No Apologies for the Sermon

Blog Post #10 Monica Rae

August 26th, 2020

They whispered to her, “You cannot withstand the storm…”

When my daughter was little, I taught her to apologize when she did something wrong. If you hit another child on the playground, if you throw a fit in the grocery store, if you take something that is not yours—say you are sorry! In fact, in those early years, I had drilled it so deep into her that now, as a teenager, she apologizes while she is being terse with me! My goal was humility and a spirit of vulnerability. My method—usually a sermon length explanation of the power of words and the way to process emotions. I may have gone overboard! I am sorry baby!

I will not apologize, though, for teaching her how to accept an apology.

When someone sincerely says they are sorry for not sharing it usually goes something like this:

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s ok.”

I stopped my daughter right there. I rewrote the expected apology dialogue. No longer was she to utter the words, “It’s ok.” No, child, it is not ok. Saying you are sorry does not make it ‘ok,’ it does not erase what happened.

Instead, I said, you reply, “Thank you for saying you are sorry.”

Gratitude opens your soul to healing.

Assuming someone else’s burden fogs up the process of peace.

As an adult, I am struggling with how to apologize, finding myself tripping over justifications, even wondering when it is appropriate. When we are young it is easy to follow the list of expected behaviors; use your manners, do not hit, do not take what does not belong to you, share, use kind words. As an adult the rules seem to be different depending on where you are or who you are with. The moral code we learned as children remains, but on top of it are expectations we have formed and often do not relay to those around us.

The lines begin to blur. The grey seeps in.

Now what?

We are the adults, no longer the children surrendered to adults’ influence or expectations.

I have come to realize it takes courage to say you are sorry. It also takes courage to accept someone else’s apology. And it takes the most courage to recognize when you are not responsible for either!

If you are a blog follower of mine, you may have noticed that I was late with my blog this month. (Thanks Mom, for reminding me!) Its delivery on the 15th was delayed because I was giving a sermon at two local country churches not far from where I live. I led both Lutheran services with prayers, music, and a sermon.

I am not musically inclined nor am I Lutheran, but I love words. The sermon is my sweet spot. I start weeks ahead of time for a 25-minute speech about the assigned text. I dig out the history, the translations, I want to know who, what, why, where about the text. And then I write.

I write and rewrite about 10 drafts over 2-3 weeks until it flows from my mind with the paper highlights as a guide. I crawl into it so I can share it from the depths of my heart.

I have been speaking to various groups for close to 18 years, preaching from time to time for the last six years. When I first started sharing at churches I felt I had to apologize for not fitting ‘the mold’—whether it was because I was a woman, because my religious, philosophical and political views did not match those sitting in the pews, or because of my career as a model for artists. Some did not want me to share, others just did not show up when I did.

At some point, I am not sure when, I stopped apologizing.

Because there was nothing to apologize for.

I had allowed myself to be put in a box of shame.

I had allowed myself to be defined by rules others assumed I knew and followed.

I wanted out.

This year, my daughter learned the harsh reality that not everyone likes her. She has such a rainbow personality, eager to please and kind by default. This truth hurt her, she teared up. The feelings tucked away in her heart somewhere waiting for a journal entry. As a thinker and problem solver I analyzed the situation, I tried to explain what this other girl must be going through, what drove her to such reactions and attitudes.

I hugged my child and kissed her hair. I did not say I was sorry. I knew her pain, I knew her tears. But I also knew she would be stronger because of them. She was already compassionate, now she would learn to be fierce. She did not have to fit in everyone else’s box of expectations.

Our fears, pain, insecurities, and mistakes can be our stumbling blocks or our indicators….

As women we are taught to care for and serve others with our money, talents and time. The pressure to possess the physical attributes of our culture’s image of beauty clouds our perception of what is beautiful. The plethora of expected roles can dictate our choices—or at the very least influence them.

I am learning to let go.

I am learning to listen to the truth of who I am.

To apologize when I should.

To dish out grace like it is dessert.

To ignore those who seek to distract, disturb or demean the rules of peace I seek to follow.

People will come or go in my life, based on their choices! No longer do I live in fear of the unknown or judgement from others who do not understand my choices. I am loved but not always understood…I am ok with that.

Regrets do not cloud my memories, but mistakes teach me how to walk forward.

“…And find your comfort here…,” My recent yoga instructor repeated this with each pause and pose.

I attended my first yoga class last week and was delighted by the reminder given to my body and my mind to be still. In the stillness, in the corner of a darkened room, in the waiting…

There is no escaping or ignoring or denying. An apology is not necessary because there is no room for fear. Just the permission to reside in peace…

They whispered to her, “You cannot withstand the storm…”

“…I am the storm,” she whispered.

DEDICATION: This blog is dedicated to the women in my life who walk unapologetically in their truth, in their creator’s peace. Their gift to me is their strength and their vulnerability!