The pastor asked Ebuka after the Sunday service, as people were stacking chairs. “Brother Ebuka, the youth fellowship needs a new treasurer. The young people trust you. Pray about it and let me know by Friday.”
Ebuka smiled and said he would pray. Then he walked to the bus stop on Ikorodu Road feeling as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him.
Seven years earlier, Ebuka had been a different man. From the age of nineteen he had spent most of his nights in a rented room in Benin City with three laptops and a group of friends, running romance scams on lonely men and women overseas. They called it “work.” He was good at it. He had a car before he was twenty-two and more money than his father had seen in a decade. Then, at twenty-four, a friend dragged him to a campus fellowship meeting, and the gospel took hold of him in a way he still cannot fully explain. He walked away from the room in Benin. He sold the car and gave the money to a charity. He tracked down the one person he had defrauded in Nigeria, a businessman in Onitsha, and repaid him with interest from his first honest salaries. Today he works in IT support for a logistics firm in Ikeja. He has been baptised. He teaches a Bible study for young men.
That evening, as he sat on the bus, a WhatsApp message arrived from a number he had not seen in years. It was one of the old crew. Someone had posted a picture of Ebuka leading worship. Omo, na you be this? Pastor Ebuka! Make dem no give you church money o. We know you. Three laughing emojis.
By the time he got home, the voice inside his head had taken over completely. You are a fraudster. That is who you are. You can sing in the choir and teach young men, but put money in your hands and everyone will see what you really are. Who do you think you are fooling? He opened his phone and began typing a message to the pastor. Sir, thank you for thinking of me, but I am not the right person for this.
He was telling the truth about his past. The question was whether his past was telling the truth about him.
How the past speaks
The past rarely speaks as a memory. If it simply said, “Seven years ago you defrauded people,” that would be a fact, and a fact can be faced. The past speaks far more often as a label. It says, “You are a fraudster.” “You are a liar.” “You are the woman who had the abortion.” “You are the man whose marriage failed.” “You are the pastor who fell.” It takes something you did and turns it into what you are.
That is the move to watch for. A failure is an event. An identity claim takes that event and stretches it across your whole life, past, present and future. It says that what you did is the deepest truth about you, and that every decision you make from now on must be made in its shadow.
Sometimes the voice is inside your own head. Sometimes it comes through other people, like the old friend on WhatsApp, or the relative who brings it up at every family gathering, or the church member who still introduces you with a raised eyebrow. And sometimes, Scripture tells us, it comes from the enemy of our souls, who is called “the accuser of our brethren” and who “accused them before our God day and night” (Revelation 12:10). His accusations are often built on true facts. That is what makes them so convincing. But he uses those facts to reach a false verdict.
Paul gives us a sentence that draws exactly the line we need. After listing many kinds of serious sin, he says to the Corinthian believers, “And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God” (1 Corinthians 6:11). Such were some of you. Past tense. Paul does not deny what they had been. He states it plainly. But he refuses to let it remain the present definition of who they are. They were those things. They are now washed, sanctified and justified.
The whole of this teaching rests on that difference between were and are.
Seest thou this woman?
Luke tells the story of a dinner at the house of a Pharisee named Simon. While Jesus was reclining at the table, a woman came in uninvited. Luke describes her simply as “a woman in the city, which was a sinner” (Luke 7:37). Everyone in the room knew who she was. She stood behind Jesus, weeping, washing His feet with her tears, wiping them with her hair, kissing them and anointing them with ointment.
Simon was horrified, though he said nothing aloud. He thought to himself that if Jesus were really a prophet, He would know “who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner” (Luke 7:39). Notice the present tense in Simon’s mind. She is a sinner. For Simon, her past was her identity, permanently.
Jesus answered Simon’s thoughts:
And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven.
“Seest thou this woman?” It is a pointed question. Simon had been looking at her the whole evening, but he had not really seen her. He had seen her reputation. He had seen the label the city had given her. Jesus asks him to look again.
Then notice what Jesus does with her past. He does not pretend it away. “Her sins, which are many.” Jesus is honest. Her sins were real, and they were many. But in the same breath He says, “are forgiven.” And then He turns to the woman herself and speaks directly to her: “Thy sins are forgiven.” A few verses later He sends her away with a word of peace: “Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace” (Luke 7:50).
Simon saw a sinner. Jesus saw a forgiven woman who loved much. Both of them knew her history. Only one of them let her history have the final word.
When your past keeps speaking, it speaks with Simon’s voice: she is a sinner, he is a fraudster, that is what manner of person this is. But Jesus has spoken another word over you. He sees your history fully, more fully than anyone. And He says, “Thy sins are forgiven. Go in peace.”
Knowing no one after the flesh
Paul makes a remarkable statement in 2 Corinthians about how believers should see people, including themselves:
Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh: yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more. Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation; To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God. For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.
Start with verse 16: “Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh.” To know someone after the flesh is to assess them by merely human standards: their background, their record, their status, their failures. Paul admits that he once assessed even Christ that way. Before his conversion, he looked at Jesus of Nazareth and saw a crucified false Messiah. Now he sees Him completely differently. And he says that from now on he will not evaluate anyone that way.
Why? Verse 17 gives the reason: “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” The Greek can be read even more strongly: if anyone is in Christ, new creation! Something has happened that is as fundamental as God’s work in Genesis 1. A new reality has come into being, and the person in Christ belongs to it.
Notice that the phrase is in Christ. That is the foundation of your identity. You are not first a collection of things you have done. You are a person who has been placed into Christ by God’s grace. Paul says elsewhere, “For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3). Your life, your real identity, is located in Him. It is hidden with Him. And what is hidden in Christ cannot be reached by the voice of your past.
Then look at how God accomplished this. “God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them.” God has chosen not to count your trespasses against you. He has not forgotten them in the sense of losing the information. He has decided not to put them on your account. Why? Verse 21: “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” Your trespasses were put on Christ’s account. His righteousness was put on yours.
So when the voice says, “You are a fraudster,” you can answer with Paul: “I am in Christ. I am a new creation. My trespasses have not been imputed to me. I have been made the righteousness of God in Him.” That answer takes your history seriously, and it tells you where your history was dealt with.
And notice where the passage goes next. Those who have been reconciled are given “the ministry of reconciliation.” Ebuka, the former fraudster, has been made an ambassador for Christ. The past that wants to disqualify him is precisely the past that grace has turned into a testimony.
No condemnation
Paul’s great declaration in Romans 8 speaks directly to the person whose past keeps passing sentence:
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh: That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” The word condemnation is a legal term. It refers to the verdict and the sentence that follows it. Paul is saying that for those in Christ, there is no sentence left to be served. The case is closed.
How can that be, when the wrongs were real? Verse 3 explains: God sent His own Son “in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh.” Sin was condemned. The sentence was passed and carried out, in the body of Christ on the cross. Your past failures have already been judged. They were judged in Him.
That is why your past has no authority to pass sentence on you again. When it speaks, it speaks as though the trial were still going on. It presents the evidence again and demands a verdict. But the verdict has already been given, and the sentence has already been served by Another. Double jeopardy is not permitted in God’s court. A case that has been settled at the cross cannot be reopened by your memory or by the accuser.
PunchlineNotice too the word now. “There is therefore now no condemnation.” Not when you have proved yourself for a few more years. Not when everyone has stopped mentioning it. Now.
And notice the freedom that follows: “For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.” The Spirit of life is at work in you. Beyond cancelling a debt, He is producing a new life, so that “the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us.” Freedom from condemnation is freedom to walk in a new life.
Your failures were real, and they were judged. They were judged in Christ, at the cross, and a case settled there cannot be reopened by your memory or your accuser.
The chief of sinners
If anyone in the New Testament had a past that kept speaking, it was Paul. Writing to Timothy near the end of his life, he looked back on it with great honesty:
And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry; Who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious: but I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief. And the grace of our Lord was exceeding abundant with faith and love which is in Christ Jesus. This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief. Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might shew forth all longsuffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting.
Look at how Paul describes himself before Christ: “a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious.” The word injurious means violent, insolent, someone who treats others with contempt and harms them. Paul does not soften it. He had hunted down Christians, imprisoned them and approved their executions.
He even says in verse 15, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.” Notice the present tense: I am chief. Some have read this as Paul still defining himself by his past. But look at the surrounding words. Paul is overflowing with thanks: “I thank Christ Jesus our Lord.” He speaks of grace that was “exceeding abundant.” He calls himself chief of sinners in the same breath as he rejoices that Christ came to save sinners. His humility about the past is held inside a joyful certainty about his present.
And look at verse 12: Christ “counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.” The very man who had destroyed the church was trusted to build it. Christ did not merely forgive Paul and leave him on the margins. He gave him a stewardship. The past did not disqualify him.
Then verse 16 gives the reason: “Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might shew forth all longsuffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him.” The word pattern means an outline or a model, the kind of sketch an artist makes to show what the finished work will look like. Paul’s life became a demonstration of how patient and how merciful Christ is. Every believer who has ever looked at their own past and thought, surely not me, can look at Paul and see the pattern.
NuggetSo Paul’s past did keep speaking. But it no longer spoke as an accuser. It spoke as a witness to grace.
Owning the past without obeying it
Here we need to be careful, because there are two opposite mistakes we can make.
The first mistake is to let the past keep authority over every present decision. That was Ebuka’s temptation on the bus. Because he had defrauded people, he concluded that he must never handle money, never lead, never be trusted, never hope for more than the margins. His past had become the governor of his future.
The second mistake is to pretend the past never happened. Some believers misunderstand forgiveness to mean that their history is now irrelevant, that nobody may ever mention it, and that any caution others show is a failure of grace. That is not what forgiveness means. Paul never pretended. He spoke about his past openly. He owned it.
The biblical path lies between the two. Forgiveness allows you to own your past truthfully, without letting it rule you. You can say, without shame and without excuse, “Yes, I did that. It was wrong, and it hurt people.” That is truthful ownership. What you do not have to say is, “Therefore that is who I am, and therefore I must decide everything in the light of it.” That would be giving the past an authority that Christ has taken away.
Truthful ownership sometimes involves accepting consequences. Forgiveness from God does not always mean that every door reopens immediately among people. Trust that was broken may need to be rebuilt over time. And in some cases, wisdom and safeguarding require permanent limits. A person who has abused children may be fully forgiven by God and still must never again be placed in a position of responsibility for children. That is not a failure of grace. It is love for the vulnerable, and a genuinely repentant person will accept it willingly.
There is wisdom, too, about who needs to know. You do not have to tell your whole history to everyone you meet. But you must not lie about it, and those who carry responsibility for you, such as a pastor or a spouse, should know what they need to know. Hiding the past gives it power. Bringing it into the light, to the right people, removes much of its ability to frighten you.
In Ebuka’s case, his past does not disqualify him from being treasurer. But it may wisely shape how he serves: with transparency, with accountability, with two signatories and open records. His history can inform his safeguards without defining his identity. That is the difference between owning the past and obeying it.
Unprofitable then, profitable now
Paul’s shortest letter is a personal note to a believer named Philemon about a runaway slave called Onesimus. Onesimus had fled from Philemon’s household, possibly having stolen from him. Somewhere along the way he met Paul in prison and came to Christ. Now Paul was sending him back:
I beseech thee for my son Onesimus, whom I have begotten in my bonds: Which in time past was to thee unprofitable, but now profitable to thee and to me: Whom I have sent again: thou therefore receive him, that is, mine own bowels.
There is a play on words in verse 11 that the first readers would have caught immediately. The name Onesimus means “useful” or “profitable.” Paul says that in time past he was unprofitable, failing to live up to his name, and now he is profitable, both to Philemon and to Paul. The past is named honestly. Onesimus had been useless, and worse. But the past is not the present.
Then Paul does something remarkable. He writes, “If he hath wronged thee, or oweth thee ought, put that on mine account” (Philemon 1:18). Paul does not ask Philemon to pretend that no wrong was done. He acknowledges that there may be a debt. And he offers to pay it himself. It is a beautiful picture of what Christ has done for us: our debt placed on His account, so that we can be received as brothers.
This short letter also shows us how the church should treat people with a past. Philemon is asked to receive Onesimus “as myself,” as Paul would be received. The church is not to keep reminding the forgiven person of who they used to be. Think of Barnabas in Acts 9. When Saul first came to Jerusalem after his conversion, the disciples “were all afraid of him, and believed not that he was a disciple” (Acts 9:26). Their fear was understandable. Saul had been their persecutor. But Barnabas took him, brought him to the apostles and told them his story. Barnabas put his own reputation behind a man with a terrible past.
Every church needs people like Barnabas. If you know a brother or sister whose past keeps speaking, your voice can be part of how they learn to hear a different word. Do not know them after the flesh. Know them in Christ.
Answering the voice
So what do you do when your past keeps speaking? Let me suggest a few things.
Learn to tell the difference between conviction and accusation. The Holy Spirit convicts of sin, but His conviction is specific, it concerns something present, and it leads you toward Christ and toward putting things right. Accusation is usually vague, global and backward-looking. It says, “You are worthless,” rather than, “That word you spoke this morning was unkind; go and apologise.” Conviction draws you to the cross. Accusation drives you away from it. If the voice is reopening a case Christ has already closed, it is not the Spirit.
Answer identity claims with identity truths. When the past says, “You are a fraudster,” reply from Scripture: “Such were some of you: but ye are washed.” When it says, “You are condemned,” reply: “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” When your own heart condemns you, remember John’s words: “For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things” (1 John 3:20). God knows all things, including everything in your history, and He has still declared you righteous in Christ.
Make present decisions from your present identity. When you face a decision, about a relationship, a ministry, a job or a step of faith, ask what a forgiven child of God would do with the wisdom available. Do not ask what your past would allow. Let wisdom, Scripture and godly counsel shape the decision, including any appropriate safeguards your history suggests. But do not let shame make the decision for you.
And bring it into the light with someone you trust. Many people carry their past alone, and in the dark it grows larger. A pastor, a mature friend or a counsellor can help you hear the truth more clearly than you can hear it on your own. If your past includes trauma, or if your memories are accompanied by persistent depression or anxiety, professional help is a wise and godly step.
Ebuka did not send the message declining the role. He deleted it, sat with his Bible on his bed and read 2 Corinthians 5 three times. Henceforth know we no man after the flesh. He realised that he had been knowing himself after the flesh for seven years.
On Wednesday he went to see the pastor. He had prepared a speech. “Sir, before you make me treasurer, you need to know who I used to be.” He told him everything: the room in Benin, the laptops, the car, the businessman in Onitsha.
The pastor listened, then smiled. “Ebuka, you told me all of this in baptism class. I have known for six years.”
Ebuka stared at him. He had completely forgotten.
Punchline“I still want you to do it,” the pastor said. “What do you think we should do to make it safe?”
Ebuka had already thought about that. He suggested two signatories for every withdrawal, a monthly statement posted to the youth group, and an annual review by someone outside the fellowship. The pastor nodded. “That is what we should do for any treasurer. Thank you for suggesting it.”
On the way home, Ebuka replied to the WhatsApp message. Yes, it is me. I am not that man any more. Jesus changed my life. If you ever want to talk about it, call me. He did not expect an answer.
Four months later, at eleven o’clock one night, his phone rang. It was the same number. “Ebuka,” said a voice he had not heard in years. “That thing you said. About Jesus. Can we talk?”
Your past may keep speaking. Let it speak honestly about what you did. But do not let it tell you who you are. That word belongs to Christ, and He has already spoken it.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- What does your past most often say about you? Is it speaking as a memory (“I did”) or as an identity claim (“I am”)?
- How does the contrast between Simon’s view and Jesus’ view of the woman in Luke 7 challenge the way you see yourself, and others?
- What does it mean to you that there is “now no condemnation” because sin was condemned in Christ’s flesh?
- Where might you be either obeying your past or pretending it never happened? What would truthful ownership without obedience look like?
- Is there someone in your church whose past keeps speaking, for whom you could be a Barnabas?
This Week
Write down the most persistent sentence your past says about you, in the form it usually comes: “You are...” Then, beneath it, write 1 Corinthians 6:11 and Romans 8:1 in full. Each time the sentence returns this week, read the verses aloud. Then identify one present decision you have been avoiding because of your past. Talk it over with a pastor or trusted friend, decide together what wisdom and any appropriate safeguards would look like, and take the first step.
A Prayer
Lord Jesus, You see my whole history more clearly than anyone, and You have still said to me, “Thy sins are forgiven.” Thank You that there is now no condemnation for me because I am in You. Thank You that my sin was judged in Your flesh, and that my life is hid with You in God. Teach me to own my past honestly without letting it rule my present. When the old voice speaks, help me answer with Your word. Make me a new creation in my thinking as I already am in You, and let my life, like Paul’s, become a pattern of Your patience and mercy for others. Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.