I was wrong, and I'm so sorry

By Andy Hornbaker Jr.

It has been said that the three hardest words you will ever say are, "I was wrong."

In spite of knowing in the heart of our soul that we are wrong, there is a powerful pull not to admit it or let our wrong be known.  Few things frighten us more than confessing specific sins.  In a general sense, to acknowledge sin often is viewed as an honorable thing but owning a specific sin in some confessional way usually is ill advised.

Personally, I struggle with knowing my own spiritual failures, let alone allowing others into that sacredly private place in my life.  Painfully, I admit that I am someone who tends to live with a kind of constant inner shame concerning the true me.  I live more in a state of defeat from my past sin rather than the confident, constant state of victory over it.

For me, some of the most impacting and reverberating words in all of Scripture are the absolutely haunting words of David after he committed adultery with Bathsheba and then arranged the death of her husband: "For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me" (Psalm 51).

I can identify with those words as my past sin can usually be found in that place David called, "always before me."

One of the more challenging commands of Scripture for me is James 5:16: "Confess your sins to each other."  In my imagination, I marvel at the prospect of someone living that out in his or her daily life.  And, yet, I can also imagine the incredible freedom that must come from being true to others and to self.

Often I have longed for a community in which I could be confessional without the fear of their response.  Still, confession is a spiritual discipline required for anyone who wishes to continue the process of seeing more of life under the Spirit's control rather than the flesh.  Regardless of the repercussions, it is imperative that all of us discover how to practice the confession of sins to one another and to God.

Knowing that confession is never complete until there is profession, I would like to take a somewhat halting step toward my own need to make an "I was wrong" confession.

For about 15 months I used alcohol, mostly wine, to self-medicate.

After 50 years of being a tee-totaling nondrinker, I suddenly began using wine, mostly at night, to help me relax, get to sleep, and to attempt escape from personal struggles.

My sudden use of alcohol really began a couple of years before I took that first drink.  I had been the pastor of a church for about 17 years when I noticed that no matter how hard I tried I could not seem to move forward with the church.  I felt I was not getting a very good return on my work, and I started to coast and live out my past relationship with God.

Uninspired, I began to isolate myself from others, eliminating the opportunity for accountability and observation.  A deep sense of sadness was creeping into my soul, and I was not dealing with it correctly.

I saw my struggles as weaknesses that others surely never had.  I believe I was experiencing a form of depression, but I struggled - and I mean struggled - on.  On the outside, everything appeared to be going fine.  In fact, I had birthed an international ministry that allowed me to help, onsite, foreign churches and Christian movements that otherwise could not afford it.

I was beyond exhausted when I boarded the plane in Chicago for China.  My tank was empty and fumeless.  I did not realize it at the time, but I had reached bottom.  It was the natural result of my trying to live the spiritual life in the power of the flesh.

On the flight I was bumped to business class, and I sat next to a guy from Florida who talked as if he was in a similar emotional and physical place as me.  He just wanted to sleep.

We were offered free wine, and he took it while I turned it down, but he repeatedly spoke of its fine taste and how relaxed he was beginning to feel.  "Maybe this would help me," I thought.  I took two glasses and drifted into a deep and replenishing sleep.

Now, I was hooked.

Not hooked on alcohol so much as hooked on the idea that wine could help with the stress and struggles of my life.  I started self-medicating with wine a few nights a week and things went progressively deeper and deeper into a dependency on wine for its precious effect of momentarily segregating me from my feelings of inadequacy and fear.  It became an obsession.  I became addicted to the effects it seemed to provide me as a genuine escape from my world.  I have wished a thousand times I had never taken that first drink, but I did.  I was wrong.

That decision started a huge downfall in my life.  After drinking for 15 months, I got caught by the leadership of our church.  The next Sunday I stood before my congregation and confessed to what I had done.  It was the last time I ever stepped into that church building.

I lost a lot of things that day.  I lost my job, but I also lost my reputation, credibility, self-esteem, friends and a sense of belonging.  I gained things like embarrassment, shame, fear, self-doubt and loneliness.

Many people were sent into a tailspin as everyone tried to figure out what to do with me.  The damage my sin had caused was massive, and I had no idea how far-reaching the impact would be.  I hurt a lot of people.

There is just no way to recapture in written words the depth and breadth of the effect my sin had on others as well as myself.  Many innocent victims, most of all my family, were left to try and find some sort of solace and sense for what I had done.

For me, the greatest impact has been the way people just leave you after such a fall.  It wasn't as though I'd been replaced; I was erased.

I can only imagine how massive the pain was for others.  It was a lifetime of nightmares all come true.  There had to be a thousand right ways to handle the depression, burnout or absolute dryness I was feeling.  But because of pride, I chose to try to handle it my way, in secret, and through the power of the flesh.

The eventual result has been a deep, deep resolve to find life in Christ again and not the world.  More than ever, I want to rediscover a life of being united with Him.  Maybe, just maybe, He will bring something good out of something that was so bad for everyone.

Ultimately, I blame no one but myself for what happened.  Everyone, I imagine, just tried to do the best they could in cleaning up the mess I made.

If only I had turned back when the Hound of Heaven repeatedly called me to "come home."  If only I had turned to God for the return of salvation's joy.  If only.  But I didn't and I was wrong.  I was wrong, and I am so sorry.

Andy Hornbaker Jr. is pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Englewood.  Jan. 9, 2007 was the last day he used alcohol.