name. I followed the link and there I was, on Iris's MySpace page, listed as her very first hero. I was floored. I contacted Iris, telling her how I'd found her, and wondering how on earth I got on her Heroes list. She wrote back with delight at finding me, and said she had thought I was a beautiful teacher and so nice to her, and she had always admired me.

It was grace I did not deserve.

(to be continued)

If You Are Confident

Miss George, the principal

Early this month I was a speaker at a Christian school in central California.  During the week I was there, I stepped into the junior high girls' restroom (always an adventure; try it sometime), and spotted this scenario.  At first I thought the inscription read, "You are confident... You are beautiful."  It was only when I asked the principal to pose for this photo that I noticed the "if."

If you are confident, you are beautiful. Is that true? I think so. I can't think of a confident person I've met who isn't attractive.  I'm not talking about those over-confident sorts that seem oblivious to the grays in this world. That's just hubris, and it's not attractive.

You can't be confident without purpose and vision, or at least some guiding meaning in your life.  You can't be confident without a sense of self that is realistic, yet reasonably optimistic. There is something very attractive and winning about a woman who knows who she is, who is comfortable in her own skin, and lives with that sense of purpose, vision and meaning.

Kudos to Miss George, who practices what she preaches. More junior high girls should be confronted with this message... every time they step in front of a mirror.

What's Good for the Goose

I've churned out about all the heavy posting I can produce for a while. That series wore me out. And therefore I turn now to more fluffy stuff.  Or would that be feathery stuff?

Emilee and her dad were visiting this weekend.  He's one of Husband's former students, and had come over from the West Side (otherwise known as the Wet Side) to see his 14-year old daughter who lives in a town about a hour from us. They accepted an old invitation to land here for a day or two.

On Saturday evening we walked over to Lions' Park as the light was growing long and golden. Emilee was enchanted by the variety of feathered friends staking their claim to the lawn near the pond, and took off to see if she could get up close and personal. Her goal?  To catch one of the birds and cuddle it a bit. Yeah, right.

Twittering and pleading with the ducks didn't seem to entice them to strike up an acquaintance with Emilee. In fact, our snobbish feathered friends simply turned their backs and either waddled or flapped off in the other direction, dropping "gifties" on the lawn as they went. All of which was quite disappointing to our young red-haired friend.

Over by the swing sets were a lovely gaggle of snow-white geese, taller than my knees by a fair piece. I sauntered...no, sidled... over in their direction, pulling out my camera along the way.  The gander eyed me with what I concluded was quite some suspicion. Wanting to show that I was no threat to him and his lovely ladies, I stepped over to a bench and sat down, putting me much closer to eye level with him. It was a gesture of some sort that even I couldn't categorize, but apparently it was not a helpful one.

The gander stretched and posed, all the while keeping his beady eye fixed on me. Then he stepped my way.  I didn't make any escape, instead sitting still and thinking that he might soon lose interest. Husband and Emilee's dad stood watching from a little ways off, providing what they deemed amusing commentary on the dynamics of my situation.

The gander waddled right up to me, looked at me for a few moments, and when I didn't deliver what he wanted (food?  fear?) he reached down and gave a decided peck upon my sandal buckle, catching a little skin with it.

That was it. Muttering invectives at the old white-coated fowl, I rose in indignation and stalked off regally, the laughter of the men following me.

And that's about as far as I got in the wild goose chase of this weekend.

Fruitful Contemplations: Self-Control

A tropical fruit I have very little self-control with is the custard apple. It's sweet and absolutely delicious, especially eaten chilled on a hot day!

The fruit of the spirit is... self-control.  Gal. 5:22, 23

The most challenging quality in the world is saved for Paul's final punch in his list of the fruit of the Spirit. Self-control is something every single person in this world struggles with, in some way. All I have to do is make that statement, and you're thinking of what you struggle to control in yourself. It could be a sharp temper, laziness, eating, your thoughts, a critical spirit, harsh actions, gossip, a controlling spirit, whiny words ... well, the list continues at some length, including more and less "acceptable" sins.

I thought I'd address this contemplation, then, by looking at some verses in the Bible that relate to self-control.  Here is the list, with my annotations. Come along with me:

"Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control."  Prov. 25:28
Um, a pretty useless man, in other words.

"As Paul discoursed on righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come, Felix was afraid and said, 'That's enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you.'"  Acts 24:25
Sounds like a conversation about developing self-control has always been pretty inconvenient, from ancient times until now.

"So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert and self-controlled."  1 Thess. 5:6
Self-control has always required alertness.  And it seems like the more distractions there are in this world, the less I feel alert.  Just too much to keep track of, too much to knock us off guard.

"But since we belong to the day, let us be self-controlled, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet."  1 Thess. 5:8
How interesting that faith, love and hope are the actions of people who are self-controlled.  Hmmm.  Now why does that trio sound so familiar?  The surprise is the connection of these three to "self-control."  Have to think about that...

"People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, ...without self-control..."  2 Tim. 3:2-3
Now that I think of it, people tend to assume they're loving themselves when they let go of self-control, but in reality, the long-term effects are rarely loving to themselves.

"An overseer ...must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy, and disciplined."  Titus 1:7-8
And who meets that criteria?  It makes leadership look pretty much beyond anyone's abilities.

"Teach the older men to be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, and sound in the faith, in love and in endurance."  Titus 2:2
So did old men in the apostle Paul's time struggle with intemperance, bad behaviors including lack of self-control, faithlessness, absence of love and a tendency to give up easily? Maybe that's a dramatic description, when put that way. How would those older men compare with older men now?

"Therefore be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray." 1 Peter 4:7
Actually, this one makes all the sense in the world to me. I pray best when I'm clear minded and am succeeding at controlling my mind from wandering. I suppose other kinds of self-control would be beneficial as well.

"Be self-controlled and alert.  Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour."  1 Peter 5:8
There it is again.  To live as a follower of Christ in this world, alertness and self-control are crucial. We are in danger of attack at any moment. This is a threatening spiritual grassland we live in, with evil, hungry eyes focused on us, and we need to focus on not giving up a minute to dull-mindedness and inattention.

And that, faithful readers, is why the fruit of living in the Spirit of Christ is so important.  We really won't survive intact in this world unless the fruit of the Spirit ripens in us, equipping us with the godly characteristics that we need in order to be citizens of this kingdom (to use a familiar metaphor).

I can't imagine that you've persisted with me through these contemplations without concluding, as I have, that you just can't produce these characteristics on your own. You need help. I need help. We are not up to the task that we face; we don't match up to the job description for those inheritors of the kingdom.

I must close this series with two more verses, verses that address that feeling of not being up to the task.  They are revolutionary statements, dissimilar to those offered by any other religious belief. These statements are themselves worthy of your time in deep thought and reflection.


Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires.  Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the spirit.  Gal. 5:24, 25.

Belonging to Christ and putting our sinful nature, its passions and desires to a long, slow, agonizing death--those of us who have tried it know that's often how it feels--that's quite a thought! So is living and walking in step with God's Spirit, all the time. Never alone, never abandoned, always accompanied by One who loves us deeply and totally.

Let us live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. May that bear sweet, irresistible fruit in our lives!

Fruitful Contemplations: Gentleness

Speaking of gentleness, papaya has probably one of the gentler tropical fruit flavors I can think of. Typically I prefer it with some lime juice added to "liven it up."

"The fruit of the Spirit is ... gentleness."  Gal. 5:22-23

I'm sorry to report that I do not possess a gentle spirit. My life and thoughts have proven this to me time and time again as I make this one-time journey on this earth. I suppose if you put the best spin on it, it's because I live life like a speeding train always on my way to somewhere, and don't anyone get in my way. I have places to go, things to do, objectives to accomplish, and let's get on with it, chop chop.

Were I the parent of small children, it would not be good to give me the "tough love" option in dealing with my kids; instead, I would need the reminder to slow down, listen more, and try to understand.  These are things I've had to say to myself over and over as a teacher and as a leader. I am by nature impatient and goal-directed (I should hasten to say that there is an up-side to these qualities), and that does not lend itself well to fostering gentleness.

Upon reflection, I recognize that there exists in me a sneaking suspicion that people won't hear me if I don't use rather direct or forceful language in persuasion. Where I picked that up, I don't know. Perhaps it was because someone in my life heard me but chose to ignore me. Perhaps it was because of frustration over not getting what I wanted and what I thought was due to me, until I toughened up my approach.  Perhaps it was because I have gotten a reaction whenever I've been more direct, whether it be attention, response or laughter.

We all use the clues given by those around us to gauge if we're being heard or not, and adjust our communications accordingly. And once we find something that works, it tends to settle in as a habit.

I remember an incident in my second year of teaching, when I was teaching 5th - 8th graders P.E. class in a small 2-room rural school. Seventh-grader Jason was horsing around on the volleyball court, being a doofus. I'd told him to stop and get with the game, but he continued. His classmates were getting annoyed, and telling him to "Quit it!" He still kept joshing around, slapping the ball away from people and making a huge pest of himself.  I told him again, and he didn't quit.

I had reached the end of my gentleness tether. I walked over to Jason, grabbed him by the arm and twisted it behind his back until it hurt, and marched him off the court, telling him to "SIDDOWN!!!"

Then I saw that he was crying from the surprise and pain, and suddenly I recognized what I had done. Worse yet, a fifth grader who was Jason's friend called out as he went to Jason's side, "Teacher, you abused Jason!"

I was horrified. All in that one second I realized the wrong I had done, and the fact that at least the fifth grader, if not the entire class, would never forget that moment and would hold it against me. I apologized to Jason and apologized to the class.

I got the students back into the game, and as soon as the class period was done I sought out the head teacher and told him what had happened. I expected Jason's parents, if not the school board, to come down hard on me. And I would have deserved it.  But nothing happened, and no parent ever spoke of it to me.

The fifth grader and Jason, however, distrusted me for the rest of my time working at that school. Quite understandably so. I have always regretted the incident, as well as a few others in my life in which gentleness was completely absent.

And I suspect there are many who could name their own lapses in the exercise of gentleness, whether physical, verbal, or emotional.

In considering gentleness as a fruit of living in the Spirit, I think the issue lies with our vision.  How do we see others around us?  Have we been sensitive enough to the Spirit to have our eyes opened to the fragility and humanity of others?  To carry it even further, have we accepted God's view of us, which is perfect in its gentleness?

I'm not recommending a view of people that is namby-pamby. God makes it clear that there is accountability and there is judgment. But I truly believe that as we see through Spirit-corrected vision, we will see others in a gentler light, and our own actions and thoughts towards them will become accordingly less harsh. We'll not only be physically gentle with others, but we'll back off of emotional arm-twisting, issuing ultimatums, telling one another off, holier-than-thou admonitions, and critical statements and zingers that cut people off at the knees.

If we bore the fruit of gentleness, there would be a lot less pain in this world. And it would be mighty nice to live in a world like that.