I’ve been thinking a lot about mistakes; primarily my own.

We all make them of course. There’s no question we are all going to make them again. And again. And again.  Making mistakes is as regular as eating. This is made splendidly clear in our confession, “Forgive me for the things I have done and the things I have left undone.”  (Mistakes are not just about actions you know, but non-actions as well.)

Why does something so routine become the very things I dwell on, toss and turn over? I can allow my sins - my mistakes - to define my days and nights. I run away from the scene, duck from the person and can endlessly justify my actions to myself. In short, I give my shame the power to define me.  And when that happens I give the sin (and the shame) far more weight than I give to the power of forgiveness, or the power of love or the power of God to use even my mistakes in His work of restoration and redemption.

Jesus dealt with sin in such a promising sort of way. Recognizing its weight, clearly forgiving, but then very plainly saying, “Go and sin no more.”

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