Learning to Apologize
Without an apology, reconciliation often isn’t an option.
From babyhood, my daughter Lulu has steadfastly obeyed the apostle Paul’s command, “Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry" (Ephesians 4:26). She must have learned the passage in one of her first Sunday school classes. Somehow, the command’s urgency gripped her baby brain with the fear that whoever had angered her—usually me—might die in the night and she’d be left knowing that her last feelings had been angry and the last words reverberating between us into eternity were hurtful or mean.
Consequently, to this day, whenever we have a conflict, Lulu shows up at my side shortly before bedtime with the demand that I apologize so she can sleep.
“You have to say you’re sorry,†she rages, her 14-year-old face stony and closed, her body as taut and resistant as an angry toddler’s.
The conflict is rarely my fault. Lulu has a formidable temper and often, it seems to me, invents offenses. Sometimes I have no idea what’s upset her. Other times, it’s some minor misunderstanding, infected by adolescent crankiness and swollen out of proportion into yet another felony on my bad parenting record.
Over the years, though, I’ve come to understand Lulu’s demand that I say I’m sorry as her particular brand of apology. A mediocre one, admittedly—although not as bad as some, and certainly not as bad as none at all. She does yield enough to come find me. Or, if not—if she’s so mad she stews in her room until my tentative knock on her door—I still know she values my love enough to desire reconciliation. She awaits it and can’t sleep without it. This desire amounts to a species of repentance, I remind myself, and everything in me longs to forgive.
Nevertheless I struggle, sometimes, to eke out the demanded apology. To own fault for something I’m certain I didn’t do. To claim responsibility for a slight I never intended. To get inside Lulu’s hurt or impatience or expectations deeply enough to glimpse myself from her perspective and see my error. To recognize my own impatience or self-centeredness or stress usually lurking beneath the perceived offense. To confess it.
I always manage, though. I search my soul and offer her the best apology I can muster. “I should have known . . . †I tell her. “I didn’t mean to . . . . I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.†More bad parenting, I know. Insufficiently authoritative and just. Certainly far too accommodating to a fuming, wrong-headed teenager hungry for power. But I, too, want to sleep.
So, in the interest of sleep or love—or perhaps even in pursuit of that greater Force who promises both—I forgive Lulu’s absurd demand and offer the words she wants. “I shouldn’t have. I failed you. I’m sorry.†I consider these words, wrung from my righteous heart, a small contribution to our relationship. And, invariably, in the moment of giving them voice, I find myself genuinely, miraculously repentant—and better equipped to love and understand her. Our mutual apologies heal more than just the conflict in question.
Since becoming a Christian a dozen years ago, I’ve heard many sermons promoting forgiveness, but never one promoting apology. I’ve always wondered why not. The two topics are certainly related. A good apology—one involving the offender’s deep introspection and admission of guilt—frequently has the amazing power to activate forgiveness. And true forgiveness, not merely the forgiver’s relinquishment of resentment but the genuine reconciliation of both parties, usually hinges upon an apology. Without it, reconciliation often isn’t an option.
Unlike forgiving—especially the extreme mandate that believers go God himself one better and forgive even in the absence of repentance—apologizing is necessarily a two-way enterprise. An apology can’t occur without both offender and forgiver present. The worst apologies—such as counter-accusations in disguise or apologies canceled by disclaimers like, “I’m sorry, but . . . ‗still bring the conflicting parties together with the shared goal of reconciliation. Even if I refuse to apologize when Lulu comes to me, she and I are nevertheless in one place, facing each other, openly acknowledging our conflict and our shared desire for release from it. Before words emerge from our mouths, we’ve both already invested something in reconciliation: Lulu, the coming, and I, the acknowledging. And we both stand to win if the apology succeeds.
Bad apologies, however, come much more readily than good ones. It’s easy to say I didn’t mean it or that Lulu misunderstood me. Or to simply claim it didn’t happen the way she says it did. Such conditional apologies merely slow the forgiving, though, and delay the potential reconciliation. Delay sleep.
Unless I consciously set out to do so—as I’ve learned to do in my conflicts with Lulu—I almost never manage a guilt admission unsullied by excuses or rationalizations. If I’m at odds with my husband or a coworker or a friend, I struggle to look past my own understanding of the conflict and see myself from the other’s side. And even when I scrutinize my actions, I often overlook the most obvious artifacts of my amazing power to hurt and upset others. The acidic tone half-buried in pretended humor. The subliminal meanness. The myriad species of hate generated by my arrogance.
Lulu must also learn how to apologize—to substitute I-statements for the easier you-statements, and consider my perspective as well as her own. And someday I’ll teach her. For now, though, I simply model my best apology, which occasionally elicits a tiny apology in return, along with the soothing balm of mutual forgiveness.
And for all Lulu’s faults—for all mine—I take comfort that Lulu still hugs me goodnight at bedtime and that her last words to me, should I have the good fortune to die in my sleep, will have been “I love you.â€
Blessings,

Posted at 8:13 AM on May 14, 2008.
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Comments
Your post about your daughter and her demand for an apology from you "To own fault for something I’m certain I didn’t do..." raises serious alarm in me and does not illustrate my understanding of forgiveness.
Perhaps you dramatized these encounters with your daughter to make a point about the joy of forgiveness. But then you write, "The conflict is rarely my fault. Lulu has a formidable temper and often, it seems to me, invents offenses." And you add, "More bad parenting, I know. Insufficiently authoritative and just. Certainly far too accommodating to a fuming, wrong-headed teenager hungry for power. But I, too, want to sleep."
God did not ask us to roll over and forgive indiscriminately. Your post has less to do with forgiveness than to illustrate the sin of anger. Your daughter's demand that you apologize and to keep you awake until you do is not the intent of "Do not let the sun go down on your anger." [Eph 4:26] Your daughter's intent to wring an apology from you is designed to punish you, to make you suffer. This article on line illustrates both the dangers and value of well-placed anger: http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=334
This exchange between you and your daughter is frightening because I can see your daughter being the subject of letters to advice columnists in later life. I hope this was merely a poor example or a poor editing of apology and forgiveness.
Posted by: Mary on May 16, 2008
This was so timely for me. My 10-yr-old daughter and have been arguing a lot lately. She recently told me that I haven't apologized to her in a long time... or more aptly put "you haven't asked for forgiveness." I have been, admitedly, a bit self-righteous in that I know I didn't start the argument and I remind her of that. But as her hormones change and she has entered this new tween stage... I wondered if perhaps I should apologize even if I don't think I did anything to cause her momentary unhappiness. Perhaps it will help mend the delicate circle of trust and love that has had holes poked in it by our recent move to a new city. Thank you for sharing your words of comfort and giving me a glimpse of motherly love offered in a new light.
cmp
Posted by: cynthia on May 16, 2008
Thought provoking post Patty. I think Matthew 5:23-24 is talking about apologies when it says "go and be reconciled" before you bring a gift to the altar. It doesn't say who is at fault, just take care of anything that breaks that fellowship with a fellow believer.
I hope Lulu grows in humility as you teach her the sweet freedom that comes when we own our mistakes - and even own mistakes we didn't make - without "if's" or "buts!"
Posted by: Lori on May 17, 2008
Interesting thoughts. I stand on the other side of that with a son who is now in his twenties and recall many times that he apologized repeatedly and demanded for forgiveness for things he thought he had done real or imagined. He has OCD. It was the demanding part that caught my eye in your blog. It sounded so familiar just a kind of reversed situation. It only led to more and more demands. When it began to disrupt the whole of our family life we had to work hard to overcome the demanding behavior. When it is your child it is hard to know what to do even when what they do seems normal for them, if it disrupts the family with continual demands sometimes you have to be the one to help put limits around it. Most people don't demand apologies. It is one thing to express hurt and ask for an explanation it is another to blame and make demands for an apology. True apologies are given when the heart is touched and moved.
Posted by: Lori on May 19, 2008
Greetings to all of you from the author of this post!
I think what I've tried to get at here is how, in a conflict, I always think I'm right and the other person's wrong. That is the essence of conflict. In reality, if I search my heart and genuinely seek reconciliation, I generally find that I, too, was at fault.
I use Lulu's demand for an apology on my part--which, as I said in my post, is admittedly not the best way to go about reconciling--as an opportunity to explore my own heart and discover there what meanness might have been functional in the conflict. Invariably, I find plenty. Apologizing for it is humbling but also freeing. It invites reconciliation.
Some of you want to persuade me that I am a bad parent. I assure you, I don't need persuaded. My only solace, as a friend once comforted me, is the knowledge that God chose me and my husband for my girls. He thought we would do okay.
That said, I want to say here that I think it's important to remember that parents do not have the corner on rightness in conflict. Yes, Lulu's wrong to demand I apologize, and I may be wrong in agreeing to her terms for reconciliation. But, even when I am certain she's the one at fault, even when it seems to me that she has invented the offense she wants me to apologize for, I always find out that I too erred. If I'm honest, I knew it all along.
I didn't mean this post to be about my bad parenting but about apologizing as a means of reconciling a conflict. In conflicts with peers, I am likely to be even more certain than I am with Lulu that I am right and they are wrong. And I am far less likely to get to a place where I can recognize my own contribution to the conflict. My own error. Often in such conflicts, neither party apologizes--not me, not the other person. Rather, we both continue to stew until the bad feelings disappear into some hidden place in us both, or else we pretend to ourselves that we've forgiven the other person, whatever that means in the absence of repentance--in which case the bad feelings end up in the same place. Rarely do we really reconcile and begin afresh. And often, in the wake of such a conflict, rather than going to sleep in the knowledge that I love and am loved--as I do with Lulu--I wake in the night and worry.
In my post, I wanted to take my reconciliation strategy with Lulu into the world of peer conflict in hopes of being able to gain insight into my own offense in a conflict and to work toward meaningful repentance and, hopefully, reconciliation. Learning to apologize is how to get there, I think.
patty
Posted by: patty kirk on May 19, 2008
I wish to get ur story or aticles regularly.i luv it but i bont knw how 2 develop in it. keep it up n God bless u all. amen
Posted by: Lowen Esther on May 20, 2008
I appreciate your self-searching and honesty, Patty. I am a little alarmed that you don't think it's time to start teaching your Lulu about your side of the conflict and what you're learning. She's not going to be under your influence much longer, believe it or not.
There are many excellent books written for children about relationships, and I imagine there are similar resources for teens and/or parents to help you know how to approach the subject in a healthy way for both of you. Please pray about this and see if God doesn't send or point out some helpful materials or counsel. This is a long-standing situation and will take a long-term commitment to defuse or normalize.
I'll be praying for you. No parent is perfect and no child is, either. God gave you this child and you are doing the best you know how. It's a good thing he doesn't give us anything to do alone.
Posted by: Mary Brown on May 21, 2008
No parent is perfect, however we do try to live a hoy life.
What a blessing that you transparently show all sides of your parenting skills. If we wouldn't all succumb to our earthly emotions at any given time and under a particular circumstance, then the scriptures wouldn't have to give us the guide lines of what to do and what not to do in all aspects.
I am truly blesed by your honesty. Thank you.
Humility versus arrogance fosters understanding, forgiveness and thus acceptance.
God bless you
Dr. Trudy
Posted by: Dr. Trudy on May 21, 2008
Hi Patty, Thank you for your vulnerability. I'm sorry one of the responses was so harsh. I would like to invite readers over to my blog to read a post on forgiveness - here I share two stories of forgiveness where the only real player was God. Forgiveness, or even the desire to want to forgive, comes from God. We can only go along in obedience or not.
www.RumorsOfGlory.net/blog - the post on April 20th is called "Set Free"
Posted by: Lucille Zimmerman on May 21, 2008
simply put: you are teaching Lulu that she can be self-righteous and abusive to you.
If you behaved well, you don't apologize.
If Lulu was wrong, she is the one who needs to apologize.
For you to apologize when Lulu is wrong is NOT reconciliation, it is capitulation. That will not help Lulu, in any way.
Help yourself and learn about "tough love" and then learn to be assertive. Lulu does not have the right to about you, unless you give it to her.
I fear for Lulu's future husband and children.
Simply: If this were someone other than Lulu, would you still behave the same?
I hope not.
Posted by: Bruce on May 21, 2008
Some of your thoughts seemed strong as far as describing your daughter. I think as parents we need to model forgiveness and making apologies unconditionally, so it is not so foreign to those whom we are influencing. A great book on the topic, highly relevant and useful is "The 5 Languages of Apology" by Gary Chapman. It's helps us understand how others view styles of apologies.
Posted by: Andi on May 21, 2008
Patty
I know that you want reconciliation with your daughter but she must know when she is wrong,and she must not demand an apology. If you let her continue like this, when she is married, will she use this approach with her husband? I hope not, because if he is not willing to accept this type of behaviour, then how will they make it? Think on this. She needs to know now that parents do err and when they do, they apology. But when she is wrong, she must accept responsiblity and settle by apologizing.
Posted by: Arlene on May 21, 2008
I do agree with Ariene, Lulu's faults should be pointed out to her and she must be taught to apologise. Teenagers have a way of manipulating thier parents. They sometimes have blind spots about their own errors-it is always the fault of the other person.
A gentle confrontation with the Scriptures should do the work.
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