I’m Sorry

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. [1 John 1:9]

sorry I’m sorry.

Those words don’t always come easily, and sometimes really meaning them is harder than saying them. But what happens once you’ve mustered the courage to apologize?

In thirty-five years of working with adolescents, I learned that they often perceived “I’m sorry” as a sort of get-out-of-jail-free card. “Why do I have to stay after school? I said I was sorry.”

I can’t imagine how many times I explained that, while I appreciated and accepted the apology, that didn’t automatically eliminate the consequences of a poor choice.

“But can’t you just forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you. But that has nothing to do with you hanging around until you finish that incomplete assignment.”

“But if I do that, will I still get full credit?”

“No, you know there’s a penalty for late work.”

“But why do you have to punish me?”

And it seemed that no matter how I explained it, they could never quite acknowledge that it wasn’t about punishment. Mistakes have consequences, and sometimes those consequences can’t be repaired or erased no matter how sorry you feel.

Every conversation ended with some variation of the universal adolescent mantra: “That’s not fair!”

A MISTAKE

I’m thinking about this because recently I made a mistake that diminished my credibility with a valued colleague. I didn’t intend any harm; it was an “honest mistake.” Lack of judgment and inexperience resulted in a poor decision.

I wanted to defend my choice, or blame someone else, or discount the seriousness of the offense. But after some rather convoluted mental gymnastics, I had to face the simple fact that I was wrong.

So I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and uttered the dreaded words: “I’m sorry.”

I wanted that to be the end of the matter. After all, it was an honest mistake, and I said I was sorry.

But my apology doesn’t wipe out the consequences of the offense. Like my students, I needed to fix what I could fix and acknowledge that some damage couldn’t be repaired. “I’m sorry” doesn’t magically restore trust or heal physical or emotional wounds.

I’ve also been wondering about another aspect of this incident: Does my apology entitle me to forgiveness?

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. [Luke 6:37]

I’m not entitled to anything simply because I made an error and confessed. Forgiveness is the prerogative of the offended party. It’s not earned or deserved.

Forgiveness can only be granted by grace.

Sometimes I forget that. I’m so accustomed to believing that my sins are forgiven through Jesus that I lose sight of the fact that forgiveness isn’t a right. It isn’t automatic, it isn’t free, and I certainly don’t deserve it. And yet, there it is. Each time I go to God and confess that I’ve fallen short, He forgives freely and completely.

So, while I hope my friend forgives my error, when I apologize to God I don’t need to wonder how He’ll respond.

CONSEQUENCES

How many times have you and I had the same conversation with God that I had with my students? How often do we equate His unconditional forgiveness with our selfish desire to avoid facing our own consequences? How many times have we cried, “It’s not fair”?

He turns the page, glues it shut, and grants us yet another new beginning. And then He walks with us through whatever mess we’ve created. He doesn’t magically wipe away the tears and the pain, but He does promise that they won’t be wasted.

He redeems them. He works for good in even our most sordid circumstances. And He never quits, no matter how many times we repeat the cycle.

We don’t deserve those new beginnings, and we’re not entitled to them. But they’re ours, through grace, because He loves us.