I Am Not a Good Girl

“Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”—Luke 7:47

Back in September of 2012, our family welcomed our daughter, Anah Joy, into our lives. Unlike my other three children, she was adopted. And unlike my other children, she was born with a special need: Down Syndrome.

All my life, I prided myself in being a “good” person. I tried to do my best work to honor God. I sacrificed myself to serve. I was not afraid to obey in the hard things. In general, I thought I was a pretty healthy and devoted Christian—if I compared myself to others.

However, this same seeming goodness fooled me. My heart began to believe that I was favored by God and that my successes and fruitfulness were the result of my good works. Pride festered in my heart unseen and poisoned me.

God saw what I could not, and in His lovingkindness, He brought Anah into my life.

Though I had good intentions when we adopted her—again, something I thought was a sign of my maturity—God’s lessons may not have been for her, but for me.

Through the stresses and strains of those early years—trying to toilet train her, teaching her how to communicate with us without words and in a new language, reconfiguring our once free family schedule to conform with her need for strict routine—I began to see the truth about my heart.

Because I was spiritually and physically depleted much of the time, there was no filter. I did not try hard to refrain from angry outbursts, frustrated responses, and unfair accusations. I just didn’t have it in me.

The pressure of my situation was actually God’s grace to shine forth the truth about my heart. It was finally on display to me in full and living color.

And I was not a good girl.

For a long time, I resisted this revelation. I tried to make up for it with more good works so I wouldn’t have to see it. I ignored it. And I hid in shame from God and others when I could not face the hypocrisy in my own heart.

None of these things worked. None of these things would help me get out of the pit I found myself in.

But God.

In His great mercy and love, He reached down into my darkness and reminded me that it was for these very things that Jesus died.

If I was willing to confess those sins, He would be faithful to forgive my sin (1 John 1:9).

But that would require admitting and agreeing with Him that I was a complete, utter, wretched sinner. I would need to face the truth that I was not a good girl and admit that I was thoroughly sick and needed the healing only He could provide for me.

And you know what? He has done just that. Seeing the depths of my sin means that He needed to forgive me of much. As long as I didn’t think I had a lot of sin to deal with, my understanding of the incredible grace of the gospel was thin.

But the good thing about seeing how sinful we are—though it is painful—means that we also see how great God’s mercy towards us is as well. When I understood that sin is not just doing bad things but being a wicked and evil person in the very nature of my being—then I began to appreciate far more what Christ has done for me.

Life is still hard. Nine years in and the adoption is no easier. Anah hasn’t changed all that much, but I hope that I have.

I hope that I will not stop forgetting how low I have sunk—not to keep punishing myself, but to keep reminding me of the great distance between me and the holy God.

I remember my sin not as penance—for it is completely carried away, covered, removed, never to be seen again—but as a prompt for gratitude.

In this Thanksgiving season, will you join me in thanking God for the greatest blessing He has ever given us—forgiveness and restoration in Christ?

And as we anticipate this holiday here in the States, I pray that this gift will then inspire you to do the good works He has ordained in advance for you to do.