By Art Toalston, Editor, Baptist Press
I hate typos.
I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.
Working in the media, I’m horrified when I see a typo on our website, especially in something I’ve written or edited.
I’d rather stub my toe.
Typos make me look stupid. They make me drop everything and urgently fix them.
You probably hate something with a passion. Go for it, I’m prone to say.
I hate typos so much that I don’t care if I’m blatantly repetitive: I hate my typos. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.
The other morning, the horror of a typo popped into my prayer time.
And then, to my shame, God helped me to realize something.
I apparently hate typos more than I hate sin.
Yet what can be more tragic than sin? Not only does it make people look stupid, it ruins their lives and, if unchecked, ushers them into hell.
Sin of one sort or another is the primary cause of human misery. It tears families apart.
It leaves teenagers on the verge of a hopeless life. It leaves the elderly in acute fear of death.
It leaves all of us in an inner torment of guilt, regret and brokenness.
Whether it’s self-centeredness, pride, greed, lust, inebriation or a myriad of other sins, the person suffering from sin’s ravages is to be greatly pitied.
He or she needs great compassion.
How could I have been so misguided as to have hated typos more than sin