Lessons from Literature: Avoiding Defensiveness (Pride and Prejudice)

Have you ever wondered what makes some literature “classic”? Aside from purely literary criteria, I’d venture to guess that one quality of classic literature is its enduring message, i.e. its ability to transcend time and place with its treatment of human nature and its illumination of realities in the world around us.

If you’ve ever read a classic, then you likely know the moment of “Ah! Yes!” that comes from reading a sentence written hundreds of years ago yet delivering a message so relevant it could’ve been written yesterday. In short, there are loads of lessons to be learned from literature, and this post serves as the inaugural “Lessons from Literature” vignette. And who better to begin with than Jane Austen?

Unfortunately, Austen’s works are often pigeon-holed into the “chick-flick” category due to the romantic plot lines, but her novels are so incredibly deeper than boy-and-girl-meet-and-fall-in-love. Her understanding of humanity, of both the self and society, is so perceptive as to leave me shaking my head in amazement. In fact, when it comes to an Austen novel, I will actually mark in it as if it were a non-fiction book. Her insight is just that profound.

Perhaps this is why Dr. Richard Land, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, once told a young man who asked him for book recommendations to read all of Jane Austen’s novels. Dr. Land shared that he himself reads one a year until he reads them all then cycles through them again.

This year, as I’m participating in The Light Theater’s production of Pride and Prejudice (which you can learn about here), I’m on my second read-through of the 1813 novel and am enjoying it just as much as the first. One particular “light-bulb” moment came in Chapter 36 where Elizabeth Bennet is reading Mr. Darcy’s letter. . .

 **SPOILER ALERT—although if you haven’t read the novel, the following might whet your appetite!**

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.

“How despicably have I acted!” she cried; “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or [blameable] distrust. How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself” (Austen, 162).

The context here is that Mr. Darcy has just enlightened Elizabeth to a series of circumstances of which she was completely unaware and which now have revealed that she has been harboring unjust opinions of not one but two men. Simply put, she was in the wrong, and she has just been awakened to the fact. Yet her response is striking.

Instead of shooting back arrows of defensiveness, she humbly allows the letter’s information to sink in and honestly assesses the influence it must now have on her perspective moving forward. Recognizing that the very attitude she thought was a virtue is instead a terrible vice, she becomes ashamed of her actions and confesses her error.

What a wonderful example! How often, when we are confronted with our own failings, do we bristle up and throw out a stream of excuses instead of responding with humble reflection and change? When others offer constructive criticism or when circumstances make apparent our weaknesses, what is our response? Hopefully, it is like that of Elizabeth’s.

I can’t help but see the parallels especially between the mode of revelation for Elizabeth and the one for greater humanity. Just as Mr. Darcy’s letter exposed Elizabeth’s misjudgment, so another letter exposes our depravity, i.e. the Bible, written to us from God to reveal Himself to us and show us our sinful nature and need for Him.  

The Word of God is like a sweeping spotlight and laser beam all in one, illuminating our lives and pinpointing where we fall short of holiness. It never fails to accomplish its work (see Isaiah 55:11), and we would be remiss to balk at the instruction it gives. Yes, the process will be painful, as confessing our own error often is; we will be able to say with Elizabeth, “How humiliating is this discovery!”

But if we follow her example and avoid defensiveness, we will also be able to utter with her, “Yet, how just a humiliation!” We will be able to allow the change to happen that needs to take place, and our lives will be the sweeter for it.

So when we read God’s Letter to us and are convicted, let us follow in Elizabeth Bennet’s footsteps and resist the urge to be defensive. Let us respond with humility, remembering the admonition, “My son, do not despise the LORD’s discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the LORD reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights” (Proverbs 3:11-12, ESV). And when we are confronted from any source with our own failings, let us heed the call, “Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil” (Proverbs 3:7).

Citation: Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. London: Penguin, 1994.

Confessions of an Only Child

In my twenty-four years as an only child, I’ve heard my share of…shall we say, interesting…comments. Many times people are curious about what it’s like to be an only child—and rightly so. There’s certainly a healthy level of curiosity involved in wanting to hear about someone else’s life experience. But many times the questions I’ve been asked when someone hears I’m an only child have been less-than-thoughtful. 

So for the sake of all the other only children out there, and in the interest of helping everyone else avoid creating an embarrassing situation, I thought I’d share a few things that probably shouldn’t be said to an only child.

“So are you spoiled?”

This has to be one of the most common stereotypes of only children—and one of the most frustrating. First of all, spoiled people usually don’t realize they’re spoiled, so asking that question is rather unproductive. Of course, there’s always the declarative form of this sentiment, as well: “I bet you’re spoiled.”

Umm… thank you? I mean, really—what’s an only child to say to that?

Yes? No? I don’t know?  

Usually the “spoiled” question begs another question: What do you mean by spoiled? If you mean getting to spend a lot of time with my parents and having a really close relationship with them, then yeah, I guess I am. But if you mean always getting what I want, having my parents bow to my every whim, etc., then I am most definitely not spoiled.

On my more snarky days, I have been known to respond to this question with, “Spoiled? No way—I’m the only one to do the chores!” [Confession—we didn’t have “chores” per say, but the basic principle is still the same. Whenever my parents needed help, I was the only option.]

Of course, there probably are spoiled only children out there, just like there are spoiled youngest, middle, and oldest children too. But the point is, it’s not very wise to assume someone is spoiled just because of their birth order, nor is it polite to confront them with such an assumption, even if uttered jokingly. Just like everyone else, only children appreciate people getting to know them before making assumptions about their lives.

“Oh, your parents got lucky with you and didn’t need any more, huh?”

Again, what’s an only child to say to that? I think most people, especially older children/young adults, have a pretty good understanding that they’re not this perfect little angel. So, aside from being confusing, this question raises a whole host of other presuppositions that can introduce some troubling subliminal messages into the mind of an only child—particularly a young one.

Take my case for instance. I’d heard this assertion countless times, never knowing how to respond. Then, at age ten, I found out I was going to be a big sister. Now just think, if I had bought into the idea that my parents hadn’t had any more kids because I was sufficient, then what was I to think when there was going to be a new baby in the family? That somehow I wasn’t enough for them? That I wasn’t good enough, so they had to try again?

Of course, I know these are utter lies. But that just goes to show that the idea that an only child is an only child because he or she is sufficient to satisfy his or her parents is a dangerous one to plant in only children’s minds, especially since they very well could have lost a sibling, like me. Plus, on the other hand, the idea could easily lead to a wrongly-inflated ego if the only child hasn’t lost any siblings.

A good principle to remember here is that we often are not privy to people’s backstories; therefore our understanding of their situation might be totally inaccurate, and filtering our comments would be wise.

“Are your parents trying for more kids?”

*…crickets…*

This one is just down-right awkward—not to mention terribly confusing for the younger members of the only child club. And, yes, I have been asked this before.

First of all, asking a child about his or her parents’ sex life is embarrassing for the child and invasive for the parents. But also, like the previous question, this one can lead to some serious doubt when it comes to self-worth. The implication, particularly when coupled with the “you’re good enough” idea, is that if the answer is yes, then something must be wrong with the only child.

If the answer is no, the next question becomes “Why not?” Again, awkward and invasive.

But there’s a third possible answer to this question that many either seem to be ignorant of or to brush off casually, and it’s an answer accompanied by considerable pain.

When I was asked this question, it was after our family had lost my little sibling. So my family had been blessed with another child, but the Lord saw fit to take him or her from us before birth. Thus, this question was a potent reminder of who we had lost, and the person who asked me understandably seemed embarrassed and apologetic for her thoughtlessness when I told her about the miscarriage.

Here again, the principle applies: we never know what we don’t know about a person’s story.

So my challenge to you today is to be thoughtful in your curiosity. Instead of the questions above, ask things such as “Did you like being an only child? Were you ever lonely? What did you enjoy about being an only child? What has being an only child taught you about relationships and about life? How do you think being an only child has shaped the kind of person you are today?” Questions such as these convey real interest in an individual’s life as well as recognition that people are unique and can’t be pigeonholed into neat little boxes.

When you talk to only children from this thoughtful posture, instead of receiving blank stares, stuttering hesitations, or snarky responses, you might open up a world of delightful, interesting conversation. And who knows—you just might make a new friend. 

The Law: God's Love in Disguise

Oftentimes in discussions about the Bible or God there emerges a dichotomy between the Old and New Testaments—the idea that the two somehow reveal a “different” God or at least a different side of Him. This contrast is often expressed as Law vs. Love or Judgment vs. Grace with the former term being associated with the Old Testament and the latter with the New.

Yet while it is true that the judgment of God is more obvious in the Old Testament (wholesale destruction of peoples, plagues, etc.), does it follow that the love of God is absent? I don’t think so. In fact, there are abounding examples of God’s love in the Old Testament, beginning with the promise of a Savior to reverse the curse in Genesis 3. But I believe one of the more overlooked exhibitions of divine love actually can be found in the Law itself.

To fully grasp this notion, it is helpful to understand the culture of the Ancient Near East, i.e. of the Israelites’ contemporaries. Immersed in a worldview with numerous gods, the people of Mesopotamia were forever concerned with appeasing their capricious deities. The purpose of their existence was to make sure the gods were happy, yet they could never truly know what it would take to guarantee favor from the gods. Thus, they were enslaved to the whims of those they worshiped.

Enter Yahweh, the God of the Bible. Not only does He condescend to commune with the people of Israel, but also He lays out specifically what His standards are, both in speech and in writing (See Deuteronomy 5:22). Instead of leaving His people to wonder what is required of them, He tells them plainly and to their face.

“For this commandment that I command you today is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend to heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart so that you can do it. See, I have set before you today life and good, death and evil” (Deuteronomy 30:11-15, ESV).  

In other words, God made the law accessible to them when He certainly didn’t have to, and He gave them a clear choice instead of leaving them to guess their fate. That seems pretty loving to me. But it doesn’t stop there.

As it readily became apparent, God’s standard of keeping the Law and “turn[ing] to the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul” was nigh impossible to keep without some kind of outside intervention (Deut. 30:10). Try as they might, the Israelites could not meet the requirements of a holy God, for their hearts were bent toward rebellion and hardened in apathy.

The Law thus became a constant reminder of the people’s need for help. As Paul wrote in Romans 7:7 and 3:20, “Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin,” for “through the law comes knowledge of sin.” Without God’s provision of the Law, His people would not have been even cognizant of the fact that they were destined for eternal separation from Him! So in communicating the Law, God demonstrated His love by waking His people up to the fact that their souls were in dire straits. But again, it doesn’t stop there.

Yahweh, having revealed His standard and having shown His people their inability to live up to it, then promised a solution: “And I will give them one heart, and a new spirit I will put within them. I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh, that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them. And they shall be my people, and I will be their God” (Ezekiel 11:19-20, ESV).  

This promise was fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ, who is God Himself and became a human in order to live the life that none of them could—a life that perfectly met God’s standard. And having lived that perfect life, He—a completely innocent man—sacrificed Himself, taking the full force of God’s judgment that was due all those who had fallen short of the standard.

Then, after satisfying God’s wrath with the spilling of His innocent blood, He rose from the dead to be received by God the Father in glory and to provide the opportunity for the Israelites to take His righteousness from His perfect life upon themselves. By acknowledging their failure to meet God’s standard, i.e. to obey His Law, by turning from their selfish, prideful way, and by trusting in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection to be sufficient for their salvation, they would receive, by the power of the Holy Spirit, that new heart that made it possible to live according to God’s will.

So the God of the Bible (the Old Testament and the New), showed His love by revealing His Law, illuminating the state of the people’s souls, and providing a way for His standard to be met once and for all. But what’s even more staggering than that is the realization that this love was not limited to God’s chosen people of Israel.

This same Law has been revealed to us, still effectively showing us the condition of our souls. And the standard-meeting, wrath-appeasing sacrifice of Christ is efficient for our salvation just as it was for those in biblical times who believed. 

What a matchless love! Have you experienced it for yourself?