It’s Me. I’m the Problem.

(Today’s Lectionary Passages: read here Luke 13:10–17, Isaiah 58:9–14)

Let’s Take the Challenge: “Who’s the Problem?”

Let’s try a little honesty exercise: read the situation, then ask yourself—who’s the problem here? Spoiler: it might be closer than you think. 

Because as Taylor Swift sings in Anti-Hero:
“It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.”

Why does that lyric hit us in the gut? Because it’s easier to see the problem out there than admit the problem is in here. Easier to call out someone else’s hypocrisy than face our own.

The Gospel Scene: A Woman Set Free

Luke paints the picture: Jesus is teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath. A woman bent over for 18 years shuffles in. Jesus sees her, calls her over, touches her, and says:
“Woman, you are set free.”

She stands tall and praises God. Cue applause! Miracle achieved. 

Except—record scratch—the synagogue leader clears his throat:
“There are six other days for healing. Not the Sabbath.”

Jesus doesn’t let that slide. He calls it what it is: hypocrisy.
“You untie your ox on the Sabbath. And you’re mad I untied this daughter of Abraham from 18 years of bondage?”

The leader thought he was protecting holiness. But really? He was blocking healing.

What Hypocrisy Really Looks Like

We think “hypocrite” means fake—pretending to be good while secretly being bad. But in Scripture, hypocrisy is broader:

• Twisted priorities
• Hiding behind rules to avoid curiosity and change
• Valuing being right over being loving

Here’s the kicker: hypocrisy doesn’t just make us look bad. It actually keeps people from being healed.

Finger-Pointing: Our Favorite Sport

Isaiah 58:9 says:
“If you remove the pointing of the finger… then your light shall rise in the darkness.”

The prophet knew our favorite challenge—“They’re the problem! Look at them!”

Shame researcher Brené Brown admits that when she feels overwhelmed, she nitpicks her kids about cereal instead of naming her own anxiety. Sound familiar? We’ve all been there. Criticizing others often serves as a kind of code for: “Please don’t look too closely at me.”

Enneagram Personality Pattern enthusiasts will recognize this pattern—our insecurities wear disguises: power and control, approval and affection, security and survival. By highlighting the problem “over there,” we avoid admitting it exists “in here.”

Cue Taylor again: “It’s me. I’m the problem.”

Loretta Ross and the Calling In Ethic

This is where Professor Loretta Ross author of Calling In: How to Start Making Change with Those You’d Rather Cancel, comes in. In Calling In, she provides a way to cut through hypocrisy and finger-pointing without falling into cancel culture. She says:
“You don’t react with anger or hate. You just remain calm and look at them and say, that’s an interesting viewpoint. Tell me more.” “You’ll lead with love instead of anger and allow somebody else to grow.”

That’s the path Jesus modeled in Luke 13—calling in, not canceling. Healing, not shaming.

Ross also warns:
“When many people have different ideas but move in the same direction, that’s a movement. When many people have the same idea and move in the same direction, that’s a cult.”

The synagogue leader wanted a cult of uniformity. Jesus created a movement of healing.

And let’s be honest: Ross’s critique stings, especially for progressives.
“To be clear, progressives are neither saints nor victims in the cancel wars. We can be politically correct and stunningly ineffective at the same time.” I would add “traditionalists are neither saints nor victims in the cancel wars. You can be traditionally correct and stunningly ineffective at the same time.”

A younger woman I work with recently invited me into her Calling In Book Club. She knows I will listen—and I’ll reframe things . That’s the space I want to live in. Less about being right (orthodoxy) and more about doing right (orthopraxy). Or in layman’s terms: less about perfect beliefs, more about how we actually treat people.

Jesus Heals Anyway

Here’s the good news: hypocrisy doesn’t get the last word. The leader can grumble, the crowd can scowl—but the woman is still standing tall, still free, still praising God.

Isaiah promises: when we stop pointing fingers and start feeding the hungry, lifting the afflicted, honoring Sabbath as joy—then we will be like a watered garden, like a spring that never runs dry.

God’s vision of Sabbath? Not rigidity. Joy. Freedom. Restoration.

An Invitation for Us

So let’s get Honest:

• Where am I the hypocrite?
• Where do I love rules more than people?
• Where do I cancel someone instead of calling them in?
• Where do I block someone’s freedom because of my own beliefs and discomfort?

The good news is: Jesus already knows. And he still calls us over. Still lays hands on us. Still straightens our backs. Still sets us free.

Which means: we don’t have to point fingers anymore. We don’t have to shame others to feel whole. We can stand tall. We can rejoice. We can lead with love.

Honestly

Friends, hypocrisy is easy to spot in others and hard to admit in ourselves. But the Gospel invites us not to say, “Look, they’re the problem”—but to confess with Taylor Swift-level honesty:
“It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem.”

And here’s the miracle: Jesus meets us in that honesty, not with condemnation, but with healing. That’s how hypocrisy loses. That’s how freedom begins. That’s how we become—dare I say—Wholey Honest.

 Honesty doesn’t cancel us —Judgement does.

Join Us Today for the “Whole Summer” Series:
“Wholey Honest: It’s me. I’m the problem.”
10:32 ET in person or online ccmonline.org