Even Pit Bulls Make Mistakes

I am like any other woman out there—I hate being wrong.

That's probably true of many men, too. But being a woman, I will often be emotionally passionate about completely irrational things even when the evidence is glaring me in the face.

After many marital tiffs with me, my husband has affectionately dubbed me "the mule." Or "the pit-bull," depending on how annoyed he is with me.

However, my work ethic can't be the same as my relationship with my husband. In the workplace, I'm held responsible to my boss, and his boss, and his boss. And unfortunately, the secular workplace is not as forgiving as my husband.

As a biologist researcher, I often tested particular theories. I knew the outcome of these tests would determine what the research would target next.

Each study had very little margin for error. Even one small mistake—a touch to a contaminated surface, a wrongly attached cover, a miscalculated cell count—could cost me the previous week's worth of work, and the company thousands of dollars. All with one small mistake.

I am not perfect. I will only see perfection in heaven. And I hated it when I made mistakes on important studies because it made me look like an idiot. It also got me in major trouble with my boss. I have a tendency to want everyone to like me and think well of me, and mistakes on a study never exactly fostered goodwill.

There were times I could have covered up a mistake. I worked independently, so I could have started a new study with no one the wiser. I could have said the cells hadn't grown quickly enough, or the seeding vessels had gotten contaminated so I had to start from scratch.

But God knows about all these little things we could do to make ourselves look better. I think he had me in mind when he said in Psalm 139: "Even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You."

God would know, even if my boss didn't. And really, God's infinitely scarier.

I'd have to face consequences—a bad year-end work review, or a strained working relationship for a few weeks. But there really was a sense of satisfaction in knowing I did the right thing, despite all that happened as a result. God always came through for me with a success—whether at work, or at home, or in my extracurricular activities—some way to show he was proud of me for doing the right thing.

I still hate being wrong. I still hate admitting my mistakes. But I love being my Father's daughter more.