By Scott Sauls
Regret from the past dies hard for us. The one whom the Bible calls “the accuser” throws it in our faces, keeping memories about the worst things we’ve done so alive that in our minds, they start to define us.
“I said something mean” becomes “I am mean.”
“I did something ugly” becomes “I am ugly.”
“I made a big mistake” becomes “I am a big mistake.”
Guilt (the regrettable things we have done) can so easily turn into toxic shame (the regrettable worms that we are) as we appraise our own worth. The interplay between guilt and toxic shame becomes, for some of us, a distinction without a difference.
Whenever toxic shame gains a foothold, things like grace, forgiveness, and new mercies leak out of us like water passing through a drain hole. It’s almost as if we’re hardwired for self-loathing, trapped in its grip like a tired, demoralized, wing-clipped eagle stuck in a birdcage.
One of the main reasons why I wrote Beautiful People Don’t Just Happen is to help people stuck in the birdcage get their wings and freedom back. There is a bright blue sky of forgiveness and grace for demoralized, defeated souls. The air space is unlimited and free. Freedom is what God wants for us. Even as I write this, I pray that the ugly things from your past would lose their grip on you. I pray that you will come to understand that even though the ugly things are part of your story, they don’t define you. I pray also that the eyes of your heart will be opened to receive the grace that is greater than the very worst thing about you. You couldn’t escape it if you tried because as sure as his tomb is empty, the goodness and mercy of Christ will follow you all the days of your life. (See Psalm 23:6.)
Regret is not the only thing that has had me trapped in the birdcage. If you have read my other writings or listened to my sermons, you may recall that I have experienced depression from time to time. I have had other hurts also. I have buried a few family members and lost some friends to suicide. I have been immobilized by hypochondria and chronic sickness, diminished by insomnia and fatigue, discouraged and made lonely by rejection, aggrieved by loss and death, humiliated by gossip and slander, demoralized by fear and failure, and traumatized by abuse from my childhood. Being a deeply flawed and sinful man, I have also brought some hurt on myself and others. I know the wearying effects of holding a grudge, living in denial, nursing toxic shame, and injuring people that I love.
Although I am familiar with pain, I have never contemplated self-harm. But there have been times when I told God that I had nothing left to give and would be fine if he took me Home. In hindsight, I’m very glad that he chose not to do this, because the darker and sadder seasons of life have served, ever so reliably and consistently, to expand my belief in and experience of the goodness of God. Through pain and sorrow, I have been tutored in the counterintuitive nature of his ways. I have learned that the greatest strength comes through the avenue of weakness, the greatest wisdom through the avenue of disorientation, the greatest joy through the avenue of sorrow, and the greatest worship through the avenue of doubt.
As Melville said bluntly, “Heaven have mercy on us all—Presbyterians and Pagans alike—for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.”
And mend the cracks in us, Jesus does.
If these ideas feel foreign or bothersome to you, I hope they will start to feel more familiar and welcomed as you work your way through these pages. I believe that God wants to do this work in you as you seek from him a wisdom that is higher than your own, and a peace that transcends human understanding. Growing in the ways of God to become a more complete version of yourself is a lot like making a long-term commitment to physical fitness. The path toward becoming spiritually strong works a lot like good nutrition and exercise do.
When you first start working with a trainer at the gym, her command that you do 25 pushups before quitting can feel like too much. With each subsequent pushup on that first day, you feel like you are getting weaker. But the truth is—and the trainer knows this—you are getting stronger. If you keep coming back and submitting to the discomfort, you will soon be able to do 25 pushups with ease, then later 50, 75, 100.
The human soul under the disciplined regimen of God works like muscles do under the disciplined regimen of a trainer. The more the soul is worked and stretched to its limits, the more able it becomes to endure suffering and enjoy God all at once. When this happens in us, we become the best kind of dangerous. The more we get pushed, the more pushing we can do, and the more able we become to show up for others in their toil and tribulation. When God’s children start showing up for each other, the accuser starts to tremble.
God assigns purpose and meaning to the hurt we feel, even when we can’t see his hand clearly. His approach is never punitive and always instructive, even surgical. As a self-proclaimed physician for the mending of body and soul, our Lord never stabs his children as with a sword. Instead, he only cuts us, ever so carefully, as with a scalpel. He wounds us sometimes, but always and only to heal us. “In your struggle . . . endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children . . . God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” (Hebrews 12:4–11)
The first time I heard these verses from Hebrews was when an older Christian man introduced me to them after someone broke my heart. I was upset with him for choosing these verses. I didn’t want to hear that my pain had a mysterious purpose, much less that God was somehow behind it. Looking back, I realize now how shortsighted I was for being upset. I would later discover that these were the perfect and truest words for the season, and they have been for many seasons since. Sometimes we can’t see the truth about God and ourselves until we see it in a rearview mirror.
Whatever hurt you may have faced or are facing now, I hope that Beautiful People Don’t Just Happen will help you avoid wormholes like cynicism and despair, and instead discover—as the apostle Paul did even from a hot, filthy prison cell—what he famously called “the secret of contentment.” This secret, he tells us, is something that he had to learn, in the same way that Jesus learned obedience through the things that he suffered. Paul’s secret did not come home to him naturally, but supernaturally. When it did, he found contentment and even joy in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of gain and in times of loss, in times of happiness and in times of hurt. “I can do all things,” Paul wrote, “through [Christ] who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:10–13)
I want you to know Christ as Paul did, and as I am learning to know him also. Beautiful People Don’t Just Happen is written, in part, to assist you in this. As you read it, I pray that the secret of contentment in times of want, loss, and other things that hurt will become less of a secret and more of a familiar friend for you, just as it has become for me through the years.
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Adapted from Beautiful People Don’t Just Happen: How God Redeems Regret, Hurt, and Fear in the Making of Better Humans by Scott Sauls. Click here to learn more about this book.
Find the freedom from regret, hurt, and fear that God wants for you while discovering joy, relief, and hope as you become the beautiful human he created you to be.
We all carry regret, hurt, and fear. These are burdens that weigh us down and make us feel trapped.
In 25 years of pastoral ministry, Scott Sauls has come alongside countless individuals and communities through weary seasons and circumstances. From his own seasons of regret, hurt, and fear—including battles with anxiety and depression—he knows what it’s like to be unfinished and on the mend under Jesus’ merciful, mighty healing hand.
Beautiful People Don’t Just Happen reads like a field guide that can help you:
- Find hope in how God is drawn toward you, not appalled by you, in your sin and sorrow.
- Practice emotional health with joy, gratitude, and lament.
- Quiet shaming, wearying thoughts with God’s divine counter-voice.
- Discover how the defining feeling of faith is not strength but dependent weakness.
- Learn what the Bible calls “the secret of being content” in every circumstance.
Dare to embrace the contentment, hope, and fullness God wants for you—offered to all who will receive it.
Scott Sauls is senior pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville, Tennessee, and author of Jesus Outside the Lines, Befriend, From Weakness to Strength, Irresistible Faith, and A Gentle Answer. Scott also served at New York City’s Redeemer Presbyterian Church as a lead and preaching pastor and planted two churches in the Midwest. His work has been featured in publications including Christianity Today, Relevant, Qideas, Propel Women, He Reads Truth, Leadership Magazine, The Gospel Coalition, Table Talk, and Made to Flourish. Scott writes weekly at scottsauls.com.
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