Logs, Horns, and the Holy Spirit: A Visual You Can’t Unsee

Logs, Horns, and the Holy Spirit:
A Visual You Can’t Unsee

Now that’s a BIG pulpit—😂

(7 min read)

Note from the road: This week, we guided a 3-day Enneagram Harmony Retreat for 60 Episcopalian clergy. On the third day, Clare was invited to preach (behind the pulpit above) at the closing Eucharist service. While the message was written for them, we believe it’s truly for all of us. We’ve removed the more personal Episcopal Clergy pieces and want to share it with you here. (NOTE: Time is running out – You can join us on Enneagram retreat or Professional Certification 👉 [Click here for more info.)

Logs, Horns, and the Holy Spirit: A Visual You Can’t Unsee

We’ve heard these words from Jesus before—maybe too often.
So often, in fact, that they risk becoming religious background noise:

“Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own?”

Let’s be honest—it’s a zinger.
Jesus is preaching with precision, with poetry, and yes, with a little Pentecostal sarcasm.

Maybe this image reminds you of that cartoon (we utilize in ©iEnneagram Harmony Training): A rhino is painting landscapes and portraits—yet every canvas has one thing in common. Right in the middle? That giant horn on his own nose.

The caption reads:
“We don’t see things as they are—we see them as we are.”

Preach, rhino! Preach!

I was raised Catholic. My sweetheart Scott was, too—but I used to call him “a public,” since he went to public school. (You know how we Catholics talk about other people’s specks…)

At 18, we made a conscious decision to follow in the way of Jesus—and it was the Catholic Charismatic Renewal that cracked open our eyes. Guitar Mass, lifting hands, praying in tongues, banners, tambourines… the whole heavenly zoo.

And somehow, in the midst of that chaos? We emerged with an otherworldly clarity.

Those dear enthusiasts weren’t perfect, but they were sincere. They tried to help us remove the specks from our eyes—with tears, anointing oil, prophecy… and maybe a little too much end-time fear-mongering.

From there, we attended an Assemblies of God Bible college—where we found deep joy and learned to spot everyone else’s specks with exegesis and spiritual superiority.

Since then, we’ve happily studied and fellowshipped with Non-Denoms, Baptists, Quakers, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Salvationists, Jesuits, Franciscans, Dominicans, Evangelicals, Exvangelicals—even agnostics (yes, that counts as a faith tradition). You name it—all multi-speck-spotting loggers (including us) in need of grace!

And this week? We had a beautiful dip into Episcopalianland—leading a retreat for 60 clergy and joining their meetings, where we witnessed a deep and steady commitment to “extending God’s kingdom, reconciling the world to Christ, and making disciples of all nations.”

We were struck by their love. By their passion for Christ and for people.

And once again—loggers were in the room.
Together, our view expanded. Our hearts softened.
And the Spirit gently offered to clear our vision… one log at a time.

So yes, we’re a full-blown ecumenical potpourri.

In our justice work with not-for-profit agencies, we’ve collaborated with Democrats, Republicans, and everyone who resists those boxes. And at some point? Every single one of them wanted to talk about someone else’s speck. (But that’s a much bigger story—for another day.)

The question Jesus keeps posing, from the full weight of the text, is this:

What is the spiritual practice that helps me find my own horn, speck, or log?

Because this isn’t just a witty metaphor for self-awareness.
It’s an invitation to radical, Spirit-led clarity and compassion.The Latin word Compassio. To suffer with one another.

And Jesus insists on a fresh invitation with this morning’s lectionary passage:
Start with yourself.
Start with your own seeing.

Generous invitations to see:

Healing Begins with Honesty

Jesus isn’t saying, “Ignore truth or injustice.”

He’s saying: Don’t weaponize your brand of clarity.

Transformation doesn’t begin with diagnosing them—it begins with healing me.

Scott says, we can be wounded healers or wounded wounders.
And the truth is?
We’ve all failed.
Full stop.

So maybe we stop asking:

“What’s wrong with them?”and start asking: “What happened to them? And what happened to me that I react to them the way I do?”

That question opens the door to compassion—for others and for ourselves. As Father Rohr says,

“If we do not transform our wounds… we will transmit them.”

Or let me say it this way, “Untransformed passion, is just recycled trauma — dressed up in a data, prooftext or clerical stole.”

Get Out of Your Bubble
We’ve got theological bubbles. Denominational silos. Organizational and political echo chambers.
We are drowning in feedback loops of our own opinions.

This is why we LOVE facilitating the ©iEnneagram Harmony Model and the practices that help-
Get out of your personality type reactivity.
Get into the flow of the Spirit with three centered intel.

AND, Jesus says you can’t remove the log on your own.

You need help. You need the Holy Spirit.

And I don’t mean just the Holy Spirit as a theological idea.

This week, I spoke with several self-identified Pentecostal and Charismatic Episcopalian clergy. Across our differences, we shared a longing—one I believe lives in every corner of the Church:

A longing for the Spirit—
who hovered over the waters,
descended like a dove,
erupted in tongues of fire,
and spoke so each could hear in their own language—
and who still comes
to heal us:
mind, heart, and body.

That Spirit has to move in us again.
The best knowledge, effort, or activism isn’t enough—unless the Spirit is breathing through them.

And maybe, just maybe, through the person whose perspective makes your blood pressure spike.

Gifts for the Sake of Others

Jesus says:
“…then you will see clearly to help your neighbor with their speck.” v. 42

So yes—there is a time to speak, to act, to correct.
But this isn’t about having the right position—
It’s about having the right posture.

A posture of humility.
A posture of mercy.
A posture open to the fresh wind of the Spirit.

A posture of openness to a fresh wind of the Spirit.
We come to the boardroom, pulpit, and the table—not as experts—but as wounded healers.
Carriers of mercy.
Bearers of stories.
Conduits for grace.

The Spirit does not rest on arrogance.
She flows through the humble. Through the broken. Through the brave.

The Compassionate Foundation
”…That one is like a person building a house who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when a flood arose, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built” v. 48

Jesus ends this section with a warning:
We can hear His words and still build on sand.

And friends, isn’t that our temptation?
To identify as advocates for good and remain in our bias?
To preach transformation without seeking it personally?
To lead others while staying blind to the broken places in ourselves?

But the foundation Jesus calls us to is not success, not cleverness, not doctrinal purity—
It’s compassion.

Not pity. Not saviorism.
True compassion: suffering with, seeing clearly, serving faithfully.

So let me leave you with a few questions:

Where are you blind?
What log or horn still distorts your view?
When was the last time you encountered the Holy Spirit—“as in the day of Pentecost”—in a way that trumped your limited thoughts, feelings, and instincts?
Where is the Spirit trying to breathe into your words, your worship, your wounds?

Because the Spirit doesn’t just want to hover over your life and ministry.
She longs to move through it.

Come, Holy Spirit.
Not just as a doctrine—but as a dynamo.
The dunamis power of the Holy Spirit!
Fill us with the gifts we need—for the healing of my blindness, and the blindness of your world.

Come, Holy Spirit.
Amen.

With faith, hope, and especially love,

Clare and Scott