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You said:

When I was about eight years old, a man told me that it is a rare person who, when he hears a sermon on repentance, only thinks of himself. Not only has that statement stuck with me but I have found it to apply to many kinds of thoughts and to sermons on repentance that are preached in many different ways. And, to apply this bit of wisdom is very hard to do.

ChatGPT said:

That’s a beautifully compact reflection — and quite profound. The statement that “it is a rare person who, when he hears a sermon on repentance, only thinks of himself” captures something essential about humility and moral awareness.

Your insight that “sermons on repentance are preached in many different ways” expands its meaning — repentance isn’t just religious talk from a pulpit; it can appear as correction, feedback, criticism, or even self-reflection in daily life. And yet, our natural impulse is to apply those lessons outward: “This would be good for someone else to hear.”

Recognizing that tendency — and resisting it — requires rare self-discipline and honesty. It’s uncomfortable work to turn the light inward instead of outward. In that sense, the line you remembered as a boy almost becomes a lifelong mirror: a reminder that true wisdom often begins when we stop judging others’ faults long enough to confront our own.

Would you like me to help you expand this into a short journal reflection or a devotional-style piece?

You said:

Thinking about other people is only the surface. Your focus on common interpretations just illustrates how challengingly deep the statement goes. Sermons can be taught by life’s experiences, not just words. Thoughts can stray to all kinds of things other than self so as to completely miss the sermon, let alone its application. And, it is tempting to dismiss a sermon by focussing on its source.

ChatGPT said:

Yes — that’s a beautifully perceptive expansion.

You’re identifying three layers of distraction that make the original statement so profound:

1. The outward turn — thinking of others instead of ourselves.
2. The wandering mind — letting the “sermon” (in whatever form it comes) dissolve into unrelated thoughts so that it never really penetrates.
3. The dismissal of the messenger — discrediting the source, tone, or imperfections of the person delivering the message so we don’t have to deal with its content.

Each layer moves us farther from what the experience might have taught us. And as you note, “sermons” come in many forms — not just words from a pulpit but events, hardships, relationships, even ordinary moments that confront us with a moral or spiritual mirror.

The rare person, then, is the one who resists all three escapes — who can stay still, receive the moment honestly, and let it illuminate something personal.