I Desire Mercy And Not Sacrifice

“What if a drug-addicted prostitute came to church and sat beside you one Sunday, how will you feel?”

This question lingered in my mind since my husband raised it during his message a few Sundays ago. I mulled it over and contemplated how I would react if this did happen to our church. After several days of ruminating on it, I came to a definite conclusion.

I am ashamed to admit: I believe her presence would make me feel so uncomfortable and compel me to move away from her. I would probably pretend she is not there or most likely not even talk to her. I might even be offended by her presence.

I asked myself, “Why?” The answer, “Pride.”

Pride because I deem myself better for not committing sins as “big” as hers. Pride because I estimate myself “superior” compared to her for not stumbling over vile sins of the flesh (as if all sin is not sickening to God). (Really, the keyword here is “compare.” Comparing myself to others readily spurs my arrogant heart to either false humility or false superiority.)
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