Confessions...

*I first shared this post (and a series of "Confessions") over 5 years ago on a previous blog, and it still humbles me to think of the lengths to which Jesus has gone to draw me close. Many of you came to the blog after I wrote this series, so I'm sharing it again over the next several months. If it connects with you in any way I'd love to hear from you!

Confession #1:

I’m a sinner.

Shocking, I know. But seriously, what is shocking is that I lived my life, up until a few years ago, as if that wasn’t the case.

Sure, I knew I was a sinner, I had read it repeatedly in the Bible and memorized verses that spelled it out in black and white, but I never really believed it. In fact, I never would have admitted this out loud of course, but I felt like I pretty much had the whole Christian living thing down. Asked Jesus into my heart? (Um, when I was 5-years-old) Check. Didn’t cuss? Check. Youth pastor’s wife? Check.

I was mentally checking off the boxes on my “good Christian” checklist without ever recognizing that, deep down, I was a Pharisee. If you’ve read anything at all about them in the Bible you know that they were known for all the things they were against, and Jesus repeatedly rebuked them for getting between him and people who really needed him with all of their religious rules. Not exactly great mentor material. But when we moved to India in 2007, I was finally confronted with how much I had in common with those reviled religious leaders of old.

Spiritually speaking, living in India was like walking into a cage full of brown bears with salmon strapped to my chest. It was a daily assault on my pristine religious ideas, and in the midst of the pressure cooker of Third World living my religious facade began to crack. I began to see the true condition of my heart in a way that I never had before. And what I saw wasn’t pretty.

But everything changed the day I stood shaking with a rage I had never felt before, over something stupid--loud Diwali music (and the many, many other near-daily reminders of how unholy I really was). But I finally recognized in that moment, I was capable of a level of violence that I never imagined possible (I didn’t act on it, in case any of you are worried), and that’s when it finally hit me...

I was (am) a wreck without Jesus.

I am a sinner, and I needed someone to rescue me from myself. It's funny how one moment can turn an entire lifetime on its head. In that one moment, I realized that my sins weren’t any smaller or bigger than the brothel madam or the murderer in prison–in the eyes of Jesus we were the same. Up until that point I had found it very easy to look down my nose (or turn it up in disgust) at all of the other “sinners” that I encountered. It wasn't until I realized that I was just like them, and the only thing "good" about me is Jesus and his grace and forgiveness, did I finally begin to see myself as I truly was.

The book of Luke recounts a story that Jesus told to Simon, a Pharisee, in response to his self-righteous indignation that Jesus would allow a prostitute to wash his feet with her tears and hair.

Jesus said, “‘Two men were in debt to a banker. One owed five hundred silver pieces, the other fifty. Neither of them could pay up, and so the banker canceled both debts. Which of the two would be more grateful?’

Simon answered, ‘I suppose the one who was forgiven the most.’

‘That’s right,’ said Jesus…(speaking of the prostitute, he said) ”...She was forgiven many, many sins, and so she is very, very grateful. If the forgiveness is minimal, the gratitude is minimal.”
Luke 7:41-47 The Message

Reading that passage, I weep for all of the years that my gratitude was so minimal because I believed I needed so little forgiveness. Now I know better, and I am so very, very grateful for God’s love and grace.