The Fine Art of Saying “I’m Sorry”

A Sunday morning thought from the Reverend.

By the Toledo Tribune

The Fine Art of Saying “I’m Sorry”

There’s no trickier art form than saying “I’m sorry,” and I include juggling flaming torches and arguing with your spouse in that statement. Apologies are slippery things—they require a level of humility most folks like to keep hidden, and they often come with the faint hope that we’ll get one in return.

But let’s be honest: most of us prefer giving advice about apologies to giving actual apologies. We’re excellent at telling others how to patch up their messes while conveniently sweeping our own under the rug. That’s just human nature, and the Bible has a few things to say about it.

Matthew 5:23-24 doesn’t beat around the bush: “If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there… First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.” In other words, God isn’t interested in your grand gestures of piety if you’ve got unresolved grudges sitting around like unwashed dishes.

But saying “I’m sorry” gets tricky when we’ve been wronged, too. Picture this: your neighbor lets their cow wander into your garden. It tramples your prized tomatoes and leaves a hoofprint on your dignity. So you march over, red-faced and righteous, and let loose a sermon so fiery it could roast marshmallows.

Later, when the steam clears, you start to feel a little uneasy. Maybe you didn’t have to shout. Maybe your neighbor wasn’t entirely to blame. So, you walk back over, hat in hand, and you mumble, “I’m sorry for losing my temper.”

Now, if your neighbor’s worth their salt, they’ll say, “Well, I’m sorry about the cow,” and the two of you can patch things up over a handshake and some lemonade. But life isn’t always so neat. Sometimes, your neighbor will shrug and say, “Not my fault. Your tomatoes were overrated anyway.”

And here’s where the real work of forgiveness begins.

The Apostle Paul tells us in Colossians 3:13, “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Notice there’s no clause about waiting for the other party to shape up first. Forgiveness isn’t a transaction—it’s an act of grace.

When Jesus said, “Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34), He wasn’t waiting for an apology. He forgave, not because they deserved it, but because that’s who He is. And if the Son of God can forgive the folks who nailed Him to a tree, surely we can forgive a wandering cow—or even a stubborn neighbor.

Now, I’m not saying forgiveness is easy. If it were, we wouldn’t need divine inspiration to pull it off. But here’s the thing: forgiveness isn’t just for the other person—it’s for you. Holding onto a grudge is like keeping a rattlesnake in your pocket; it hurts you far more than the person you’re angry with.

So, what’s the “art” of saying “I’m sorry”? It’s humbling yourself enough to admit when you’re wrong and brave enough to forgive when someone else is wrong. It’s walking across the field, hat in hand, whether or not the other person meets you halfway. It’s trusting that God, who forgave us when we didn’t deserve it, will take care of the rest.

Apologies and forgiveness, you see, are two sides of the same coin. You can’t spend one without the other, and both are worth more than gold when it comes to fixing broken fences—or broken hearts.

So, if you’ve got a cow in someone’s garden or a grudge in your heart, do yourself a favor: say “I’m sorry,” forgive the other person, and let God handle the tomatoes. Life’s too short to hold onto hoofprints.