A hopeful confession.

So I have some confession.

One. P90X Take 2 failed just like the first.
Two. I’m a sinner.

I think growing up in church can be a disservice to ones humility. Because growing up within that tightly woven, “righteous” family, caused me to stay out of trouble.  And honestly, growing up, I felt that I sinned less than the average pagan. Jesus once said that those who have been forgiven much, forgive much. I suppose it would work mirror image as well. If you haven’t sinned “that much” you won’t forgive that much. It’s a lie really. Because God doesn’t measure our sin up against each other, he measures it up against Himself. And all fall short.

My confession lies somewhere between not recognizing my sins and not forgiving as I’ve been forgiven.  I’ve judged.  I’ve cut off.  And I’ve unloved some of the loveliest people I know.  God is faithful and just, and also rather clever at driving home His points. He got me.  And through a series of selfish acts, He’s slowly revealing my own black heart.  The black heart that is just as bad as my bi-sexual friend.  The black heart that’s just as obsessed with worldly flesh as a rapper’s songs might portray.  And the black heart that is in just as much Jesus-need as everyone else.

But we don’t dwell on our sins, no.  For that would remove all purpose from our lives.  Instead, we use them for the benefit of Christ, and proclaim from the rooftops how we know from personal experience that Jesus can wipe them away.

So hold me to that.


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