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I Told You So

December 19, 2005

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Dear Friends

Don’t you hate to hear “I told you so?” Sometimes when you are on the other side, though, it is almost too irresistible not to say it. Perhaps part of it stems from our indignation at not being listened to or the fact that we could connect the dots with such certainty we look down on those who could not see things quite as clearly.

The fact is that sometimes we can see what is going to happen with a fair amount of certainty, can’t we? If someone refuses to brush their teeth and eats a lot of candy, we can say with probability on our side that this person is going to get more than their share of cavities. When they come down with that toothache, something in us burns to say “I told you so.” Although not likely to admit it, we may even relish a little bit the pain that they are enduring. “Maybe you’ll listen to me next time,” we say to ourselves. If we have told them over and over that this was going to happen and it is ignored, we may feel that they have received their “just desserts.”

Perhaps spiritual things can be like that too. We preach and preach with little or no results and when Christ does come, we may want to say “I told you so” as the nations stagger at the prospect of having rejected the son of God. Perhaps we counsel a brother or sister to turn from their sin and they refuse. When they reap the fruits of their labor – a broken marriage, open shame, a debilitating disease –we may again be tempted toward smugness and a hearty “I told you so.”

When the so-called prodigal son came home, his father could have told him “I told you so.” He had good cause to do so. The son had made a series of terrible decisions. The son had coveted his father’s possessions. The son left God’s people for a life of sin. Now, this pitiful excuse for a son returned home destitute having paid dearly for his impertinence.

The father chooses not to say “I told you so.” Instead, seeing the son returning (even though he was still a good ways off), the father “saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20) The father didn’t want revenge. The father didn’t want to be justified that he was right. The father wanted his son back. He didn’t make him grovel. He embraced him. He ran to him and put on his son “the best robe” and “a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.” He didn’t measure his response toward his fallen son, his response was overwhelming.

There are many lessons that come from this parable. First, consequences for our actions are often God’s way of telling us to “go home.” God sent a famine to help this boy see the light. It was a good thing in the long run as far as the son was concerned. Perhaps sometimes we need to let people suffer the consequences for their sins so that they can want to go home. This doesn’t mean we force the consequences or even rejoice in them. We let God’s will and their decisions bring about a desire to return home while we anxiously yearn for their return.

Second, “I told you so” is never a good approach unless we want to hear that at the Judgment. “But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.” (Mark 11:26) Surely if any ever has the right to say “I told you so,” it is Christ for he has told us how to live a Godly life. Yet, we all fall short. Instead, we should mimic the father and rush to forgive and embrace the penitent and so hope to be treated at the return of Christ.

Finally, if we ever do find ourselves saying “I told you so”, perhaps it should be in this context. “My beloved friend, I told you that I would help you. I told you I would forgive you. I told you that I would always be there for you and love you. You didn’t believe me, but now you see that all I said was true. I told you so.”

Have a great week!