Sam Bush, “Getting It All Wrong (and The God Who Makes It Right)”
I’ll never forget the time I got in a lot of trouble on the playground. Do you have a memory like that burned into your psyche? For me, this is not a childhood memory, this happened about two years ago. I was in the middle of a feverish game of tag with a group of toddlers. Even though my competition had significantly shorter legs, I was giving it my all when I bumped into a two year old girl who fell to the ground, unharmed but upset. As I helped her up, her grandmother screamed “It’s all your fault! She fell down because of you! You should look where you’re going! You should go!” I apologized, mostly out of fear of being banished from the playground. Say what you want about how her response was less than gracious, but I was impressed that anyone could be so forthright. Playgrounds are rife territory for judging other people. People are constantly judging other parenting styles or other people’s kids, but nothing is ever expressed openly. And here was this woman, calling me out (chewing me out, really) to my face, pointed finger and all.
The encounter reminded me of James Parker’s “Ode to Getting Yelled At,” in which he argues that all of us could use a good berating once in a while. “To start with, you probably deserve it,” he writes. “Not for this — not for whatever it is you’re being yelled at about — but for the other stuff. You know what I’m talking about. The innumerable tiny offenses. All the evasions, hedgings, dodgings, accumulated in darkness … In general, yes, you should be denounced. By the blow of a ram’s horn in a beam of biblical light.” With a helpful dose of humor, Parker uncovers how, despite our best efforts to defend ourselves, we are all guilty.
We are highly trained in the art of self-defense. We are always at the ready with an excuse whenever we wrong someone - we were angry because we hadn’t slept well the night before; we lied, but only because we didn’t want to hurt his feelings. When we are accused, our natural response is not to admit our wrongdoing but to justify ourselves at all costs.
Our reading from the Book of Acts pours cold water onto our instinct to self-justify. The reading picks up in the middle of the story when Peter and John go into the temple to worship and they heal a paraplegic in Jesus’ name. When the witnesses of this miracle begin to crowd around, Peter uses this opportunity to preach. He says, “This isn’t by our own power, but the result of the Lord Jesus whom you handed over to Pilate though Pilate had decided to release him.” He calls out the entire crowd - many of whom had likely been there a few months prior when Jesus was crucified. Peter does not hold back. “You killed the Author of Life!” he says and goes into all the details of their guilt. He doesn’t do it to shame them. He says, “I know that you acted in ignorance;” you didn’t know what you were doing. Still, he shines the light of truth so that they may repent. He tells the crowd, “Repent and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out!”
This seems like a completely different Peter from the one we read about a few weeks ago, the man who cowardly denied Jesus three times and then hid during Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion. Now he’s putting his life on the line for Jesus? What happened to Peter? Well, after Jesus was raised, he allowed Peter to come clean and to profess his love for Jesus and then afterwards he said to Peter, “I want you to lead my church.” This is after Peter publicly cursed Jesus and failed him miserably. But you see what Jesus is saying? He’s saying, “Because you were the biggest failure, through repentance you become the best leader. Nothing gives you the courage to speak boldly than for you to plunge your failures into my grace. It’s only when your weakness is revealed that God’s strength is ushered in.
This kind of repentance and forgiveness is in stark contrast to our daily life. We often live between right and wrong, in a murky middle-ground of uncertainty. Many of us think it’s difficult to say that anything is objectively right or wrong. Every once in a while, however, we are ripped out of this ambiguity and thrust into the clear light of day.
The light of day is unflattering. It highlights our blemishes. When the light finds us, it finds our innumerable offenses accumulated in the darkness. And yet, despite our fears of being found in the wrong, being wrong can be a gateway to the truth that sets us free. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “A man in the wrong may more easily be convinced than one half-right.”
The literary critic Alan Jacobs once attended a philosophy conference during which a philosopher was publicly chewed out after giving a paper and responded by saying, “You’ve shown some real problems with my argument; I need to go back and think this over again, with your criticisms in mind. So thank you.” Alan Jacobs says it felt like a miracle. Admitting your mistakes in academia is a death sentence for your reputation. This philosopher risked losing the esteem of everyone in the room. And yet, through his repentance, the opposite came true. Jacobs says, “It’s tremendously liberating to be freed from the obligation to defend your every statement as though it’s a matter of life and death.” After all, Jesus does not call us to be right, nor does he call us to find the wrong in others.
In Christianity, getting it wrong is the only admissions requirement. Throughout his ministry, Jesus was never that interested in the people who were always right, but in those on the wrong side of history — the lost sheep, the lost coins, the lost sons. The ones who go home justified at the end of the day are not the ones who win every argument but those who cry out “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Lk 18:9-14). When our self-righteousness has been laid in the grave, God’s grace raises us as new creations. In other words, we need to know we are wrong before things can feel right again.
A friend of mine who’s a minister once met a man who was recklessly driving a golf-cart with a friend while intoxicated. The cart tipped over, tragically resulting in his friend’s death. In the aftermath, family members had attempted to comfort the man by saying that it wasn’t his fault or that such a tragic accident could have happened to anyone. Months later, he was still racked with guilt. He couldn’t sleep. His hand had developed a nervous tick. After listening to him intently, my friend said, “Well, it sounds like you feel responsible for what happened.” After being given a chance to admit his fault, the man’s nervous tick stopped. My friend ushered him through a short service in the Book of Common Prayer called “The Reconciliation of a Penitent” (p. 447) where a person can confess whatever they want. And the minister’s final response is, “The Lord has put away all your sins.” It’s one of my favorite things to do as a minister (in case you’re ever interested). As Peter says to the crowd in our reading, “the faith that is through Jesus has given you perfect health.”
We often have a disordered understanding of repentance and forgiveness. We think repentance leads to forgiveness, but Jesus shows us that it’s the other way around. God makes the first move.
You see, the only One who had never done anything wrong, was once given a death sentence. And yet, the Author of Life who we killed is also the Author of our salvation through His death. Through this miscarriage of justice, through this ultimate act of wrong, Jesus made everything right between us and God. Justice was served on our behalf and at his expense so that you would not live in fear of God’s judgment, but in the light of God’s love. When the world or the devil points a finger at you on life’s playground demanding justice, we need not defend ourselves because Jesus Christ is our defender.
On the Cross, Jesus fulfilled all our vain efforts to self-justify. He alone is our justification. As Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “Since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand.” Our hope, you see, is not in righting our own wrongs, but in the God who will make every wrong right.
