apology

Is anyone actually good at apologizing?
I'm not.

In my head, I expect a fight. Or tears. Or... actually, I don't know. Either way, the times I have to apologize, I dread. I hate being wrong. And I hate having to admit it to the person I wronged even more.

On the other hand, I feel incredible guilt - that sick to your stomach, throw up at any time, can't focus on anything else kind of guilt - when something is unresolved and it's my fault.

Apologizing is incredibly freeing. It's healing. And usually the only thing that takes that awful pit in your stomach away.

It confirms my suspicions that the things in life worth fighting for will often require the fight.

88

There are a bunch of Psalms that are depressing. They call out to God and cry for help. And the Psalmist almost always ends with a "but." Like, "but You, Oh Lord are my strength" or "but You, Lord, have rescued me." Except one. (< I'll come back to that. Promise.)

I've learned a lot working with middle and high school students over the last few years. They surprise and impress me over and over again. And I don't want to overlook that. But at the same time, I'm shocked by the darkness that they have to live in. Go to school in. Share a roof with.

When I say "darkness," whatever it is you're thinking that could be darkness for a 13-year-old kid, it's worse. It's alcohol or drugs winning the battle between addiction and taking care of your kids. It's depression so deep it seems like death is a viable way out. It's things you think only happen in other countries or really terrible movies you wouldn't watch with your parents. It's material poverty in your backyard.

And it's overwhelming. And yes, I know that God is there and He is big and He is good. I know that He is in control and can take care of every student that I wish had a better - or at least a normal - life. But I think sometimes, it's okay to just be overwhelmed. Or at least I hope it is. Because I just admitted it in a public forum.

Psalm 88 is the one Psalm that doesn't end with a "but God." It starts this way:

Lord, you are the God who saves me;
    day and night I cry out to you.

The Psalmist is "overwhelmed with trouble" and "in darkest depths." And the Psalm doesn't end happily. Instead the final words:

Darkness is my closest friend. 

Yes, I trust that God is the God who saves me. Who saves everyone. And cares for them.
But there is also darkness. And it will not be forgotten.

for everyone

It was a bizarre scenario for me at church this weekend. I often sit with students in our high school and middle school ministry, but this scene was exceptional.

"The Hoodlums"
Behind me - two kids who I recognize by face, but not their names. I personally haven't seen them in a couple of years, but they've clearly been coming to church in that time. They're the type of kids my mom would have told me to stay away from in high school because they "look like trouble." Dressed like punks in skinny jeans and red Vans, they hunch down in the furthest back in the auditorium they could be. And through the whole service, I can hear them laughing. At all the right places. In a way that only someone who's invested in the pastor and knows about his quirks can be. They're not shouting, "amen" or anything like that, but they're listening. And then getting up and taking care of their younger sisters. Without the presence of parents to guide them.

"The Innocent"
To my left is one of our students with special needs. I've heard about basketball practice and games so far this morning, but once the music starts, he's all in on the service. Singing his heart out in a way with a sincerity that I wish I could muster up. He's nodding and murmuring along with the pastor because he agrees and doesn't care who around him knows.

"The Young" 
To my right are two 6th grade girls. They sit - surprisingly - quietly during this message about Jesus as our King and Leader. They get to hear that Jesus went before us - leading us - and that if we watch Him, we'll see Who He is and how He is God... and deserves to be our God. I'm not sure what they took away from the morning. If nothing else, I hope that someday when they're 21 and lost, they remember that Sunday when they heard there was Someone who loved them enough to die for them and that they can follow Him to a better and more abundant life.

And then there's me. Amazed that God has brought all of these people within yards of each other. Wrestling with my own insecurities and fears.

God isn't just for the "cleaned up" or just when "everything is fine." He's for everyone. All the time.