Being wrong often is a blessing. Here's why
Most of us hate being wrong. We associate it with failure, embarrassment, and weakness. But the Bible treats being wrong very differently — not as a sign of defeat, but as the starting point of wisdom.
Proverbs reminds us that “the way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice” (Proverbs 12:15). The greatest obstacle to growth is not ignorance; it’s arrogance. The wise person isn’t the one who never errs, but the one humble enough to admit when they do.
That’s what repentance really is — not shame, but reorientation. It’s the courage to turn around when you’ve been sprinting in the wrong direction.
Why admitting wrong feels so hard
It’s uncomfortable to confess error, especially in a culture that prizes certainty and self-assurance. Social media rewards the bold declarer, not the humble learner. We’d rather double down than backtrack, even when we know we’ve missed the mark.
But every time we resist correction, we cut ourselves off from the very wisdom that could save us. Solomon says, “Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but whoever hates correction is stupid” (Proverbs 12:1). Strong words — but necessary ones. Correction, though painful, is one of God’s greatest tools for shaping our hearts.
In spiritual life, humility is not optional. God designed truth to be discovered through community — through counsel, Scripture, prayer, and yes, even rebuke. That’s why repentance, not self-defense, is at the center of the Gospel.
Jesus began His ministry not by saying, “Believe harder,” but “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near” (Matthew 4:17). Repentance is not a punishment for being wrong; it’s the gift of being invited back on course.
The blessing hidden in correction
There’s something almost miraculous that happens when we admit we’ve been wrong. God meets us there — in our humility — with grace.
When King David was confronted by Nathan for his sin, he could have silenced the prophet. Instead, he said, “I have sinned against the Lord” (2 Samuel 12:13). That confession, as painful as it was, became the doorway to restoration.
David’s greatness was not that he never failed, but that he knew how to return.
Likewise, every honest confession is an act of faith — faith that God is more interested in transforming us than condemning us. When we allow ourselves to be corrected, we are essentially saying, “I trust that God’s truth is safer than my pride.”
And in that moment, the Gospel shines most clearly.
Learning to see repentance as a gift
Repentance doesn’t mean self-loathing. It’s not wallowing in guilt or obsessing over our flaws. It’s an act of trust — trusting that God’s mercy is real and sufficient.
Paul said, “God’s kindness leads you to repentance” (Romans 2:4). In other words, God’s correction is never meant to humiliate us; it’s meant to heal us.
Think of repentance as a divine U-turn. It’s God’s way of saying, “You’re going the wrong way — but the right way is still open.”
It’s easy to forget that even the holiest people in Scripture made wrong turns. Peter denied Christ. Moses lost his temper. Jonah ran the opposite direction. Yet in every case, repentance reopened the path to purpose.
Being wrong isn’t the end of your story. It’s often how your next chapter begins.
The spiritual practice of being teachable
If you want to grow in wisdom, practice being teachable. Ask God to help you become unoffendable when corrected.
The writer of Proverbs says, “Reprove a wise man, and he will love you” (Proverbs 9:8). What a countercultural idea — that correction, when received humbly, actually builds love.
The people who grow the most spiritually are not those who are the most knowledgeable but those who are most open. They don’t assume they’ve arrived. They listen, learn, and adjust.
Being teachable doesn’t mean being gullible; it means recognizing that your perspective is limited. Wisdom begins where defensiveness ends.
Repentance is a team sport
Many of us think of repentance as private — something between us and God. But throughout Scripture, repentance was often corporate. Entire cities, nations, and families repented together.
Our faith is communal because sin is communal. The pride that isolates us keeps us from healing together.
When the early church was growing, confession wasn’t a rare event — it was a rhythm. People “confessed their sins to one another” (James 5:16), not to shame each other, but to strengthen one another.
Imagine how much freer the church would be if we stopped pretending perfection and started practicing repentance.
How to embrace being wrong without shame
- Pause before defending yourself. When corrected, your instinct will be to explain. Instead, listen. Ask, “What might God be teaching me here?”
- Remember God’s posture toward you. His correction comes from love, not anger. He’s not out to embarrass you, but to free you.
- Let grace rewrite your story. Being wrong isn’t failure — it’s formation. Every time you admit fault, you make room for grace to do its work.
- Stay in community. Growth happens with others. Let friends, mentors, and Scripture refine you. Lone-wolf spirituality leads to self-deception.
The freedom of humility
The irony of humility is that it doesn’t shrink you; it strengthens you. When you no longer have to be right all the time, you become lighter, freer, and more joyful.
Humility is not self-doubt. It’s self-awareness anchored in God’s confidence. It’s knowing that your worth doesn’t depend on your record of rightness but on Christ’s righteousness.
The freedom of being wrong is that it keeps us close to God. Every time we admit a mistake, we return to dependence. Every time we repent, we rediscover mercy.
That’s what wisdom really is — not knowing everything but knowing who to turn to when you don’t.
A final thought
Our world rewards being right. But Heaven celebrates being humble.
When you allow yourself to be corrected — by Scripture, by God’s Spirit, by trusted community — you’re participating in one of the most beautiful gifts of grace: the gift of being wrong.
Because being wrong doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you teachable. And teachable hearts are the ones God can trust with true wisdom.
Mark Mooreis the author of Wisdom 52 and a teaching pastor at Christ’s Church of the Valley (CCV) in Peoria, Arizona since 2012. Prior to that he was a New Testament Professor at Ozark Christian College in Joplin, Missouri, for two decades, as well as an Adjunct Professor at Haus Edelweiss, Vienna, Austria. His PhD on the Politics of Jesus was earned through the University of Wales. His life passion is to make Jesus famous.
