caution: long but good

Try telling someone who is not good at admitting failure that they aren't good at admitting failure. Tell me how it goes for you. In the meantime, let me tell you a little story.

"Once upon a time [ahem, now], Matt and I were leading a small group in the Nearly and Newly Married class at the Austin Stone. We would meet with our group on Sundays and Wednesday nights. Sunday was a combination of teaching and discussion. The format was usually teach, discuss, teach, discuss...

One Sunday [or possibly yesterday], the topic of teaching was Love and Respect, based on Ephesians 5:33. The main premise of the lesson was that women primarily need love and men primarily need respect.

So our teacher, Evan, taught on a woman's need for love first, and then he gave us about 10 minutes to spend in group discussion. (Note that discussion time was usually interesting for Matt and me because apparently I had a control problem that should have been discovered a long time before it actually was.)

On this particular Sunday, Matt was leading this discussion time and doing a great job. But at one point, I got nervous about what he was going to say next, which caused me to abruptly interrupt him in a very awkward, public, and obvious way that totally embarrassed him. It was a big and terrible mistake on my part. And it was awkward for everyone!

So, you know how when you do something humiliating like that, you start to feel hot and sick to your stomach and just awful? Well tack that feeling onto the next topic of teaching that day, which was "a man's need for respect." OUCH! And tack onto that the very emphatic admonition, "Ladies, it really, really, humiliates men to be disrespected in public..." You're killing me here, man!

So on that day, I immediately apologized, but instead of believing Matt when he told me that he had forgiven me, I felt the need to apologize at least 100 times over. On top of that, I continued to get the hot flashes of humiliation each time I replayed this scenario in my head. The end."

Fast forward to this morning, when I am talking to my best friend, Rachel, via g-chat. Rach isn't shy about telling the truth. Our conversation went something like this:

• Leah: (Tell humiliating story that I just told you.)
• Rachel: Well, it was good that you made a mistake in front of your group, now they know you are real and not perfect.
• Leah: I'd rather be perfect.
• Rachel: I know you would.
• Leah: What does that mean, Rachel!? (I know exactly what she means, btw.)
  
• Rachel: Well, we'd all like to be perfect in public, but I think that you don't like messing up more than most people because it's hard for you to admit when you are wrong.
• Leah: (Laughing to self and thinking, "Wow, my mom and Matt would both agree with you.") Thanks, butt-face!
• Rachel: Hmmmm, I really struck a chord there- ya think?
• Time passes...
• Leah: Yes, I know I can be stubborn, but can we distinguish here? I will admit that I am wrong, but I just hate admitting it more than the average person. (Can you see me having trouble with this very thing?)
• Rachel: Okay, yes, that is what I meant. (Being very gracious.)
• Leah: RACHEL! Now I have to deal with the fact that I suck at admitting failure... which is a failure that I have to admit...why are you doing this to me!?

God bless friends who speak truth to their most obstinate friends.

Yes, I'd like to believe that I am a wonderful and perfect person, instead of a weak and imperfect sinner whose only hope is to receive forgiveness. However, I can see it is actually more arrogant to continue to apologize and obsess over mistakes because it shows that you can't get over the fact that you might possibly be the type of person who could do such a silly thing.

Ahhh! "Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" And also special thanks to Rachel today!