As I wandered through the aisles at the supermarket this week, the piped music that’s designed to put me in a shopping mood was interrupted by a chirpy voice. “Good morning everyone! Welcome to Asda! Did you know that next Saturday, the brand new Playstation 3 gaming console will be available in the UK for the first time?”
The Monday afternoon pensioners and mums with toddlers that usually share my shopping experience looked didn’t like they knew about this earth-changing event. But we all had a feeling that we would soon know more.
“Yes, and to be the first to own one of these fantastic new game consoles - recommended retail price: £425 - we’re making it possible for you to pre-order one today!”
If this wasn’t enough to get me twitching with nervous excitement about the privilege of PS3 ownership, the next part of the sales patter was meant to turn up the pressure. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, book early to avoid disappointment!”
The idea of ‘avoiding disappointment’ is one of the tricks of the salesman’s trade. Disappointment is conjured up as a looming possibility, with all its associations of regret and sorrow. Disappointment - a dark and gloomy mood to be avoided at all costs, or at least avoided at the cost of a £25 down payment.
Marketing the avoidance of disappointment is big business. In a culture where instant satisfaction of every whim and want is promised, disappointment means failure. I see parents unable to resist the disappointed look on young children’s faces. When told that the burger and fries, the late bed-time, or the hoped-for toy isn’t going to come, children are skilled at sharing their disappointment. I can’t help thinking that those tearful, grumpy toddlers who never learn to cope with disappointment are destined to be tomorrow’s angry adults, who blame everyone else for the fact that life is disappointingly boring, unfulfilling, or tough.
Yet there’s a strange fact about disappointment. Disappointment often comes as an early chapter in the stories that finally lead to the most wonderful and exhilarating moments of our lives.
Before entering full-time Christian ministry, I worked in industry for fourteen years, mainly in product and project management. I did some thinking and research about the ways we could build on our successes. One of the surprising things that emerged was that the contracts in which everything went smoothly, without any hitch, weren’t quite as effective in leading to new business as those in which there had been significant problems. I noticed that when we let down a key customer, we actually gave ourselves an opportunity to prove our commitment and professionalism by retrieving the situation. Some of our most fruitful business relationships arose from projects in which we seriously disappointed a customer, then admitted our failure, and pulled out all the stops to deliver.
We know this in everyday experience. If we simply buy something, we may well be satisfied with the transaction. But if we are disappointed that a shop doesn’t quite have the thing we want, and the shopkeeper goes the extra mile to get it for us and to ensure we are completely satisfied, we often end up even more pleased than if we had simply taken the item from the shelf. So pleased, in fact, that we may well return or recommend the shop to others. Similarly, the disappointment of a faulty product can lead to us experiencing a surprising pleasure if our complaint is dealt with sympathetically and we are treated with understanding and commitment.
This may be because the ordinary, merely satisfactory experiences transacted at the till give us little opportunity for a proper engagement with people. But at the ‘customer service desk’, the extra-ordinariness of a disappointed customer provides the shop with an opportunity to treat us as real people, and the possibility of turning our disappointment into delight.
Perhaps we shouldn’t try so hard to avoid disappointment, if it’s the kind of disappointment that allows someone to draw close to us and put things right again.
Easter provides a fascinating opportunity to reflect on disappointment and delight. The gospels move toward the final moments of Jesus’ life, the culmination of all the hoped-for expectations of the Messiah’s mission. His friends and followers find themselves bitterly disappointed, disheartened and depressed. I think we rush too quickly from the stone cold tomb of Good Friday. We should linger instead, exploring the depth of this disappointment, and allowing it to connect with all the disappointments of our own lives.
One of the most remarkable accounts of the Easter experience is told in Luke 24.13 to 49. Two depressed disciples plod disappointedly away from Jerusalem, from the crucifixion of all their hopes. On the way a stranger draws near and allows them to express their grief. And later, as their companion shares broken bread, they discover that this stranger that came close and walked with them in their disappointment is actually the risen Jesus himself.
It may be tempting to avoid disappointment, or to console our disappointed children and friends with short-cuts to temporary happiness. But the Christian faith has adequate resources for properly dealing with disappointment. The transformation of grief to joy, from sorrow to hope, can only truly come when we allow God to draw near in the disappointing parts of our own journeys. Then, when we aren’t dodging the truth, we may find our hearts burn within us, and find our disappointment turn to delight. Happy Easter!
How good can this be? Breakfast before church in the Barnabas Centre. The delicious smell of bacon, hot coffee, a gentle start to the best day of the week.
