"Owning Our Mess-Ups"--September 30, 2019

"Owning our Mess-Ups"--September 30, 2019

"If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us." [1 John 1:8-10]

Sometimes I think the three hardest words to pronounce in the English language are: "I. Was. Wrong."

And I say that as someone who has a hard time saying them myself, as well as having listened to a lot of non-apologies in my life, too.  We are all well-versed in ways of avoiding having to say, "I was wrong."  There is the classic passive-voice sleight of hand, "Mistakes were made," which conveniently deletes anyone having to own up to being the maker of the mistakes.  There are excuses upon excuses that get thrown out in an attempt to avoid having to take responsibility for one's actions.  There is the apology that doesn't accept ownership, as in, "I'm sorry if YOU took what I said the wrong way," or "I'm sorry that this thing I did upset you, but I'm not going to stop doing the thing that upset you, so tough noogies."  And there is the classic reaction of digging one's heels in and insisting that they did no wrong in the first place and therefore have no need to change, correct, restart, or repent. All of these are strategies to avoid doing the truly courageous thing of admitting where we messed up, owning it, accepting responsibility, and changing our actions.  And instead, they are all variations on either "fight" (dig in your heels and refuse to consider you might have done something wrong,) or "flight" (running away from the uncomfortable consequences of admitting we messed up).

But it takes real guts, real chutzpah so to speak, to own up to your mistakes, and to seek to start again to make things right.  It takes real courage to say those impossible-sounding words, "I was wrong." And honestly, it takes zero courage to run from uncomfortable admissions or to dig your heels in and lash out at others as a way of avoiding having to own your own mess-ups.

This is the kind of honesty to which we are called as the followers of Jesus. And because all of us--certainly myself included at the top of the list--are cowards-seeking-to-be-in-recovery, this is our struggle.  It's the day-by-day struggle of taking a look at ourselves--especially where others help us to see our blind-spots--and admitting where we have been wrong.  And in a very importance sense, it's the sort of struggle you don't get through by pinning down the truth and wrestling it into submission, but actually the other way around.  You surrender to it, rather than insisting you are in charge of it.  Like David Foster Wallace writes, "The truth will set you free, but not until it is finished with you."

And this is the freedom we are given in the struggle: we don't have to be afraid anymore of admitting our mess-ups, because we know that there is grace in the truth-telling.  There is mercy precisely at the point of our mess-ups, and the only way to miss out on experiencing that forgiveness is to act like we don't need it.  There is the assurance, as the first letter of John puts it, that God is faithful to forgive our sins and put them away forever--but if we keep insisting we have nothing to forgive we'll never hand them over in the first place!

So today, what if we quit our various ways of running from the truth about ourselves?  What if, instead of evading blame for our mess-ups or digging our heels in with the insistence we don't have anything to admit, we listened to the voices convicting us?  What if we considered that each of us has the power to do the courageous thing and admit our mess-ups rather than insisting they are someone else's fault, and then from there, find the same courage enables us to start again?  

In other words, what if we dared to trust that promise that God is faithful enough and just enough to forgive us when we blow it, rather than thinking we have to convince God it wasn't our fault, or it wasn't a mistake in the first place?

Let us dare it today--let us allow the truth to have its fullest effect on us, even if it lead us <gulp> to say, "I was wrong."

Lord Jesus, let us find the courage to be honest, and to dare to trust your grace.