There are four words that could be the start of something amazing.
They catalyze spiritual growth. They heal relationships. They unleash rest and peace into the soul.
You just need to make these four words a regular part of your conversations.
They at least need to be woven into your heart.
Be warned. These are not words we tend to speak often. In fact, the flesh hates these four words. The Pharisee spirit resists them like the plague.
But these words put us in a posture of possibly unexpected renewal, growth, and joy.
The four words come in two varieties.
First is the “I could be wrong” variety.
The other is the “I do not know” variety.
If we are going to be right about anything, let it be this: grace flows downhill.
Gently, purposefully, and naturally as a mountain stream.
Grace flows down to the humble. Another word for humble is teachable. Only the teachable can say, “I could be wrong” and “I don’t know.”
As a pastor, I’ll confess for the rest of us.
We pastors are the worst about being unteachable. It may be our elevated positions of authority. Not to mention the titles of honor.
We were teachable a while back. Before seminary. Before all the ministry experience.
Maybe as reverends we think we’re supposed to have all the answers and always be right. About everything.
Like the Pharisees. They pretended to be infallible, especially on religious matters and in their judgments upon those less right than they.
Oh, how they prided themselves on being right.
Do you remember the name Jesus gave to the Pharisees? Hypocrites.
I totally relate to the Pharisees.
Maybe you do, too.
And you know how weighty it feels maintaining an image of infallibility. Always making the right decision. Taking the right turn in life. Giving the right advice.
Eventually, the line between what is pretend (my infallibility) and what is real (my fallibility—only Jesus is infallible) begins to blur, and I believe what I want others to believe about myself.
That I am always right.
To utter the four words “I could be wrong” or “I don’t know” would be anathema.
And so I develop a Pharisaical delusion.
Until the Spirit wakes me with a kiss.
Not with a bolt of lightning or a swift kick in the rear. Oh, he may use that method at times to rouse us from the delusion. And let’s be grateful when he does.
But most often, the curtain of reality is lifted when the Father gently and kindly allows me to see the cross with new eyes.
God wakes us as his children like a parent a child in the morning.
With a kiss.
My heart may be groggy and blurry at first. But because of the great love with which he has loved me, my Abba brings his new morning mercies into greater and greater focus, reminding me that I’m not his because of my rightness but because of the rightness of Jesus.
Yes, the truth of God is infallible. But so is his grace in Jesus.
In fact, in Romans 2:4 we discover it’s the kindness of God that leads us to repentance— a kind of moral honesty that freely confesses, “I could be wrong” and “I don’t know.”
Ah. That feels like rest.
No more need to fake it. No more posing or posturing.
I don’t need to say the right things or affirm positions, whether theological, moral, economic, cultural, or political, that others expect me to affirm.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s okay to be right. But even being right is grace, isn’t it? As long as being right doesn’t grow toxic with self-righteousness.
Grace also allows us to say, “I could be wrong. I don’t know.”
And in those places, maybe there’s even more grace?
I wonder how many arguments, conflicts, and broken relationships could be prevented if we learned the four words to which grace flows freely and fully?
So here are three challenges.
(1) Be less certain and more curious. What is God up to? Not sure. I don’t know why this is happening or how it will turn out, but I’m trusting him through it, believing he is working all things together for my ultimate good.
(2) Weave the four words into a conversation today. Don’t force it. Be honest. And see if it doesn’t feel like freedom.
(3) Hold truth tightly. Seek truth with all your heart. But hold it to the degree you’re convinced by the evidence, whether it be your understanding of the Scriptures, engineering principles, computer programing, parenting practices, etc.
Whatever the topic, the cross teaches us to live with a posture of teachability, being willing to say, “I could be wrong” and “I don’t know.” But I’m willing to learn.
I’m even wondering, is this post right?
I don’t know! 😅 Maybe I’ll edit or even delete the whole thing.
But one thing I do know,
“20 I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. 21 I do not set aside the grace of God. For if righteousness comes through the law, Christ died for nothing” (Galatians 2:20-21).
“I May be wrong” “I May not be as smart as I think I am” “I may not know as much as I think I do or say” I came face to face with this reality last night at a community meeting speaking with our Superintendent of Schools. I learned that I didn’t know the facts and nuances of the situation and that I could learn something valuable. And now, I can move forward with a different perspective. Being humble is the one quality that I have tried to develop since I became a Christ follower 4 years ago. It has done more to rebuild relationships and remove stress than anything else.
Thanks for this McKay, I'm sending it out to all of the people who disagree with me. They really need this Word from God. lol