I learned this week that I let down some of the people I respect and love most in this world. That I didn’t mean to and didn’t realize I had done so is irrelevant. That I truly made mistakes that led to their disappointment only worsens my pain and regret. I spent three days crying--my eyes turning purple and plump as grapes--before we could meet, and I could ask their forgiveness.
I hate being wrong. I hate being wrong to be complicated by being misunderstood. But, mostly, I hate being out of a right relationship with someone.
I have to admit that during those three days I got progressively more irritable with my family. I even snapped at Bob one night—something ridiculously absurd like "I'll think less of you as a person if you don't turn out the light," even though I was the last one in bed and had just walked past the lamp.
I had to apologize to him, too.
So, I couldn’t help wondering if I really meant what I’ve said about God being enough. If I believed it, why was this circumstance so painful? And then I realized it was because I craved forgiveness. Or, at least, I craved the opportunity to apologize, to do my part in restoring the relationship, human forgiveness never being something we can secure for ourselves.
Staying connected is what I crave with God, too. When my relationship with him is damaged or distant—and that’s ALWAYS my fault, never his—I’m all out of sorts. I can try to ignore the issue by pretending something else is bothering me, but there are few things that truly get me worked up when I’m in a right relationship with my Heavenly Father.
And the glorious thing is that his forgiveness is guaranteed. He draws me close, soothes my troubled heart, and lets me know that we’re going to be just fine. That’s good news for the journey.