There have been so many times when I knew I should share something that was placed on my heart, but I decided not to because I could immediately think of several ways that I had failed to live it out myself.

Who am I to tell my children not to make certain choices when I made some of those same choices myself?

Who am I to talk about discipline when I know how easily I become distracted?

Who am I to talk about being present with the people I love when I know there have been seasons when the busyness of life has pulled my attention somewhere else?

And maybe the hardest question of all is this one.

Who am I to talk about following Christ when I know how much work I still have to do in my own walk with Him?

There are times when I can convince myself that sharing something I have not perfectly lived out would make me a hypocrite. If I am going to encourage someone in something, surely I should have figured it out myself first.

But I am learning there is an important difference between hypocrisy and inconsistency.

In 1 Corinthians 9:24 to 27, Paul writes about running with purpose. He describes disciplining himself like an athlete because he does not want to spend his life preaching something to others while failing to pursue it himself.

For a long time, I heard those words mostly as a warning. Lately, though, I hear something else in them.

Paul was still running.

He was not standing at the finish line telling everyone else how to get there. He was still training. Still disciplining himself. Still wrestling with his own humanity while encouraging others to keep moving forward.

That has been freeing for me in this season of life.

Hypocrisy is not simply failing to perfectly live out everything I believe. Hypocrisy would be pretending I have arrived when I know I have not, or expecting something from someone else that I have no intention of pursuing myself.

That is very different from saying, “I believe this is true, and I am still learning how to live it every day.”

A few years ago, I was asked if I would be willing to visit with a group of kids and share some of my story.

At the time, I was in a bit of a low spot in my relationship with one of our sons. It was not a season that lasted very long, but in that moment it felt significant enough to make me question what I could possibly offer.

Who was I to talk to someone else’s children when I could not even seem to get my relationship with my own son right?

So I allowed that thought to disqualify me.

Looking back, what bothers me most is not simply that I passed on the opportunity. It is that I allowed the question of whether I felt qualified to become more important than whether God may have simply been asking me to be obedient.

Maybe those kids would have benefited from something in my story. Maybe they would not have. I will never know.

But I do know that I allowed one difficult area of my life to convince me that I had nothing useful to offer anywhere else.

I do not want to keep doing that.

The truth is, there are plenty of things in my life someone could point to. There are moments I would handle differently. There are seasons when I was not the husband, father, leader, friend, or follower of Christ that I wanted to be.

I cannot change those moments. But I also do not believe they have to permanently disqualify me.

If I am honestly trying to live today in a way that supports what I am saying, then some of the very things I once wished I could erase may actually help me understand someone else more deeply.

The lessons we learn through failure can become wisdom. The pain we have caused can teach us compassion. The places where we lost our way can help us recognize when someone else is beginning to lose theirs.

That doesn’t mean the past no longer matters. Sometimes our choices create consequences. Sometimes trust takes time to rebuild. Sometimes we have to own things we would rather forget, but ownership is not the same thing as permanent disqualification.

I also think that part of the fear comes from knowing someone else may notice our inconsistency too.

Someone may remember a mistake, a poor decision, or a season when our life didn’t match the words we are sharing today and use that as a reason to dismiss what we have to say.

That can hurt. It hurts even more when it comes from someone we love.

I know that I can write something on Sunday morning and find myself struggling to live those same words by Tuesday afternoon.

Someone may notice. Someone may even call me out on it. And sometimes there may be something in that correction that I need to hear.

Maybe God uses those moments to show me where my life needs to come back into alignment with what I say I believe.

That does not mean I need to stop sharing or writing. It means I need to keep listening. Keep growing. Keep allowing the words I share to work on me too.

Maybe my responsibility is not to prove that I have mastered everything God has placed on my heart. Maybe my responsibility is simply to keep running. To keep returning. To keep noticing when I have allowed the noise of this world to separate me from the man I know God is shaping me to become.

And when He teaches me something along the way, maybe obedience means being willing to share it even when the lesson is still working on me. I have a lot of work to do. I hope and pray I always realize that.

But I do not want my imperfections to become an excuse for disobedience or disconnection.

Sometimes the very thing someone could use to question my relevance may be the thing God uses to help me connect with someone who is struggling where I once struggled.

Sometimes we speak from our wins. Sometimes we speak from our scars. And sometimes we simply share what we are learning while we are still right in the middle of the struggle.

There is humility in being able to say, “I do not have this figured out, but I know it matters.”

That is not hypocrisy. That is being human.

I don’t believe that faithfulness is reaching some point where I no longer struggle. Maybe faithfulness is just continuing to run toward the person that God is calling me to become, while remaining honest enough to admit that I am still struggling to run at times.

Practice to Cultivate

Think about something you have been hesitant to do because you have not lived it perfectly yourself.

Instead of asking, “Have I mastered this enough to speak about it?” ask a different question: “Am I honestly trying to live today in a way that supports what I am saying?”

Then ask one more.

“Am I allowing my imperfections to keep me from something God may simply be asking me to do?”

Own what needs to be owned. Listen when someone points out an inconsistency. Make changes where changes need to be made. But do not automatically assume that your failures have eliminated your ability to help someone else.

This week, share one lesson you are still learning with someone who might need it.

Not as someone who has “arrived,” but simply as someone who is still running too.

‘Well Rooted’ is written by Jeremy Elliott. Elliott owns a lawncare business and lives in the Great Bend area.