There is an inherent challenge in writing hundreds of essays about spirituality: the moment you slip into unspiritual thinking, it feels like hypocrisy. And yet, as A Course in Miracles (ACIM) reminds us, every error is just another classroom moment, a lesson in forgiveness and correction. The benefit of these moments isn’t in pretending they didn’t happen but in allowing them to teach us what is real.
The word that comes to mind is hypocrisy—saying one thing but doing another. We’ve all done it. We’ve all preached peace while muttering curses under our breath. And isn’t it the ego’s favorite game to point out such contradictions in others? If a political party that claimed to be the “party of law and order” were to run and elect a convicted felon as president, we’d call that hypocrisy. (Thank God that would never happen in America!)
But let me set that dig aside for a moment, because the lesson here isn’t about politics. It’s about me. It’s about all of us. When I look with uncompromising honesty, I find times, words, and actions that would convict me in a heartbeat. And that’s where ACIM steps in to remind me, “Do you prefer to be right or to be happy?” (T-29.VII.1:9).
Here’s my confession.
A few weeks ago, I nearly collapsed in a doctor’s office. An ambulance was called to rush me to the hospital—ironically, located right next door. In the process, the ambulance parked in such a way that it blocked a woman from leaving the lot. As I was being rolled on a stretcher toward the ambulance, this lady started complaining profusely about the inconvenience.
Now, my most spiritual response—the one I hope I would give today—would have been to smile and ask for forgiveness for the delay, recognizing that “I am never upset for the reason I think” (W-pI.5.1:1). But did I do that?
Oh no.
I suggested, rather directly, that the lady “get her head out of her ass!”
Yes, really. Not exactly what the Holy Spirit would have whispered to me.
The ambulance crew nearly burst into laughter, and I think a part of them wished they had said it themselves. But as A Course in Miracles points out, “Every attack is a call for love” (T-12.I.8:1). My retort felt good for a second but accomplished nothing. It wasn’t loving. It wasn’t healing. It was just my ego having its moment of triumph.
Looking back, I see it was a perfect JAFO—a Just Another Forgiveness Opportunity—that I let slip through my fingers. But here’s the beauty: ACIM gently reminds us, “You are free to choose again” (T-31.VIII.1:6). Would I make a different choice today? I hope so. Can I guarantee it? No.
But with “a little willingness,” I can pause, breathe, and invite the Holy Spirit to speak through me. I can remember that “The Holy Spirit will undo all of the consequences of my wrong decision if I let Him” (T-5.VII.6:10).
This incident, like so many others, proves we are still blinded by what ACIM calls “the tiny, mad idea” (T-27.VIII.6:2)—the thought that we are separate, vulnerable bodies. We forget, again and again. And that’s okay. The Holy Spirit never judges us for stumbling; He only sees another opportunity for healing.
The real question is: Can we forgive ourselves?
I eventually did. And perhaps that’s the greatest spiritual practice of all—realizing that even in our moments of ego-driven failure, we are still the beloved Son of God, unchanged and unchangeable.
robert@dinojamesbooks.com