What Mark McGwire's Confession Can Teach Us About Grace

Last Monday, former baseball slugger Mark McGwire made big news with his confession that he had used performance-enhancing drugs, including steroids, during his career, most notably during that "magical" 1998 season when he broke Roger Maris' record for home runs in a single season. The news of his indiscretion in of itself wasn't all that revelatory - almost all sports fans pretty much assumed that McGwire had taken steroids based on his weak responses when questioned about the practice, punctuated by his embarrassing and disgraceful "I'm not here to talk about the past" testimony in front of a congressional panel five years ago.

People will weigh on all sides of McGwire's confession. Some will salute McGwire for the courage to come clean, notwithstanding his many years of silence until now. Some, including me, will say that the "confession" didn't go far enough, and that McGwire's lame insistence that his steroid-taking had no effect on his home run numbers is laughable. Some will blast it as insincere and insufficient penance for any possible McGwire candidacy to the Baseball Hall of Fame. ESPN columnist Rob Neyer interestingly criticized McGwire's regret of taking steroids in the first place:

There's only one thing about McGwire's statement that bothers me: The part where he says he's sorry and wishes he hadn't done it. I don't mean to read McGwire's mind; perhaps he really is sorry. I just wish that players like McGwire didn't feel compelled to apologize, when we know that many of them would do exactly the same thing again, if they were in the same position. Most of them -- and I don't mean this as an insult -- are sorry about getting caught, but not sorry about doing what they had to do (or thought they had to do) to get healthy or gain a competitive edge.

That might be cynical, but I'd like to believe that McGwire really does regret it all. From all accounts, McGwire is a rather private man and not a glory hound, and never reveled in the fanfare and microscope placed on him during the quest to best Maris' record. I think that if given the choice between a solid slugging career with, let's say, Jay Buhner's numbers with relative anonymity sans steroids versus the hero-worship and subsequent public acrimony that McGwire eventually received with the juice, McGwire would choose the former in a heartbeat.

But what I think is really intriguing is what precipitated the confession in the first place. Why now? The article seems to address this:

McGwire's decision to admit using steroids was prompted by his decision to become hitting coach of the St. Louis Cardinals, his final big league team. Tony La Russa, McGwire's manager in Oakland and St. Louis, has been among McGwire's biggest supporters and thinks returning to the field can restore the former slugger's reputation.

Interestingly, it seemed to be Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa's never-wavering support and recent offer of a batting coach position to McGwire that led to him coming clean. In the past five years, while the rest of baseball fandom and media condemned McGwire as a fraud who deserved to be cast out of the game, it was LaRussa who defended McGwire's character and maintained his innocence.

Maybe McGwire's conscience got the better of him as he watched LaRussa constantly insist that McGwire was clean as others snickered. I'm not implying at all the LaRussa orchestrated all of this and manipulated McGwire into doing the right thing, but what I do find interesting is how overwhelmingly more effective LaRussa was than the angry public was in terms of getting McGwire to confess. Or put another way, it was LaRussa's love, support and acceptance, not the public's anger and not sportwriters pronouncements that they would never vote him into the Hall of Fame, that ultimately led McGwire be truthful about his past.

And so it is when Christian community works at its best. Tim Keller wrote in his book The Reason For God that "the church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum of saints". It is when people know they can freely come with all of their baggage and blemishes and still be loved and accepted where these baggage and blemishes and be dealt with and healing can begin. It's not a perfect analogy, and I would submit that unlike LaRussa, we should acknowledge (not ignore) and lovingly point out the wrongs of our brethren. That being said, those of us who call ourselves Christians can use the McGwire situation as a reminder that for a brother or sister who is struggling with sin, love and support tend to work far more effectively than threats.