I am not big on confessing.
I mean, I believe in it and I get that it is important and meaningful and even necessary.
But I don't like it.
I never have.
As a child I really didn't like getting in trouble. My parents disciplined us for sure...but nothing out of the ordinary and certainly not in in proportion to the fear I had of getting in trouble. I really struggled to admit when I had done something wrong.
I was home by myself one day and for some reason I decided to take my temperature.
Remember...I am kinda old, so the thermometer was cool and fun to play with. It was glass and had mercury in it and you could watch it go up and and down...(What do they say about simple minds and amusement?!?)
Anyway, I was playing with it and I dropped it. And it broke; shattered glass and silvery little beads dancing all over the floor. I was immediately panicked! What was I going to do? What kind of trouble was I in? How could I get out of this without owning up to it? (Frankly, that was probably my first thought...not even kidding.) Soooo... I used a paper towel and scooped into the little drawer that goes under the griddle...you know, the one that catches the bacon grease.(I have no idea....) I found a piece of paper, carefully wrote: "I accidentally dropped this. I am sorry.", and displayed both on the kitchen table where my parents would eventually see it. And then I went and hid in my closet. Seriously. I am not making this up.
I would like to think that I have matured some since those days. But I still don't like owning up to my offences and mistakes and sins.
I received a an envelope in the mail a while back; addressed to me with no return address.
I opened it to find a pretty little handmade note card and the only words on the front were: "Sorry". Uh oh.
Upon reading the sentences inside, I discovered that someone had wanted to apologize for a long ago offense and ensuing bitterness and was hoping I was ok with that. I was dumbstruck. I did not even know that this person and I had any issues.
I read it a few more times and then stashed it. Out of sight...out of mind...sorta.
But then I ran into that person a few weeks later. After brief eye contact and a slight, forced smile, I walked on, feeling uncomfortable and awkward.
This wasn't good. I was going to have to respond.
Ugh.
If you've read any of my blogs or know me at all, you are not surprised that I am quite willing to reveal my thoughts and opinions and my general shortcomings. I am usually transparent about who I am etc.; perhaps to a fault. But individual confrontation initiated by me is not a strength. At this point I really just wanted to move on with my life. After all, I hadn't even known this person was holding grudge toward me. Call it blissful ignorance...it was preferred.
But was it what Jesus would do?
*Sigh*
I wrote a note accepting the apology, acknowledging the courage and humility it took to write to me, and offering forgiveness, but only after reminding the person that I too was a sinner, in desperate need of my Father's forgiveness, saved by grace and washed clean in the blood of Jesus.
I hope that was an isolated incident.
It is kinda rough thinking that someone would hold something like that inside for years. I don't want to be the reason that someone festers and grows bitter.
I pray that God would open my eyes to those around me; that I would seek fellowship and friendship and forgiveness.
And that if the occasion arises and it's appropriate, that I would have the humility to say "I'm sorry".
