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Assume for a moment that you’re walking along, minding your business, and suddenly your toe catches the edge of a rug or an uneven sidewalk, and down you go. The first thing most people do—before checking to see if their hurt is look around to see if anyone saw them. Discover what an incident like this has to do with our spiritual life in today’s message.
In the scenario above, assuming no one notices our stumble, we breathe a sigh of relief. If someone did see us, we offer a sheepish grin, laugh it off, and move on… all while silently wishing the ground would swallow us whole. Let’s face it, everyone stumbles.
It’s strange, really, how stumbling makes us feel exposed—even though it’s one of the most common human experiences. At some point in childhood, we learned that if someone else trips, it’s okay—even funny. Kids instinctively laugh when their friends fall, not to be cruel, but because there’s something humorous about a sudden loss of balance. That is, until they realize the other person is actually hurt. Then the laughter stops.
But when it comes to spiritual stumbling, the stakes feel higher, and the embarrassment runs deeper.
Christians often use the word “stumble” as a gentler way to admit falling into sin. You’ll hear phrases like, “I stumbled again last night,” or “I had a rough week—I stumbled.” It softens the blow of confessing a deeper struggle. When we stumble spiritually, it’s not just our pride that’s bruised—it’s our relationship with God and others that’s damaged. This is why the principle of confession is so vital across the Christian faith. It is a powerful step toward healing. The principle of confessing our sins, of acknowledging our failures before God and others, is a core universal truth. Bringing our failures into the light is the first step toward freedom. Whether we confess directly to God in prayer, to a priest, to a pastor, or to a trusted fellow believer as the Letter of James encourages, the act of admitting our stumble opens the door for a personal encounter with God’s forgiving love, restoring our relationship with Him and with the community of believers.
The Bible speaks honestly about stumbling. Psalm 38:17 says, “I am very near to falling, and my wounds are with me always.” The prophet Isaiah reminds us, “All of us have become like unclean people, all our good deeds are like polluted rags; we have all withered like leaves, and our guilt carries us away like the wind” (Isaiah 64:5–6). Scripture doesn’t sugarcoat it. We all stumble. We all fall short of the glory of God –but that’s not the end of the story.
The prophet Micah said, “Do not rejoice over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will arise; though I sit in darkness, the Lord is my light” (Micah 7:8). There is power in that declaration. Even in our most embarrassing spiritual moments, when the guilt is heavy and the shame is thick, God is already looking to lift us up. When we do stumble, God doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t point. He doesn’t shame. Instead, He offers a hand. Our stumbles may surprise us—but they don’t surprise Him. He knows our weaknesses and loves us still.
This truth is especially meaningful for anyone walking the road of recovery. Addiction has a cruel way of shaming those who stumble. The enemy whispers, “You’ll never be free. Look at you—you fell again.” But the voice of God says, “Get up, child. I’m not done with you yet.”
There’s no such thing as a perfect walk. Whether we trip physically or spiritually, the important part is not how hard we fell—it’s how we respond afterward.
In John 8, a woman caught in adultery was thrown at Jesus’ feet. The Pharisees saw her stumble as a chance to condemn. Jesus saw it as a moment for mercy. “Has no one condemned you?” He asked. “Then neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore” (John 8:10–11). Jesus never dismissed her sin, but He refused to shame her. That’s grace.
So maybe we need to be a little more honest about our stumbles—and a little less judgmental of others. If we laughed at a child falling and getting hurt, we’d be seen as cruel. But how often do we silently judge someone else’s moral stumble? How often do we hide our own, afraid of being seen as weak or less holy?
The Church should always be the safest place to stumble. After all, we follow a Savior who fell three times under the weight of the Cross—and still rose to save the world.
So, the next time we stumble—and we will—we cannot let embarrassment keep us down. We can’t let shame win. We should reach for the outstretched hand of Christ and rise again.
Heavenly Father, unfortunately I stumble far too often. When I do stumble, please give me the courage to admit it. Grant me the grace to get up and keep going. Help me always to turn to the mercy of Your Son. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen!
AMDG
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Please take a moment to share your thoughts about today’s message below.
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This is a powerful and fitting 12-Step meditation—especially step 10.
Being at the Convocation at Stonehill on Saturday was a very rewarding experience for both my wife and me! Thank you so much for giving that talk. I certainly have stumbled along the way and need the healing of sharing as you described!
I was in a sharing group but it was not of the atmosphere you described. There was a printed booklet of rules about how and what to share and cross talk or even discussion after someone shared was forbidden. I would love to be able to share your talk from Saturday with them.
Do you have a digital copy of your talk available please?
Thank you for all that you do in retreats and in this weekly feature. You are on a wonderful path in your Fourth Day and I pray for your continued success!
Thanks Brian
This is another 4th Day that I need to print out and hang on the refrigerator. Thanks for doing this
Tom
I am glad you found it helpful. Thanks for posting.
Brian