I will never forget a meeting I had with a forty-year-old, developmentally delayed woman whose pregnancy was complicated by the diagnosis of a potentially fatal fetal abnormality. The purpose of our meeting was to discuss the expected hospital course, potential complications, and risk of death or impairment for her baby. Her developmental disability was the result of physical abuse she suffered as a child at the hands of her mother. I tried to help her understand the seriousness of her baby’s condition by making my explanation as simple as possible. After I was finished, I asked her if she had any questions or concerns, and then she dropped a bombshell; her only worry was that she would physically abuse her baby just like her mom had abused her! I was devastated by her honesty. Her disability had removed all of her social filters, giving her the freedom to speak what was truly in her heart. How poignantly sad and yet refreshingly honest! I have dealt with many parents who came from abusive childhoods, but I have never heard one of them voice the fear that they could potentially become an abuser themselves even though statistics show that they are at higher risk of adopting similar behavior. This woman knew the source of her problem and didn’t want to inflict the same crime on another innocent life. She wore her original sin on her sleeve, speaking what most of us think, but socially hide. This simple woman had more wisdom than most of us will acquire in a lifetime; she admitted she was a sinner in need of help.

We have all been riveted by the conversion stories of people who were lost in a dark world of sin and then rescued by the power of the cross. But have we ever stopped to ask ourselves what part of their story was actually the most compelling? While God’s power to transform lives is miraculous, I would suggest that the aspect of the story that may be the most powerful is the courage of the speaker to publicly confess their sins. Maybe the most important part of spreading the good news of a savior is our willingness to admit that we need to be saved. Maybe more people would enter our sanctuaries if they saw us performing open casket funerals for our sin instead of polishing our tombs with white washed worship. If we want the world to take us seriously we need to show it that the church is not a spa for sinners, but a refuge for the repentant. God pulled out the big guns to kill our sin so the least we can do is bring it out to be shot.

We need to wear our original sin on our sleeves so that our fellow sin stained friends will feel comfortable bringing their dirty laundry into the Lord’s Laundromat to be made pure white by the deep cleaning blood of the lamb. We should never hear a seeker say that they didn’t feel like they were good enough to enter the church, when it is actually our confession that we are bad that gets us a front row seat.

“The only thing of my very own which I contribute to my redemption is the sin from which I need to be redeemed.” (William Temple)