A Straight Apology

from Lexi Eddings...

I'm not making any resolutions this year. There have been too many Januaries in my past that were littered with failed diets, dusty treadmills, diaries that fizzled, and the self-recrimination that comes from not meeting my own expectations.

But I am trying to make a change. Before I share what it is, I want to tell you a little story. A true one...

A few years ago, I was at a writers' conference. It was between workshops, so a group of my writer buddies and I had taken over part of the hotel lounge and we were having our own little confab over coffee, tea or whatever. Then another of my author friends joined us with a new guy in tow. He was a writer of gay romance and they'd just come from crashing an inspirational panel (read: evangelical Christian writers). He was absolutely spewing anti-Christian venom. Totally jazzed about disrupting things, too.

I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to defend my faith, but he was already so wound up, anything I might have said would have been like throwing gasoline on a fire. Instead, I sat in stunned silence as he continued his tirade. So did the rest of my friends. Guess they were feeling as attacked as I was.

Anyway, it seemed like not responding in kind was the right thing to do, because he ran out of steam fairly quickly and, like a wind-up monkey, he finally ground to a halt. He settled onto the over-sized ottoman next to me. And I started a conversation with him, looking for common ground. We talked about the writer's craft, about the publishing biz, about books we loved, about music and theater. He was fun to talk to. Considering that the encounter started with him trashing my God, my faith, and my fellow Christians, we made great strides.

A workshop I wanted to attend was coming up, so I had to leave after about twenty minutes, but I left feeling pretty good about how I'd handled the situation.

But something niggled at me.

I couldn't figure out why I kept going over this meeting in my mind. It bothered me for months. Years, actually. Then it finally hit me.

He wasn't lashing out at Christianity because he hated Christians. He was acting out because he'd been hurt BY Christians. Deeply. Repeatedly. He'd been made to feel unworthy. Rejected. Irredeemable.

I'd lash out, too.

And I started wondering what might have happened if I'd responded differently. What if I'd been discerning enough to recognize the pain that motivated his rant? What if, instead of stunned silence, I'd reacted by saying something like:

"I'm so sorry that someone has used the name of Jesus to hurt you. Sometimes, Christians use scripture to condemn others when we're supposed to let it change us. No matter what anyone says, God doesn't think you're junk. He loves you. He thinks you're worthy. He doesn't reject you. And neither do I. Instead, I ask your pardon for the hurtful things I have done and the helpful things I have left undone. Can you forgive me?"

What would our conversation have been like then?

Anyway, back to the change I was talking about making earlier...

My goal for this next year is to become a more compassionate person. I want to have a deeper empathy for others. I want to be able to discern the motive behind their actions and words, and use that discernment to help them if I can.

I have a feeling this is going to be much more difficult than if I'd just listed off a few resolutions that I could laugh about having abandoned after a month or so. This is about working on myself on a much deeper level than losing a dress size or two.

The world is tough. It's easy to become hard. But I don't want to be like that. I want to be tender.

It's probably going hurt, but I have to try.