Like a Flame Thrower

I watched a movie about the Marines on a Pacific Island in World War II on Monday night. In the film, a platoon attacked a bunker with rifles, grenades, and a flame thrower. The flame thrower was particularly dramatic; the Marine gripped the nozzle with both hands and pulled the trigger. With a loud whooshing sound the flames arced forward. He swept the nozzle back and forth; the flames were horrific.

The oily thick smoke cleared, leaving a charred and devastated landscape. Nothing survived; the land in front of the Marine was dead.

The next night, Tuesday, I went to my regular AA meeting. A fellow shared, “I used blame to attack everything in front of me. I had a built-in blame-thrower.”

I thought of the movie and the marine with his flame thrower, his instrument of destruction. And I thought of my own experience with blame and thought, ‘wow, this guy hit the mark.’

When cornered by life, I would fight back, and my favourite instrument was my blame-thrower. With a tank of resentments on my back and gripping the nozzle with both hands, I would press the trigger, and with a whoosh, the blame would spray out and burn everything in its path.

And when the smoke cleared, the landscape of relationships in front of me would be charred and ruined.

We have blame throwers and use them with enthusiasm.