Early in my ministry, I sat for coffee with a more seasoned pastor. Over two minutes, I shared the abbreviated version of my story. After a pause, he leaned back, and in a deep Georgia drawl, said something that’s stayed with me ever since:

“Alex, I’m gonna tell you something – there’s two types of pastors in this world. You got your lab rats, and you got your sewer rats. Lab rats, they go from classroom to classroom, and they don’t have a scratch on ’em. Nothing I hate more than a lab rat trying to tell me how to live in the sewer. But you? You’re a sewer rat. You got scars on you, and I can see ’em. We need more sewer rats out here.”

As strange as it sounds, this was one of the most affirming things I’ve ever heard. It wasn’t just about the scars; it was about the authenticity they represent.

We live in a culture where it’s tempting to present ourselves as clean, polished, and unscathed—a version of the person we wish we were, rather than the flawed, scarred human we truly are. Yet, it’s those scars—the evidence of struggles overcome, of grace experienced in the mess—that connect us to others in a meaningful way.

Ministry, life, and leadership don’t happen in pristine labs. They happen in the trenches, in the muck, in the places where honesty and vulnerability matter most. It’s not our perfection that helps others; it’s our willingness to meet them where they are, scars and all.

So, here’s to the sewer rats: those willing to show their scars and walk alongside others in the messiness of real life. We need more of them.