Every one of us—all we like sheep—have habits we can’t control, past deeds we can’t undo, flaws we can’t correct. This is the cast of characters God has to work with. In the way that glass is predisposed to shatter and nitroglycerin is predisposed to explode, we are predisposed to do wrong when conditions are right. That predisposition is what theologians call “depravity.” We lie and sacrifice integrity for the sake of a few dollars (“I don’t understand, Officer—my speedometer must be broken”). We gossip for the sake of a few moments’ feeling of superiority. We try to create false impressions of productivity at work to advance more rapidly. (A new software package allows you to surf the net at work, then with one click switch to a fake screen that makes it look as if you’re working on a project; it’s called “boss screen.”) We seek to intimidate employees or children to gain control, or simply to enjoy the feeling of power.
Everybody’s weird. This is such a fundamental insight, you may want to close the book for a moment and share this thought with the person closest to you. Or the person it most reminds you of. Or perhaps these are the same person.
Because we know in our hearts that this is not the way we’re supposed to be, we try to hide our weirdness. Every one of us pretends to be healthier and kinder than we really are; we all engage in what might be called “depravity management.”
Every once in a while somebody’s “as-is” tag becomes high profile. A Pulitzer Prize-winning historian is guilty of plagiarism; a politician’s career explodes in sexual scandal; a powerful CEO resigns in disgrace over illegal document shredding. What’s surprising is not that such things happen; it’s that the general public response is, “Can you believe it? And they seemed so normal.” As if you and I, of course, would be incapable of such behavior.
Ortberg, J. (2009). Everybody’s normal till you get to know them. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.