Hand me a dictionary. I know there are some words in there that would be challenging for me to say. But if I’m being honest, the two hardest words for me to learn to say were, “I’m sorry.”
Why is that? Why is “I’m sorry” so hard for us? What makes us choke back the words, put on our stubborn hats, and justify the defiance going on inside of us?
Here’s my story.
1988. A wonderful year. I married my best friend, Dan. We were in love. Marriage was great… until our first disagreement.
Do I remember what it was about? No. But I do remember the theme of our fights. Not what they were about or how they started, but how they would end.
We would be upset at each other. Leave the room angry. Sometimes he was right, sometimes I was right, but it didn’t matter. I was going to make sure I stoked the fires of self-pity and justification. I would build a case for why I was allowed to be hurt, upset, and angry.
When we allow ourselves to justify our behavior, our thoughts, and our actions, we become more and more self-righteous and stubborn. And it becomes harder to break away from that pattern.
So there we were. A few minutes or maybe a couple of hours had passed. I would be stewing, making sure he knew I wasn’t happy. I wanted him to feel like he was “in the doghouse.”
Sure enough, he would come to me, look me in the eyes, and apologize. He would tell me he didn’t want to fight. That he loved me and valued our relationship.
YESSSS. I knew I was right. He finally came to his senses.
But over time, I started to realize a pattern.
I was never the one to admit I was wrong. Never the one to say I was sorry.
And honestly, I started to get frustrated—not at him, but at myself. He was the bigger person. He could apologize freely. He could let go, put down his pride, and choose love.
Why couldn’t I?
I wanted to be the bigger person. I wanted to be mature. So I would have this inner dialogue: “Okay, next argument, I’m going to apologize first. I’m just going to say it.”
Then the moment would come… and I would sit there arguing with myself.
What was wrong with me? Why was saying “I’m sorry” so hard?
My mind and heart were cheering me on—say it, say it, say it.
But my pride and my mouth were working together against me—“it’s not your fault… it’s not your fault…”
Finally, I did it.
I apologized.
Did I do it for the right reason? I don’t know. Do I think it matters? No. I think God was taking me on a journey to change my heart. He was making me aware of a huge issue in my life—my pride.
You can ask my husband. We laugh about it now. How far I’ve come… and how far I still have to go.
I love this verse:
“Work at getting along with each other and with God. Otherwise you’ll never get so much as a glimpse of God. Make sure no one gets left out of God’s generosity. Keep a sharp eye out for weeds of bitter discontent. A thistle or two gone to seed can ruin a whole garden in no time. Watch out for the Esau syndrome: trading away God’s lifelong gift in order to satisfy a short-term appetite.”
Hebrews 12:14–17 (The Message)
Work at getting along with each other and with God.
Sometimes that means being the one to say, “I’m sorry.”
When is the last time you said you’re sorry to someone in your life?
When is the last time you said you’re sorry to God?
Are you keeping a sharp eye out for weeds of bitter discontent that you might be allowing to grow?
Are you trading away God’s lifelong gift to satisfy a short-term appetite?
The appetite to be right…
The appetite to prove a point…
The appetite to ______.
(You fill in the blank.)