I'm Sorry For What I Think I Might Have Said

As Taylor Swift sings at the beginning of the Eras Tour... 'its been a long time.' Life has been busy the last few months and writing for fun has gone to the bottom of my list. I'm attempting to be a little less perfectionistic with writing on here, so in the spirit of that, here is a more diaristic pice to get myself back into the swing of it again.

My head was buzzing as I lay in bed, as my brain began playing its’ faulty recordings of everything I had said over the weekend. Was that the wrong thing to say? Was I too sarcastic to that person? Maybe they were hurt or offended by what I said?

After a particularly social weekend some combination of these thoughts will be pinging around in my brain. I'm faced with two problems: I cant remember everything I said to everyone I spoke to, (though that doesn't stop me from trying to catalogue it in my mind). And: I cannot interview everyone I spoke to about their own experience of what I said. I have no way of knowing short of someone messaging me to say they were upset by it. Now I can lean on the fact that I know that I'm not someone who tends to put their foot in their mouth, or someone people tend to find abrasive. I could tell myself that the fact that I'm so worried about this problem maybe means that I'm not likely to go around saying rude things to people. But if you also struggle with this kind of thinking you'll probably be very aware of the fact that logic doesn't really help in this scenario.

Really it all boils down to a vague sense that I have done the wrong thing. Very obviously. In front of other people.

As I sat in church that Sunday evening, I'll admit, I somewhat dreaded conversation after, because it felt like another opportunity for me to feel like I'd stuff up and feel bad in some way. The vague guilt was just sitting there on my shoulder, snatching my focus away from everything else.

I really love regular, repeated, collective liturgy, a staple of Anglican worship. This moment in church was a moment where one of the reasons I love it was driven home very personally. I find the repetition of communal spoken liturgy reassuring and calming for my anxious mind. But another thing I love about them is that the repetition allows for the same words to be illuminated by the experiences of that week. The words might not change, but each week has been made up of an incalculable number of different experiences. This week I sat in church anxious that I had done wrong to others. And in that moment of vague anxiety, as a whole church we prayed these words:

Merciful Father, we have strayed from your ways like lost sheep.

We have followed too much the schemes and desires of our own hearts, and have broken your holy laws.

We have left undone what we ought to have done, and we have done what we ought not to have done.

Yet, good Lord, have mercy on us; restore those who repent, according to the promises declared to us through your Son, Jesus Christ.

Grant, merciful Father, that from now on we may live godly and obedient lives, for Jesus' sake and to the glory of your holy name, Amen.

After praying all together, the minister finishes this moment with a verse of scripture in assurance of God's forgiveness, or prays this prayer:

Merciful Lord, grant to your faithful people pardon and peace, that we may be cleansed from all our sins, and serve you with a quiet mind; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

It is a classic prayer of general confession and assurance, a version of which has been prayed in Anglican churches for a very long time. And in that moment of vague fears that I had done wrong, I was given the opportunity to give that feeling, and any sin, over to God, and be assured of his forgiveness. I was reminded that really, I did not need to sift through everything I had said the last few days. That’s the beauty of general confession- it covers it all. At some point, my sinfulness would have impacted what I said, if people noticed or not. I might be practised at hiding my sinfulness before others, but no amount of practise can hide it from God. He sees all. That thought by its self might be terrifying. But when combined with the other great truth of the gospel; that Jesus took all the punishment for my sin upon himself, these truths are liberating for the anxious soul.

God sees and knows my sin. Even when I haven't seen and noticed it myself.

Jesus provides forgiveness for it all. Even for sin I haven't seen and noticed myself.

That’s the beauty of the general confession: It acknowledges our propensity to sin. In thought word and deed. In ways that might not be known by us, and might not then be able to be confessed in specificity. But that doesn't matter. Our merciful Lord sees it all. And through Christ forgives it all. I wasnt sure if I had said or done anything that needed forgiveness, but saying that confession at church assured me that even if I had, that too was forgiven through Christ.

The words might stay the same each time we say them in church. But the life that infuses those words with meaning is ever changing. And those repeated words ministered to my anxious soul.

There are times when I have said words that needed to be apologised for, and I've sought forgiveness. (Often to a response of, I don't even remember you saying that). But there are times when I just generally feel weighed down by guilt. In both of those times, the place where we can find ultimate peace and forgiveness is at the cross. Before our father. We confess our manifold sins, real, possilby imagined, seen and unseen, so 'that we may be cleansed from all our sins, and serve [the Lord] with a quiet mind; through Jesus Christ our Lord.' We are set free from that guilt, and given the peace that only comes from knowing your are forgiven.

May that regular rhythm of confession and assurance bring peace, and quiet your mind like it did for me.

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