Note: A friend sent me a message after my last post on humility. She said that she struggled more with a lack of self-confidence than she ever did with humility. In some ways, it seems like two sides of the same coin of self-reliance. I thought I owed it to her to look deeper into that nexus.
June 2000
Reception Day (R-Day) into Beast Barracks for West Point's Class of 1999. A matter of hours ago, we were civilians. Then the loud speaker echoed these words through the tense gymnasium, "You have one minute to say goodbye to your parents and report to the cadets at the top of the bleachers." From there, it was a blur of yelling, head shaving, and the issuing of uniforms, canteens, soap, etc.
Eventually, I stood in a line of "new cadet candidates" on a painted yellow line on the black asphalt of Central Area. Granite buildings surrounded us. Locking me and my classmates into the Long Gray Line of cadets that stretched back to 1802. The sun baked down on us through the muggy air of the Hudson Valley. Excitement mixed with terror. As the day went on, somewhere around a dozen of my potential classmates cracked and quit.
I looked out upon the scene through my thick Army-issued glasses. My head was shaved and covered with issued sunscreen. My classmates and I all wore gray t-shirts, black shorts, black socks, and black leather shoes. The green duffel bag on my back held all of my belongings. Sweat seeped through my clothes.
The line inched forward toward the "Cadet in the Red Sash" to report in to our new cadet company. I'd heard of this storied tradition. I tried to peer over the new cadet candidate's shoulder in front of me. All I could see was towering man barking out orders to the new cadet candidate at the front of the line.
I was scared, but I was also cocky. I'd been an All-State Football player in high school and had won a state championship. I held school wrestling records for the most pins in a season and the most pins over a career. My grades had been honor roll or better for the last four years. These past accomplishments straightened my spine and reminded me that if anyone was equipped to master this scenario it was me. I'd been through the process of the wheat separating from the chaff before and I knew that was only a matter of time before I demonstrated my worth.
That self-confidence began to run low as I approached the front of the line. The, the new cadet candidate in front of me was getting grilled by the Cadet in the Red Sash. Everything he said and did was wrong. He saluted wrong, reported wrong, and even stepped up to the line wrong. My own nerves were rattling, but I knew that I'd get it right. Maybe not the first time, but defnitely the second.
Then the Cadet in the Red Sash was yelling at me. He had to have been six inches taller than me with a gleaming white hat, white shirt with ribbons, gray cotton trousers, and a red sash around his waist. "New Cadet Candidate, step up to my line, salute, and report into your company! Do not step on, my line, or over my line."
"Yes, sir!" I said and snapped off a quick two steps. I was beginning my salute when his voice boomed out.
"New Cadet Candidate, I said step up to my line! Look at your feet!"
I looked down. One of my black leather shoes was a half an inch on the line. The other one was a half inch behind it.
"Go back and start over New Cadet Candidate."
I did. I looked down to make sure that my feet landed perfectly.
"Did I say you could look down New Cadet Candidate?"
"N-n-no, sir."
"Go back and start over!"
I stepped wrongly up to the line two more times, each time by what seemed like less than an eighth of an inch. When I finally made it, I forgot how I was supposed to report. I can't remember whether it was three, four, or even five more times that I tried and failed.
Eventually, I either got close enough or the Cadet in the Red Sash just decided it was time to keep the line moving.
I turned on a heel and darted into barracks for the first time. My ego was broken and self-confidence dashed, but it didn't matter. I was heading onto the next task because it was my duty. I was supposed to follow orders even if I didn't have the means to get them right.
It wouldn't take three more minutes before I failed at another "simple" task.
May 2011
Out of all of the lessons that I learned in my experiences at West Point, the Cadet in the Red Sash's lesson to continue on in spite of personal failure was the most powerful. Through Beast Barracks and into Plebe year, I failed everyday at simple tasks such as memorizing the newspaper, properly calling out the minutes and uniform before meals, addressing senior cadets by the proper organizational greeting, and even cutting cake at a proper angle.
Those failures and the lessons to continue on despite of them were good practice for the years to come when I would fail on varying in importance from landscaping to marriage. Sometimes, I even failed to save lives. The sting of some of the failures didn't last for an hour others will haunt me forever.
Somewhere along the line the question of whether I was self-confident enough to complete a task fell by the wayside. The operative question became was I taking the action or following the path that I believed the Divine had laid out before me. If I was, then there was no other option but to do my best to complete whatever task was in front of me - regardless of my skill or capacity. If not, then it was time to alter my path.
The determination of whether we are on the proper path or taking the right action is a continuing wrestling match between the ego, faith, and reason. As long as we are breathing, we will struggle with that fundamental analysis.
In contrast, the question at the root of self-confidence is whether we have the capacity to complete the task in front of us. That question is just a distraction. If we trust in the Divine to put us on the proper path, the question of whether we can complete the tasks on that path is irrelevant.
We'll attempt them because we're supposed to. If we fail, we've got to believe either that a higher power is judging off of a different scorecard than the one we have in front of us or that we're being prepared for a more critical future trial.
Proverbs sums it up better than I ever could. "Trust in the Lord with all you hear, on your own intelligence rely not; in all your ways be mindful of him and he will make straight your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6.
It's a challenging trail but thankfully your success doesn't depend on whether you think you have what it takes to succeed.
If you're still terrified that you're not up to a task, it's hard to been a "Holy Spirit work through me" or "Holy Spirit speak through me mantra." I wish I would have had that in my toolkit when I had to report to the Cadet in the Red Sash.
June 2000
Reception Day (R-Day) into Beast Barracks for West Point's Class of 1999. A matter of hours ago, we were civilians. Then the loud speaker echoed these words through the tense gymnasium, "You have one minute to say goodbye to your parents and report to the cadets at the top of the bleachers." From there, it was a blur of yelling, head shaving, and the issuing of uniforms, canteens, soap, etc.
Eventually, I stood in a line of "new cadet candidates" on a painted yellow line on the black asphalt of Central Area. Granite buildings surrounded us. Locking me and my classmates into the Long Gray Line of cadets that stretched back to 1802. The sun baked down on us through the muggy air of the Hudson Valley. Excitement mixed with terror. As the day went on, somewhere around a dozen of my potential classmates cracked and quit.
I looked out upon the scene through my thick Army-issued glasses. My head was shaved and covered with issued sunscreen. My classmates and I all wore gray t-shirts, black shorts, black socks, and black leather shoes. The green duffel bag on my back held all of my belongings. Sweat seeped through my clothes.
The line inched forward toward the "Cadet in the Red Sash" to report in to our new cadet company. I'd heard of this storied tradition. I tried to peer over the new cadet candidate's shoulder in front of me. All I could see was towering man barking out orders to the new cadet candidate at the front of the line.
I was scared, but I was also cocky. I'd been an All-State Football player in high school and had won a state championship. I held school wrestling records for the most pins in a season and the most pins over a career. My grades had been honor roll or better for the last four years. These past accomplishments straightened my spine and reminded me that if anyone was equipped to master this scenario it was me. I'd been through the process of the wheat separating from the chaff before and I knew that was only a matter of time before I demonstrated my worth.
That self-confidence began to run low as I approached the front of the line. The, the new cadet candidate in front of me was getting grilled by the Cadet in the Red Sash. Everything he said and did was wrong. He saluted wrong, reported wrong, and even stepped up to the line wrong. My own nerves were rattling, but I knew that I'd get it right. Maybe not the first time, but defnitely the second.
Then the Cadet in the Red Sash was yelling at me. He had to have been six inches taller than me with a gleaming white hat, white shirt with ribbons, gray cotton trousers, and a red sash around his waist. "New Cadet Candidate, step up to my line, salute, and report into your company! Do not step on, my line, or over my line."
"Yes, sir!" I said and snapped off a quick two steps. I was beginning my salute when his voice boomed out.
"New Cadet Candidate, I said step up to my line! Look at your feet!"
I looked down. One of my black leather shoes was a half an inch on the line. The other one was a half inch behind it.
"Go back and start over New Cadet Candidate."
I did. I looked down to make sure that my feet landed perfectly.
"Did I say you could look down New Cadet Candidate?"
"N-n-no, sir."
"Go back and start over!"
I stepped wrongly up to the line two more times, each time by what seemed like less than an eighth of an inch. When I finally made it, I forgot how I was supposed to report. I can't remember whether it was three, four, or even five more times that I tried and failed.
Eventually, I either got close enough or the Cadet in the Red Sash just decided it was time to keep the line moving.
I turned on a heel and darted into barracks for the first time. My ego was broken and self-confidence dashed, but it didn't matter. I was heading onto the next task because it was my duty. I was supposed to follow orders even if I didn't have the means to get them right.
It wouldn't take three more minutes before I failed at another "simple" task.
May 2011
Out of all of the lessons that I learned in my experiences at West Point, the Cadet in the Red Sash's lesson to continue on in spite of personal failure was the most powerful. Through Beast Barracks and into Plebe year, I failed everyday at simple tasks such as memorizing the newspaper, properly calling out the minutes and uniform before meals, addressing senior cadets by the proper organizational greeting, and even cutting cake at a proper angle.
Those failures and the lessons to continue on despite of them were good practice for the years to come when I would fail on varying in importance from landscaping to marriage. Sometimes, I even failed to save lives. The sting of some of the failures didn't last for an hour others will haunt me forever.
Somewhere along the line the question of whether I was self-confident enough to complete a task fell by the wayside. The operative question became was I taking the action or following the path that I believed the Divine had laid out before me. If I was, then there was no other option but to do my best to complete whatever task was in front of me - regardless of my skill or capacity. If not, then it was time to alter my path.
The determination of whether we are on the proper path or taking the right action is a continuing wrestling match between the ego, faith, and reason. As long as we are breathing, we will struggle with that fundamental analysis.
In contrast, the question at the root of self-confidence is whether we have the capacity to complete the task in front of us. That question is just a distraction. If we trust in the Divine to put us on the proper path, the question of whether we can complete the tasks on that path is irrelevant.
We'll attempt them because we're supposed to. If we fail, we've got to believe either that a higher power is judging off of a different scorecard than the one we have in front of us or that we're being prepared for a more critical future trial.
Proverbs sums it up better than I ever could. "Trust in the Lord with all you hear, on your own intelligence rely not; in all your ways be mindful of him and he will make straight your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6.
It's a challenging trail but thankfully your success doesn't depend on whether you think you have what it takes to succeed.
If you're still terrified that you're not up to a task, it's hard to been a "Holy Spirit work through me" or "Holy Spirit speak through me mantra." I wish I would have had that in my toolkit when I had to report to the Cadet in the Red Sash.
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