Three People

Three People (1,226)

August 2nd, 2011

I am three people. It is not that I am three segments within one human body. I am not a puzzle—certainly neither that complicated nor entertaining. I am distinctly three different individuals. And may I be so presumptuous as to say…so are you.

No, there isn’t a white dog, a black dog and a green dog living in me, barking at each other to gain ownership of the dog house. I am three separate people—each entity vying for authority at various interludes of my day. When I finally understood this, I realized that spiritual transformation of a lasting sort involved identifying my three tenants and recognizing their issues, while still demanding that they pay rent.

The first one is what I call “The Moment Me.” The Moment Me really seeks to gain predominance of the entire rented space. The Moment Me is a conglomeration of my upbringing, my genetics, my predilections and my prejudices. He is how I respond from the abundance of my heart through my mouth—often without ever consulting my spirit and brain. He is the spontaneous outburst that occurs every time I feel offended OR overjoyed. He deeply imitates the surroundings of my birth, the gestures of my parents and the actions and intentions of my culture. The Moment Me always reacts—and then later has reflections on the occasion.

Which leads to the second individual, which I call “The Midnight Me.” The Midnight Me is that person living within my walls of human flesh that has accumulated positive experiences, encounters with God, joyous creative explosions and real faith in humanity. The Midnight Me often comes at bedtime or even in my dreams, to stimulate in me the remembrance to my entire being that the better way of doing things actually nourishes all the aspects of my personality. The Midnight Me wants to repent. The Midnight Me yearns to change the outcome of the adventures of the previous day, initiated by the Moment Me. The Midnight Me wants me to be sorry so that I have the benefit of making things right and gaining friendships instead of gradually dissipating the number of my companions.

· The Midnight Me believes in God. The Moment Me acknowledges God but often feels that the Divine gets in the way.

· The Midnight Me believes that God has the answers. The Moment Me contends that God brings too many questions.

· The Midnight Me doesn’t need answers—just guidance. The Moment Me wants resolution and demands it now.

They are not good roommates. They create a stalemate because each one performs an obvious function and takes care of all the utilities, but does so at a distance from one another, with very little interaction. The Midnight Me feels it does practical service by rejecting erroneous parts of the upbringing, and memories of being cheated, to replace them with fresh concepts or forgiveness. The Midnight Me sees no reason for life if he isn’t evolving, for after all, to live in a world of evolution—where the survival of the fittest is in play—and to ignore that, thinking we can stay the same and still prosper, is not only ridiculous, but dangerous.

But I did say three people, remember? And the third person of my trio is “The Morning Me.” This is the “Me” that is born every day to newness of life, like a calf unable to stand on its wobbly legs, seeking nourishment and ushered into a new world of confusing sounds and swirling colors.

Yes, every morning I have the opportunity to heed the call of The Midnight Me and consider yesterday’s attitudes of The Moment Me, and choose to do better—pick up the phone, make an apology, send an email of gratitude, or just start the day with a prayer instead of a complaint.

But The Morning Me, freshly reborn, is very fragile, and susceptible to suggestion. The Moment Me is very strong, having had years of control and the force of genetics and nature behind it. So if The Midnight Me is not granted equality with The Moment Me—in other words, if the Midnight Me is viewed as a simpering annoyance, The Morning Me will hide in a corner and allow The Moment Me to once again take over.

Now, I’m not trying to confuse you with all these names and relationships. Being a writer, a bit of cleverness is the curse of the courier. More simply stated, The Moment Me is the conglomeration of my training and genetics. The Midnight Me is what I’ve learned about the beauty of nature and God. And The Morning Me is the love of God granting me an opportunity with each new dawning to make the blessings of the day fresh instead of stale.

To gain power in your life, you must at least give credence to The Midnight Me to be equal with The Moment Me. Then The Morning Me will have a chance to build muscle, bone and courage—to make the new day truly a new way. As long as we believe that we are the sum-total of our upbringing and genetics, we will close the door on the angels that visit us at night, to foretell us of better choices.

I am three people. Any success in my life has been due to acknowledging this—recognizing the weaknesses in my upbringing and genetics and understanding that God has His best chance of speaking to me when I am prostrate and given viability through resting and sleep. When the morning comes, I have another chance. I am a new Jonathan—if I want to be—or a new Jonathan, to be slaughtered on the altar of repetition.

What will your choice be? Do you believe, like the religionists, that we are all doomed to be innately sinful and therefore incessantly groveling for the mercy of God? Or are you like the humanist, who believes that we’re born who we are, with very little ability to change the circumstances of that initial appearance?

You must be born again.

Fortunately for us, it happens every morning. And if we listen to The Midnight Me, who does not come to condemn, but rather, to correct the misconceptions of The Moment Me, we have the chance to make ourselves better inhabitants of the house of God—and more precious to our neighbor.