We Were Wrong—But We Were Growing

When you look back over life you will realize how much you have grown and changed?

I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now. John 16:12

That verse says it all. We can't take in the whole truth at once. We like to think we can—but we're not built for that kind of weight all at once. And when we look back, it's clear: we were wrong about a lot. And realizing that hits deep.

We thought we were doing right. We did what we were taught, what our families lived, what our friends reinforced, what our culture approved, what seemed normal. We weren't trying to be blind or hard-hearted. But we missed it.

Science missed it, too. So did religion. So did society. People accepted slavery. Women were barred from voting. Racism was seen as acceptable, even encouraged. Kids were disciplined with cruelty and called "stronger for it." Doctors drained blood, thinking it would heal people. These things were normal. But they weren't right.

And that's the tension—we were wrong but didn't know it.

We thought we had the full picture, but it was just a sliver, a shadow, a puzzle piece. And still, we built whole belief systems on it. That's not just history—it's personal. It's our own stories. We followed what seemed true. We trusted voices that sounded certain. And in the process, we got some things painfully wrong.

But here's the thing: the learning process is slow on purpose. Truth isn't just information—it's transformation, and transformation takes time. You don't grow by flipping a switch. You grow step by step. Truth reveals itself in stages because that's all we can carry.

That's why we have to be patient with ourselves—not soft, not dismissive, but patient. It doesn't help to wallow in guilt. Shame doesn't produce growth—honesty does. And humility—owning where we've been wrong without letting it paralyze us.

This applies to faith, too. We followed teachings that made sense at the time and listened to leaders we trusted. But part of growing is realizing some of them were wrong or incomplete. That doesn't mean the journey was wasted. It means we're waking up.

Some people accepted things that were never right—slavery, racism, misogyny, abuse—and they did it because the crowd said it was okay. That's sobering. But it's also a reminder: just because something is accepted doesn't mean it's right.

Truth doesn't rush. It unfolds. And every time we see a little more clearly, we're invited to walk a little further in the light.

We were wrong, yes. But we're learning, growing, and on the right road now. And that's what matters. Keep going, keep learning, and let truth do its work.

But here's something worth asking—really asking: Are you growing in grace? Are you learning more about the Lord Jesus and God the Father, or are you just accepting what others say? Are you letting the Spirit teach you, or just echoing what you've been told? The real question is: Do you know God? Not just know about Him—do you know Him? Because eternal life isn't about checking the right boxes or following the crowd. Eternal life is knowing the Father and the Son He sent. That's it. That's the core. Do you realize that God the Father loves you like He loves the Son? That He brought you into that love, not because you earned it, but because that's who He is? That truth changes everything. But you've got to see it for yourself.

---

"Step by Step: The Weight of Truth"

We thought we saw the whole, but held a shard,
Built castles out of shadows in the dark.
With steady hands, we etched what we believed,
Not knowing how much more we’d yet receive.

We thought we knew—because they told us so:
The teachers, preachers, culture, status quo.
We followed, trusted, echoed every line,
Unknowing what was broken by design.

We weren’t cruel. We meant well, tried to do
The right we saw—but what we saw was skewed.
We called it wisdom, discipline, and light,
And only later learned it wasn’t right.

They said the earth stood still—it spun instead.
They drained the blood while hope and healing bled.
They said that strength was forged in fear and pain,
But broke the soul and passed down silent shame.

They said that race made one man less than man,
That chains and laws could fit God’s holy plan.
They clothed oppression in religious dress—
And somehow called it truth and righteousness.

But truth is not a flood that drowns the soul,
It’s light that warms and slowly makes us whole.
It doesn’t crash—it whispers, gently speaks,
It walks with us through decades, years, and weeks.

We can’t bear all at once—He knew we’d fall.
So truth comes slowly, not to crush, but call.
Each step reveals another piece of grace,
Another glimpse of God’s unshifting face.

And still He speaks—not all at once, but still.
And still He waits—so patient with our will.
The Spirit guides, not shames us for the past,
But leads us to the real and true that lasts.

So are you growing? Learning? Hearing still?
Or clinging to the voices, loud and shrill?
Do you know God—or just know how to quote?
Have you dived deep, or merely learned to float?

Eternal life is not a set of facts—
It’s knowing Him. That’s all. No second acts.
Not rules. Not crowds. Not creeds or flawless views—
But knowing Him, and being known as true.

He loves you—not because you got it right,
But simply for you are His Son’s delight.
The love that binds the Father to the Son
Now wraps around you too—you're not undone.

We were wrong, yes. But grace was never blind.
It saw us in the dark, yet still was kind.
And now we walk in light we couldn’t see—
Because the truth is setting us more free.

So walk. Don’t rush. Be humble, not ashamed.
You’re on the road, and Jesus knows your name.
And though there’s more—so much we can’t yet bear—
He walks beside, and gently brings us there.