Waiting For An Apology

Apologies don’t heal us.  We’d like to think that they do, but they don’t.

In fact, waiting for an apology can be dangerous.  You see, demanding contrition stalls the healing process.  It squeezes the wound, hoping the perpetrator sees that we're still bleeding.  

Would you like a bandage?  Some antiseptic?  "No thanks, I'm waiting for my apology."  

Of course, there are some exceptions - some apologies are immediate.  You step on someone’s toe:  Oops! I’m sorry.  You fail to return a text: Sorry.  Just saw this.  You butt-bump someone at church: Excuse me.  So sorry. (In my defense, it gets really crowded at our church!)

But as you well know, most apologies aren’t in the moment.  They buffer.  Some take days, others take years, and then there are those that never come at all.  Never. 

It’s these apologies – these unfulfilled promises – that are the mirages leading us farther and farther into our desert of bitterness.  Some of us have been wandering there for years.

To say,  "I’m waiting for your apology” is to say, “You owe me something.”  We can’t stand the thought of the antagonist walking away unscathed.  It goes against every fairy tale we’ve ever read.  Bad guys are supposed to pay!  The villain has to fall off of the roof, the witch has to melt, and the traitor has to hang. 

We can’t accept a story that allows our villain, witch or traitor to walk away smiling.   There must be another chapter, right?  I’m sorry will surely come before The End.

But grace takes a different position.  Grace believes the climax of the story is forgiveness rather than punishment.  Grace doesn’t need him to say I’m sorry in order for you to say I’m healing.  Grace starts working long before an apology; as a matter of fact, grace never assumes an apology is coming.

The beautiful scandal of the Bible is that God chooses not to press charges.   The Father devised a rescue plan before His people even knew they were lost; the Son forgave soldiers while they were in the very act of crucifying him; and the Spirit came to a world that still mocks Him today.  Grace, grace, grace.

Understand this: You may never get that apology. 

It would be nice; they owe it to you.  But it might not happen.  He may never admit fault, she may never change, and you may never hear I’m sorry that I hurt you. 

Can you handle that?  Can you choose to forgive knowing that you may not be asked to?  Can you give the same generous grace that you so readily received?

Some of us can’t.  Let me rephrase that: some of us won’t.  We’ll hold out for our apology.  We’ll buttress our position.  We’ll review our notes.  We’ll plead our case. 

It's an understandable and sad existence.  You’ll be right, but you’ll be miserably right.  You’ll wander in your desert, stumbling towards a cruel mirage.  Your best friend will be thirst, and your favorite word will be tomorrow.

I’m not going to fault you for living like that, but I am going to suggest that you don’t have to.  Grace can refresh you; forgiveness can free you.  

Maybe these are the things you’ve been waiting for all along.