Have you ever noticed how we remember our stories of pain? We’re almost never in them as sinners. In our version, other people are always sinning against us. They commit, they omit. As for us, well, we’re just the bundle of good intentions living under the cloud of their failures.
But that’s not the whole truth, is it?
The Story Sin Tells
One of the marks of sin’s deceptive character is its ability to conceal itself from us. It blinds us to our agency. It shifts the blame. We can’t locate ourselves in the story. We’re just like Adam, under the influence of sin. When God came looking for him in the garden, Adam quickly replied, “The woman you gave me…” (Gen. 3:12). Translation? I may have disobeyed, but I wasn’t really the sinner here—it was her. Wait, Lord, it was also YOU!
That’s what sin does. It tells us that we’re always the victim, never the culprit. It removes responsibility from our hands and keeps us stuck in resentment. And by living as one who is perpetually sinned against, we lose sight of our need for a Savior.
“The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost” (1 Tim. 1:15).
Sinners need atonement. But if our biggest problem is other people and how we are—or were—treated, we no longer need a Savior. We need a lawyer. God alone is perpetually sinned against. The rest of us are, like Paul, sinners in need of grace.
The Story Resilience Requires
But here’s what we must know: resilience will never come from rewriting the past or sanitizing our story to make ourselves look less sinful or more noble. Real resilience is forged when we honestly acknowledge both—the failings of others and our own culpability. We forgive because Christ forgave us, and we repent because Christ died for sinners like us.
This kind of resilience resists the twin temptations of cynicism and idealism. We don’t sugarcoat the failures of others, but neither do we edit our own. We don’t deny the pain, but we don’t drown in bitterness either. Instead, we bear the reality of fallenness—ours and theirs—and keep walking.
That’s at the heart of resilience in ministry. It’s also at the heart of the gospel.
Today’s Tenacious Question
Am I rewriting my story of pain to make myself look noble—or am I honestly acknowledging both how I was sinned against and how I have sinned?
Prayer
Lord, You know the stories I tell myself. Too often, I cast myself as the innocent one and others as the guilty ones. Forgive me. Give me the courage to own my sin, the humility to receive Your grace, and the strength to forgive others as You have forgiven me. Teach me to bear the pain of fallenness without bitterness, knowing that my resilience rests in Christ alone. Amen.
