By Norman H. Patterson Jr.
Theoretical Forgiveness
I understood what justification meant theologically. For me, and for many pastors for that matter, real forgiveness was theoretical. I could quote to you the Bible passages and point to where it talks about it in The Westminster Confession. I could assure the poor sinner sitting in front of me that God does indeed forgive them of their sin. But to really understand forgiveness? I can't say I really did.
It wasn't until I found myself divorced, broken and alone in my own apartment in Guadalajara, Mexico in 2016 that I hit bottom. Before that, I was quite proud of myself. I believed God called me to be a pastor ever since I was a little boy. Imagine the thrill of believing God Himself wanted you! I left for Seminary and proceeded to pastor for the next 30 years.
Thank God I’m Not Like That
During that time, I talked to my share of broken and despondent people. I've had my share of desperate calls late at night with hysterical people who just wanted a reason to live. I've heard confessions, regrets, sorrows throughout my tenure as a pastor.
And, to be honest, there was a part of me that secretly said, like the Pharisee in Luke 18:11, "God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector." I would never admit it at the time but thought I was better than them.
“God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.”
Don't get me wrong, just like every other human being, I had my share of sin. I fought the battles of selfishness, lust, anger - sometimes winning and sometimes losing. But I always believed that God would forgive me for my sins, after all, my sins that weren't that bad.
It Was All Theory Until…
It was all theory until I found myself divorced, alone, and feeling guilty as hell. No rationalizing could make the things I did okay. And here I was in a foreign land feeling more lost than the Prodigal Son himself.
And no one came to rescue me. My adult children were too devastated to help. My parents watched a 31-year marriage disintegrate right before their eyes. They did the best they could to help me. People I had known for years heard the rumors and, for whatever reason, dismissed me, maybe even avoided me. Perhaps they felt I deserved it. I don't know. My critics had a field day. My failures confirmed all the rotten things they believed about me all along.
All I knew at the time was pain.
Lost and Alone
To be that lost and alone is something I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. How many nights I writhed in pain repeating over and over again a phrase in the 23rd Psalm, "For Thou art with me.... for Thou art with me... for Thou art with me..."? And every night, I had to remember why ending my life would cause my family even more pain than they already were suffering.
I couldn't go home. I had no home to go to.
He Left The Ninety-Nine
To be so lost that there was no hope, to have reached the bottom, to be in a place that only Jesus Christ Himself can rescue me. - I know now what that is like. I was once part of the ninety-nine. Now Jesus had to leave them behind and rescue me.
And Christ did come for me. He saved me. He rescued me. He didn't rescue me from the pain or the consequences of my actions. But He did save me from my sin. Before, my sins were "tolerable" sins. The sins He forgave now were intolerable. Unless I totally relied on His blood to wash away the stain, I could not live with myself.
And wash me, He did! And save me, He did! And I am free!
For The 100th Sheep
He came and rescued me, the 100th sheep! I don't think I'll ever be part of the ninety-nine ever again. The least I can do now is try and minister to others who cannot save themselves. I know what that is like.
I don’t expect the ninety-nine to understand. My calling now isn’t to them. It is to give hope to the lost 100th sheep of the world. This ministry is for them. And if Christ uses anything I say or do to help just one lost person in their darkest moment, then all I’ve gone through is not in vain.
