How good are you at being wrong?

There’s a beautifully written, perfectly acted scene in an old TV show: two characters, husband and wife, have been in a heated argument. As they’re beginning to see one another’s point of view, and the heat is about to seep out of the argument, one admits that they were in the wrong.

Just as they add, ‘however’ - about to defend their corner - the other jumps in immediately: 'No. No "however". Just be wrong. Just stand there in your wrongness and be wrong and get used to it!'

Facing up to being wrong

Almost nothing about this moment should resonate with the viewer: these two characters are the First Lady of the USA and the President, respectively, in TV series The West Wing, having their first argument in the Oval Office. But anyone who has been in a real relationship of any kind will recognise this dynamic instantly - the desire to underline the other person’s wrongness, to have them admit it rather than reaching for caveats or excuses.

Sticking with the White House, polls and political pundits have been publicly wrong, embarrassingly wrong, in their predictions about the recent US election. Rory Stewart, a former Tory leadership contender, provides an awkward example. The polls to the contrary, he tweeted: ‘But this won't be a close race decided by a "couple of thousand votes" […] Kamala Harris will win.’ Someone asked what lessons he might learn were he to be wrong. He responded:

'It's a really good question. Obviously if I've totally miscalled this, it would [sic] be a massive lesson in humility. And would suggest my whole framework is cracked. Let's see.'

And we did see. What followed (especially in the election night coverage on Stewart’s podcast) was the dawning realisation that he had been spectacularly wrong. And I felt ambivalence as I listened: lurking in my psyche (I’m ashamed to say) is the inner cynic who loves seeing others be wrong, and loves saying ‘I told you so’. Especially in the zero-sum, winner-takes-all arguments of social media, we’re out for blood. But at the same time, I felt intense mortification on Stewart’s behalf. How would I feel, if I were shown - publicly and spectacularly - to be in the wrong? Think of the lengths we go to, the evasions and the compromises, all so that we can avoid admitting error, and save face. Who wants to stand in their wrongness and be wrong?

The struggle with cognitive dissonance

Now, I ought to say, it wasn’t clear from his podcast the morning after that Stewart had yet learned his massive lesson in humility. When asked whether he was oblivious about Trump’s popularity because of a patronising distance from the average US voter, Stewart both denied being patronising and at the same time said his confidence in Harris was ‘a bet on hope’, reflecting his unwillingness to align himself ‘with the worst instincts of humanity.’ Cognitive dissonance [the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs or attitudes, especially relating to behavioural decisions and attitude change] like that gives my inner cynic plenty to work with. But whether we feel a cynical pleasure in Stewart’s embarrassment, or find it excruciating and simply want to move on, we do well to put ourselves in his position and linger there a while. Or - better yet - remember that we have been there already.

Sometimes, when thinking about how we share our faith, I’ll ask people to think back to the last time they changed their mind about something, and how it felt. It is difficult to face the reality that we are in the wrong, and need to change. As unworkable, inconsistent and foolish as it is, cognitive dissonance is a lot easier on the ego. Christians must never forget that. God forbid we make coming to Christ any harder than it has to be, by crowing over the wrongness of unbelievers! It’s hard enough having to admit that you’re in the wrong before the Maker of heaven and earth, and need to repent. Let’s not give the impression people need to do the same before us, giving us the graceless satisfaction of saying, ‘I told you so.’

The Christian life begins with us in the wrong

Because, of course, the Christian life does not begin with us being in the right. Every Christian begins and (if we’re not deceiving ourselves, 1 John 1:8) continues with the acknowledgment that we are in the wrong before God. And every Christian discovers, the first time they repent and, miraculously, every subsequent moment of repentance, too - how God responds when we do that. There is no cynicism in Him, no unworthy gloating or crowing, no desire to shut us down and tell us, ‘Just be wrong.’

There is mercy and grace in our time of need. Jesus brings a rescue from our petty evasions and our attempts to save face, and gives us an invitation to a life less brittle, larger for having been loved, precious because paid for at such an extraordinary price. He isn’t out for our blood - He shed His, instead.