The Tragic Flaw

I can't help myself, I really feel the need to explore the notion of The Tragic Flaw. I am sure this is an exaggeration, but it seems to me that about a third of the major news stories have as an undercurrent this notion of the tragic flaw in their subjects. Whether it's in the world of politics, sports, high finance, or follywood, the people making the news are those who have been exposed for the presence of a tragic flaw that has compromised their reputation, ended their careers and in some cases even ended their lives.

Before I wander off too far, I think it's imperative that we get a handle on what I mean by The Tragic Flaw. Humor me here. The word tragic means disastrous, pathetic, or fatal. The word flaw refers to a defect or a crack that mars perfection. Therefore, the concept of The Tragic Flaw refers to the seemingly inexplicable hitch in a person's giddy-up that can cause them to stumble and fall at the worst possible time, in the worst possible place. The fall is typically so disastrous that the person feels that there is little to no hope for recovery.

As I write, I can't help but think of the two men who have dominated the news most recently because of the exposure of their tragic flaws: the governor of my home state, Mark Sanford, and the former quarterback of the Tennessee Titans, Steve McNair. I have been thinking about these men because their family profiles fit mine to a tee--both fairly young, both the father of four boys, both with lots to look forward to.

My initial response to their fall was presumably the same as yours: one (hopefully faint) part schadenfreude, one part judgmental arrogance. If I thought it once I thought it 50 times: How can two men who have so much to live for get caught up in that? How can they be so foolish?

But upon further review, I realize my default response is flawed and potentially tragic. It may sound cliche, but "there but by the grace of God go I." I am fully capable of falling in the same way, or some way similar to McNair and Sanford. And you are, too. The reality is that we are all of us, tragically flawed.

Borrowing from the imagery of Eden, we all have a tree in the middle of our gardens that represents forbidden but tempting fruit. It's a tree whose convenient seemingly flawless fruit promises to fill the void in our soul.

• This tree produces soul mates when we are married but unfulfilled.
• It provides the fruit of significance and security when we wonder if we are loved.
• It offers the fruit of status when we are afraid that our stuff doesn't measure up.
• It offers the thrill of adventure when our lives seem drab and monotonous.
• It offers the delusion of control when our lives seem unmanageable.

I could go on and on but I don't need to. Suffice it to say we are all tragically flawed because there is a tree in the middle of our gardens. When things aren't going the way we want, or when we are experiencing unmet expectations, we tend to turn to the fruit that promises quick and easy resolution.

So what do we do?

First, respect and acknowledge the flaw. God pointedly told Adam and Eve about the tree and its deadly fruit. He wanted to bring to light the powerful lure of darkness and the deception that lurks in the shadows. The hope was that knowing the truth would set them free to avoid the danger.

Second, "Pray that you may not enter into temptation." (Luke 22:40) Being tempted by the tree and entering into that temptation are two different things. Jesus told us that we should daily ask that God would not lead us into temptation and that He would deliver us from evil. It is good to know when danger is near; it is better to avoid it.

Third, be grateful that you are standing and in gracious humility help those who have fallen. Galatians is very clear. "Brethren, even if a man is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ."

The presence of the tragic flaw is undeniable. Succumbing to its compelling call is unnecessary.