A Conversation I Didn’t Expect
What My High School Teacher Taught Me In My Mid-30s
Last year, I received a message from a number I did not recognize. It was from one of my high school teachers. Through a mutual friend, he had tracked down my contact information and wondered if I would be willing to meet. I did not know what to expect, but I knew he was in ministry, and thought “maybe he needs some technical help at his church.” I agreed to meet, and, a few weeks later, we were sitting on sofas across from each other in a private room. Instead of the ask for help I expected, he started right away with an apology.
Specifically, He told me he believed he had been too hard on me during my school years, and wished he had handled some things differently. Significantly, there was no defensiveness in his words, and no attempt to explain the past away or soften it with qualifications. He was simply honest, kind, and sincere in his apology to me for mistakes he had made and for ways he had mistreated me.
You may not understand the significance of that for me, so, if you’ll humor me, allow me to let you into my mind a bit. For much of my life, I have often felt like the one offering apologies. Sometimes, I rightfully apologize because I truly wrong someone. Other times, I apologize unnecessarily out of my own fear that I am failing in a way I am not actually (I wrote about failure and self-hatred in a separate piece recently). In any case, I often apologize, but I am not often offered apologies.
Don’t misunderstand, I don’t walk around every day feeling that everyone owes me an apology. I am prone to momentary annoyance just like anyone else, but, for the most part, my annoyances at people are short-lived, and I go through life at peace with people. I am not easily offended, and I genuinely don’t hold grudges. However, there are a handful of difficult, painful experiences I can recount where I was blatantly wronged or mistreated. For years, I have had to accept that I may never receive the apology I deserve for those wrongs done to me, and entrust the righting of those wrongs to God (Rom. 12:19).
For the most part, I’ve reached that acceptance and a place of surrender, but one thing I've always hoped for is an apology from someone representing my high school and the years I spent there. That’s not because I have long held a grudge (truly, I haven’t), or because every teacher was awful to me (truly, they weren’t). I had many good teachers and leaders trying their best to guide students. Further, I know that the youthful version of me didn’t always respond respectfully to my teachers, which I should have done regardless of whether I felt they were fair or unfair. Looking back, I came to recognize that those years were complicated for both sides; I just wanted someone to acknowledge that from the other end.
With that background, you can better understand why my teacher’s apology was so significant. He validated thoughts I’d long had about the experience as he admitted to mistakes and wrongdoing. It was a relief, in some way, to know that I didn’t imagine what I experienced. From his mouth, my memories were real, and I was mistreated. However, the apology did so much more than “prove me right,” and I never really hoped for that, anyway. What I hoped for — what we all hope for in some way — is the redemption of things gone wrong in life. The desire for justice and repair is a deeply human trait, which is why redemption and reconciliation are interconnected, as are often reflection and repentance. Together, all of these are incredibly relational, and that is what life and the Gospel are about.
We were created for relationship with God and others, both of which are fractured by the fall. Through the wonderful, mysterious workings of God, He both redeems what went wrong in the fall and reconciles us to Himself through Jesus Christ’s coming, life, death, burial, resurrection, ascension, and eventual return. Further, He invites us into the ongoing act of repentance, which often follows careful reflection on these very truths, in relation to both Himself and others.
Nearly a year ago, my teacher embraced and embodied all of that, and the experience has stayed with me. It remains one of the clearest expressions of the Gospel I have personally encountered. I extended forgiveness to him immediately, and then I apologized for where I had been wrong, too. We continued for about an hour talking about discipleship, pastoring, youth, maturity, marriage, and parenting. He spoke thoughtfully about the difficulty of leading while still growing himself. I was able to relate from my own experiences. As we parted, I left deeply encouraged. More than anything, I felt that his sincerity, humility, and repentance brought real healing.
With that, I end this piece with two final thoughts:
To my teacher, if you read this, thank you. I know I’ve already said it privately, but you deserve the public gratitude, even as you remain anonymous. Thank you for showing me the kindness of Jesus that day. Thank you for bringing healing in His name through your confession (James 5:16). Thank you for embodying the Gospel, the good news of redemption and reconciliation, through your thoughtful reflection and repentance. Thank you for following the Spirit’s leading to reach out to me. Thank you for loving me as Jesus does, and for showing your deep love for Him through your humility and obedience. I’ll truly never forget it, and I often pray for you, your family, and your ministry. Love in Jesus.
To my readers, as you read this, humbly consider who you might be able to embody the Gospel to, as my teacher did for me. Consider who you may have hurt or harmed, and how you might be able to redeem that experience for them through careful reflection and repentance. Of course, not every attempt at reconciliation will look like the one I’ve described here. Sometimes the person we have hurt is not ready to receive us, forgive us, or restore a relationship, and genuine repentance does not demand that they do so (likewise, sometimes we aren’t ready to accept an apology from someone who’s hurt us deeply). We cannot force reconciliation, and not every relationship is reconciled in an everyday sense. But we can faithfully pursue it. Therefore, pray for the discernment and humility needed to love, then go love. You just might bring real healing to someone’s wounds — which sounds an awful lot like something Jesus would do.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. (Ps. 147:3)
The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. (Prov. 12:18)
