“I can’t have help when the problem is my fault.”

I scribbled this paralyzing lie on a scrap of paper and held it in my hands with my head hanging down. Folding, and refolding, tears streaming down my face. I was finally externalizing the words that had been haunting me for years.

These words held me in chains, created a barrier between me and others, and left me alone and lonely. And worse yet, these words kept me from a more complete understanding of the Truth that I so desperately needed.

Show me the Truth, I whispered in a breathy prayer through tears.

I died for you while you were completely incapable of helping yourself. I fixed those mess ups before you made them. I loved you and I chose you, knowing the wreck you would make of your life, before you were even born.

Why was this truth so difficult to accept? How could I push past the belief that I needed to bear the full consequences for the mistakes that I had made?

I heard my own voice in my head, scolding my children… “This is your mess. You need to clean it up.” or “You created this problem, it is yours to fix.”

And the voices of others who didn’t know my whole story saying things about others like, “Well, if she didn’t get pregnant…” or “These people on food stamps with their iPhones buying Doritos and pop” or “Why can’t ‘they’ just make better decisions?” I have to admit, I have likely said or thought similar things about people whose lives look differently than mine.

Even worse are these comments (said directly to me, about me), “Maybe your son should be placed with a two parent family.” or “What did you expect when you decided to adopt?” or “Adopting is like marrying a drug addict. You shouldn’t get help because you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

But these words held me in captivity to shame. They held me in captivity to the belief that if my circumstances were somehow related to my own decisions or sins, I could not have help getting out of them. They also kept me from loving and serving others who needed grace extended to them.

We all have a desire for justice to be served. For people to get what they deserve. When we see someone in need, we often believe they are reaping what they have sewn. Perhaps this is the consequence for their mistakes, their drug addictions, their promiscuity.

Finally, He gently whispered to me, “If you believe that you have to bear the full consequences for your own sins, then why did I have to die?”

The Truth says: “For while WE were still helpless, at the appointed moment, Christ died for the ungodly. For rarely will someone die for a just person- though for a good person perhaps someone might dare to die. But God proves His own love for us in that while WE were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:6-8)

And this is grace. Beautiful, overwhelming grace.

Grace is a person saying, “I’ll take the responsibility for your crime. I’ll pay your debt. I’ll sacrifice so that you can have relief.”

How generous. How loving. How magnificent.

The most natural response is “but I’m not worth that. I don’t deserve it.” And we don’t deserve it, at all. But it’s not about you, or me. It’s about the grace-giver. How someone treats you says more about THEM than it says about YOU. God’s decision to lavish grace upon you, and me, and the drug addict and the prostitute, is telling us of his abundant love, generosity, mercy, forgiveness and acceptance. There is nothing you could do to deserve it because it’s not about you, it’s about HIM.

When we, as the Church, decide that it’s our job to determine if someone deserves our generosity, grace or forgiveness and deny them aid because their sin is messier or more complicated than ours is, we are failing. We are failing to believe that Jesus’ death was payment enough for that person’s sins. And we are failing to be the hands and feet of Christ in giving out that undeserved grace.

With these truths imprinted in my heart, I took the tattered scrap of paper and walked forward to the front of the sanctuary. With a nail and a hammer I secured the lie to the cross.

For this, He died. He died so that I could walk in freedom and a newness of life. He died so that I could receive the tangible help that I need, even when I don’t deserve it. The Church shows God’s grace when she serves and loves others, especially in the disgusting, entangled mess of sin. Especially then.

As Good Friday approaches I hope that you will remember that Jesus died for you even before you sinned. No matter what your life looks like, he has already taken the punishment that you deserved. When you refuse to allow others to bear some of your burdens, you are refusing them the opportunity of obeying and serving God.

Maybe this holy week looks like loving others who don’t seem to deserve the help. Or maybe it means accepting forgiveness and grace that is so richly offered through Jesus’ death.

I’d love to talk more about this with you. If you have questions, please send me an email!