Lessons from Spackle

It occurred to me today that I have achieved expertise at mudding a wall with spackle. I know this because it fell to me to put the second coat of spackle on. The first coat is usually done with a quick-drying compound that must be mixed many times and immediately applied to the cracks and joints between pieces of drywall. I also did this, preparing the room for a second coat. The first coat is literally filling in the cracks, getting the major joints and separations covered, so that the second coat, and third if necessary, will create a smooth, seamless transition from one drywall board to another. Then it will be time to paint.

Now, I did a decent job at the first coat. There were a lot of rough edges and iffy mud jobs, but again, the goal isn’t purity, it’s practicality. The subsequent coats require the more seasoned hand, feathering the spackle out to where it fades into nothing, a seamless transition to the drywall. And I put up the slower drying spackle that constitutes the finished coats. My uncle, who is “supervising” this home improvement project, stood in general approval of the progress of the room, but he failed to compliment me for (to my mind) the fine execution of the second coat. Don’t misunderstand; ever since I did a great deal of spackling for the upstairs rooms in which I now abide, I have been teasingly referred to as an “expert” in mudding walls. That is to say, I know the techniques well enough to need no instruction or oversight to put up the initial and subsequent coats. I’ve done a lot of first coats, and been plied with compliments by my uncle who is quick to praise and bolster my self-esteem in matters handyman.

So the lack of his praise in this case struck me as an even higher praise than the explicit acknowledgment usually rendered. In essence, my expertise in spackling has become so accepted that it is now expected, and hence unremarkable. When you are truly proficient at something, others tend to notice it less. Familiarity may not breed contempt, but it certainly leads towards complacency. This we find even if the familiarity is with excellence.

Allow me to illustrate this further with my favorite activity, golf. (Note: it is not only possible, but distinctly likely, that I am wildly overrating my abilities in spackling. Which, by the way, is a delightfully absurd statement in and of itself. Be aware that my uncle’s indifference might not have sprung from familiarity with excellence, but plain oversight, and the lengthy discourse you just suffered through was nothing more than me stroking my ego.)

As my elder sister could tell you from taking Theory of Coaching Basketball, there are four accepted stages of progression in mastering a skill: Unconscious Incompetent (where the novice is doing the motion required by the sport or activity wrong and doesn’t know it); Conscious Incompetent (where the novice realizes his/her inadequacies and struggles to correct them); Conscious Competent (where the practitioner begins to perform the motion correctly through diligent practice and conscious effort); and finally Unconscious Competent (also known as “being in the zone,” where the practitioner is performing the activity correctly without thinking about the motion and theory; highly desired by athletes professional and amateur alike). This usually applies to the athlete shooting a basketball, throwing a baseball, or swinging a golf club. The progression of knowledge and mastery is only to be gained by repetition and mental focus. And as I have discovered to my chagrin of late, even the physical action can be superseded by the mental element. It is of paramount importance that the golfer maintains a proper mental attitude, attempting to focus lightly on the golf swing during a round, allowing the practice to flow freely.

How does this relate? Well, if the golfer is dedicated (read: obsessed) enough to practice, study, and be deliberate in building his swing, then the results should produce an improved swing. Where once the irons sprayed all over the place, or the driver produced a banana slice shot, the wild vacillations and inconsistencies should diminish to the point where the golfer is hitting a consistent fade of ten yards every tee shot, or knows that his nine-iron will travel 145 yards every time. And less and less will the golfer focus on the swing mechanics of the driver or nine-iron, turning his attention increasingly to aiming the ball and controlling the distance properly. The swing can become unconsciously competent.

And here we finally see the correlation to my spackling expertise. Because if someone is familiar enough with the golfer’s game, they will no longer exclaim in the precise judgment and control of the drive, or the precision of the nine iron shot, because they expect nothing less. They have seen the golfer execute the shot enough times that the result is no longer surprising; indeed, the surprise comes only when the golfer fails to execute the proper shot. My uncle still remarks on my “gorgeous” driver shots, but only as a response to his inability to hit consistent drives. He witnessed my recent woes and repeatedly expressed shock and amazement at the futility of my shotmaking, so used was he to a higher caliber of play from me.
So take it from me that if you’re doing something exceedingly well and no one seems to notice or applaud, it probably springs from the fact that they expect excellence from you and we never marvel at the fulfillment of our expectations, only at their thwarting. Which is more satisfying? Is it better to hear the praise or to understand that the lack of praise denotes a respect and faith in one’s ability and proficiency? That is too great a question for me to answer for anyone other than myself. And here we delve into the murky waters of psychology and the machinations of people’s minds.

I must confess that for myself, I luxuriate in the praises of men, which should tell you something about me. The man who is truly confident in himself needs no other validation or confirmation.

One final point. Is there any application from this discussion concerning our life with God? I have often marveled at the parallels between life and golf, and the analogies of golf to the Christian walk are no less striking. The main lesson or moral that might apply here takes a slight twist on the notion of the unconscious competency that is the highest level of proficiency. For the progression of faith-walking is similar to the mastery of a skill. We begin in blissful ignorance, unaware of our need for salvation and deliverance from sin. The carnal mind is not subject to the laws of God, neither indeed can be, for he is hostile towards God. Once the good news has been revealed to us, once the Spirit begins to work on our hearts, we become conscious of our need, our depravity, and ultimately become saved. The line between conscious incompetent and competent need not be salvation, for even after we are saved we are still learning to know the will and mind of God, and we still make horrendous mistakes and grieve Him. In fact, it sometimes seems to me that most Christians never actually progress from the second to the third phase; I myself often feel like I am hopelessly incompetent in living the Christian life and obeying God’s mandates.

And here we must differentiate between worldly endeavors and the ordinances of God. For we do not progress in closer fellowship with Jesus by dint of our efforts, our study, our practice of rituals, even rituals like reading the Bible or attending church. If you doubt this, you need only read of the Pharisees of Jesus’ and his disciples’ day, whose job it was to be preachers and teachers and students of the Scriptures, yet who could look on the physical face of God and shout for his execution. The efforts of man do not avail in the context of God. This is what Paul meant when he chastised the Galatians in chapter 3 of his epistle, reasoning with (and railing a little at) those believers who were trying to continue in the life of Christ in a completely different manner than that which led to their salvation. We are not saved by our own efforts, but through God’s provision; as we have been saved, so should we walk, relying not on ourselves to fulfill the requirements of Jesus, but again allowing God to have His way in us, to provide for our life even as He provided for our salvation.

And this is the difference between the stages, because we never become consciously competent in walking with God. We never become proficient in living the Christian life through our own verve and mastery. We become competent in living the Christian life to the extent that we focus our attention and will towards God, away from ourselves. So we must delete the Conscious Competent phase and skip to the Unconscious Competent phase, in which we are not oblivious to God, but rather we are oblivious to ourselves, our efforts to please Him and live for Him. He wants to live for us, not the reverse; to live through us, to accomplish His will His way, and use us as His hands and feet. The hands don’t decide what to do; they obey the head.
In fact, true Christ-likeness involves the recognition in us of our complete and utter inadequacy to live the Christian life. We don’t ever make it past the Incompetent stage! Our competency comes from surrender of our lives to God. This is the good news of living the Christian life: the pressure’s off! You don’t have to sweat it! Just let go and let God, to use an old cliché.

So who then gets the praise, the glory? Well, if we’re unequal to the task and God’s the one doing the work, bringing souls to Him, performing miracles, then who should get the glory? And this is the crux of the matter, because as long as we delude ourselves that we can live for God, do His work our way, be Consciously Competent for Him, then we can claim credit for the successes and bask in the glory. If we relinquish our foolish dreams of adequacy for God, He receives all the glory. And despite the countless hymns and songs and sermons the Church enjoys every Sunday that claim to espouse this attitude, it is all too rare nowadays to see in everyday Christian behavior.

So you must choose in your Christian walk: would you rather go it alone, take up the yoke and burden of evangelism and purity and observance of God’s perfection, and so claim the glory (what little there will be) for yourself? Or will you allow God to be your competency, to live and work through you, and so surrender both your life and the glory to Him?