Honesty, Forgiveness, and Grace

Luke Combs in his ode to the honesty of Beer in “Beer Never Broke My Heart” states what he believes are fundamental truths, “Trucks break down, dogs run off, Politicians lie[.]” Why is it that politicians fail to tell the truth? In my opinion, it is because politicians believe that the consequences of being honest about their shortcomings are more difficult to face than the ease of denial.

To me, I feel that this type of behavior confounds one’s mistakes. This behavior represents a backward view of humanity. If it is the truth that it is always better to run from one’s mistakes than to own them, then we have a serious problem. It is my belief that all human beings are flawed, and will make mistakes. Whether that person is an average American or President of the United States, they remain to be a fallible human being. Thus, to always run from one’s mistakes, and to deny reality is a greater sin than failure itself. The fear of being imperfect causes many of us to cover our own improprieties for fear of reprisal. But what of grace, forgiveness, and salvation? Without these extensions of Christian virtue, we force all mankind to hide their humanity, and imperfection and allow dishonesty to become habitual practice.

In my personal experience, the offering of grace and forgiveness allowed me to have a relationship with my father. It is without doubt that my father has had a tough life. He has worked essentially the same job since 1981. A job that asks a man to give his body to the company for meager returns. As he is a construction worker, I have watched my father’s body diminish throughout my life. As a child, oftentimes my father was too hampered by injuries and fatigue from work to do something as simple as play catch with me. While he progressed the injuries got worse, oftentimes forcing me to carry his workload as he struggled to walk.

The practice for which I had to forgive my father was his affinity for spending time at our local bar rather than being at home. This conflict came to a head during my senior year of high school when he asked about being on the field on senior night for my last home football game. It was the first time I told my dad how I felt. At 17 years old, I told him that he wasn’t there for me enough. I told him that he wasn’t there when I needed him. So on senior night, I stayed in the locker room, deflecting questions about why I wasn’t on the field. I didn’t regret it then, and I don’t regret it now. This decision was not one of adolescent rebellion, but a testament to truth.

I didn’t know how my dad would react. But his reaction told me more about his character than words can say. Seemingly, from that day on, he changed. He spent less time at the bar, and more with me. He stopped putting off going to the doctor and started looking after his health. We had more conversations after that point than the 17 years prior. We finally talked openly and honestly. He stopped running from the truth, he wrestled with it and chose to become a better man. Much of those changes have come to stay, and I love my father immensely for it. He chose the love of his son over pride. This is truly a lesson that when grace is openly offered, the fallacy of insurmountable truth is washed away.

This lesson has continued to guide me through life. I deal honestly, I extend grace when it is required of me, and I ask for it in my transgressions. While many factors are important in public life, I think none other is deserving of being said to be in line with divine providence than the principles of honesty, forgiveness, and grace. Unscrupulous men and women may enter public life with claims of infallibility, hoping to usurp those who own their impropriety, but I will always favor those who acknowledge that they are indeed human. It is my truest belief that my heart will be closed to no person, I will offer grace, and upon acceptance believe that person to be a mortal just as me on equal footing before God.