I feel a strange sadness. A cozy sadness.
I remember around this time last year I had gotten into an awful fight with my son. I had forgotten to tell my son that his aunt had died. Sure, I eventually told him. But I was three days late. Eleanor was his beloved mother’s sister,
and held an honored position in his heart.
He was so mad. I remember being on the phone with him.
It was a long soul cramping silence, which I chose to
fill with some lame excuse as to overall busyness.
The silence continued. I
gave him a lengthy discourse on the many duties of my days.
“Dad…why can’t you ever just say you
are sorry?”
I continued my busyness diatribe
defense until I drilled it into the ground. Now -- I was quiet. Was he right?
Yes, he was right. Why am I simply not apologizing for failing to contact my
son until three full days after his aunt had passed. Even then, with full
awareness of my own failure, I still offered a limp pathetic apology.
“I guess I should have called sooner.
I am sorry. I didn't mean it to hurt you.”
“Yes, Dad, it hurts that you forgot
to tell me something you knew would be a fairly significant event in my life,
but, what hurts more, is that you have such a tough time saying you are sorry.
By the way, you expect me to apologize within minutes of such an infraction.”
I hesitated. Rummaging through my
memory for times when I swallowed a grievance whole, and never got an
apology. I came up with none. Justin is
good at forgiveness. He does it spontaneously, and with seemingly no difficulty
or need to think it through. He is amazingly quick at offering up – “I am
sorry!”
“Justin. You. Are. Right. I will work
on that, I promise. You would think, that as a pastor, forgiveness would be
second nature.”
“Are you kidding? I have been around
the church my whole life Dad, and I have rarely witnessed a collection of
people more reluctant to admit a mistake, let alone say they are sorry. Mom
took so many hits, it drove me nuts. I don’t think I ever heard anyone say they
were sorry to her, even when they treated her like crap.”
It was true. Christine had been the
victim of a good deal of bullying and badgering. She was incessantly being told
how and why she did not measure up to male pastoral standards. How she was too
powerful, too liberal, and way too verbal. I had never realized the degree to
which her poor treatment had impacted her young son.
“How about you, have you ever gotten
an apology from someone who attacked you for whatever…? I mean I have never
thought of folks from the church as role models for forgiveness. Sorry, but
that is just not my experience.”
“A few times. I have to admit it,
though we claim a faith in Christ, we Christians often feel we are immune from
the need to ask for forgiveness. I wish I could defend the church, but in this
case, well, I think you make a good point.
“There, now was that so hard?” Justin
asked snidely.
“Yes!” I responded in matching
snideness.
Then
we both laughed at the sad disturbing truth of it all.
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