Free Because I'm (Already) a Failure

"I already knew you were a sinner."

Surprisingly, I think that was probably the most comforting line I could have heard at the time. The conversation was with my new pastor. I was sharing with him that I had some issues I had to deal with in my heart that I foresaw potentially hurting our relationship for a while. I went to him to make him aware of the situation and to ask him to hold me accountable as I dealt with the issues.

Going into his office in the first place was difficult for me. Confessing to my pastor (who also happens to be my new boss) that I had issues was not my idea of a good first impression. I tried everything to avoid having to go into his office, but eventually I realized I had too much stuff going on in my heart to not let him be aware of what was going on. So in I went. I told him about my current struggles in this certain area, asked him to hold me accountable, and apologized in advance for any strain that could put on our relationship. And when he opened his mouth to respond, out came: "I already knew you were a sinner."

It may seem weird, but knowing that fact has made a huge difference for me. I'm not sure why I thought I could convince my pastor that I was perfect. In fact, it's actually ironic that I would ever even think to try that, since my job is to help people live in the truth that all of us are sinners, but Jesus offers us free and unmerited salvation. I guess my pride was rearing its ugly head, thinking it was better to appear perfect than to appear broken but be truly perfected in Christ. And, just like the reality of the gospel that our salvation is not something we earn frees us to be real with God, confess our sins, and be healed, the reality of the fact that my pastor already knows I'm a sinner frees me to live a life of honesty with him. When I make a mistake, I don't need to hide it out of a fear that this will ruin his perception of me. He already knows I'm a sinner. And besides, if my failure were to ruin his perception of me, it was probably a perception that needed to be ruined anyway.

It's funny the freedom that comes from knowing that others know we're not perfect.