You’ll Never Forgive Yourself Until You Do THIS First
By the time I slammed their fridge door, it was too late.
I had over-reacted.
Done the deed.
Anger had hijacked my heart.
I was pissed.
Embarrassed.
And would regret the next few words to slip from my tongue—if I let them.
I needed to escape…
So I left the kitchen.
I didn’t have to go home, but I sure as heck couldn’t stay in there.
Our festive night didn’t start this way…
We had embarked on a crucial mission.
Determined to flee 2020. On New Year’s Eve. As two couples, together.
The 4 of us were rebels with a cause.
We would end the year the way it started—with a little bit of normal.
Eating delicious food…
Drinking from a fully-stocked bar…
Playing fun party games…
And of course, with lots of joking and laughter between close friends…
We had won. Our mission was a success.
It felt like 2019, even if just for one evening.
Until my one anger-induced move almost cost us victory…
We were playing Cards Against Humanity around the kitchen table.
The ladies were whooping us hard.
Their mind reading skills—an essential ability for this popular party game—were superior to ours.
However, no one at the table could detect my closely-guarded thoughts of building irritation and insult.
I hid my anger well. Until I couldn’t anymore…
When I thought one endless joke about me had departed the land of levity and entered the country of cruelty…
My character was attacked. My commitment to my marriage was questioned.
At least, that’s what I felt.
No one meant to cause harm. It was all in good fun. Between close friends.
But my anger inside continued to swell…
You know how one second your evening is going great, and then in the next second…
….it’s not?
Especially when you’re drinking?
So I left the game. I needed a buffer zone between my body and the table.
Yet I was still within earshot of the conversation…
When I walked to their fridge, opened the door, poured water into my glass…and right as I was about to close the door…
…one more joke was piled on top of the rest…and I snapped.
I slammed the fridge door.
I had transformed from a fun-loving friend into a raging idiot in less than a second.
My buffer zone now needed to expand. Immediately.
I bolted up the stairs.
To hide in our guest room for the night.
To stew in my anger. While I mentally replayed on a loop what just happened.
Thank God I have a really good best friend. He wouldn’t have any of this.
He chased me upstairs. To hunt me down….and our friendship.
“What happened??!”, he asked in shock.
“I don’t need this!”, I said.
“I work really hard to be a good husband. And this joking is an attack on me and my character. I don’t need any of this introduced into my marriage, with my wife sitting at the table.”
My friend understood. But also wanted to explain…
“You know we were joking, right? The only reason we said any of that stuff is because it sounds so ridiculous about you. Otherwise, we would never say it.”
He was right. I didn’t regret defending myself, but I also knew everything was said in jest.
And I should have channeled my feelings in a much more productive way.
They had no clue how I felt…
I could have told them without bursting into a mini-episode of rage.
Instead, I let my anger boil inside until it overflowed into an instantaneous act of disrespect.
Because I’ve always considered personal property as an extension of the person.
You disrespect the property, you disrespect them.
So I apologized for slamming my buddy’s fridge door. And dashed downstairs to apologize to his wife.
Good news is they both forgave me…
He said, “I don’t care about that. Our friendship is much more important than a fridge door.”
And I forgave them for how I felt about the jokes.
But the road to self-forgiveness was a long and treacherous trek for me…
I was still embarrassed. Mad at myself. For the fridgicular assault I had committed in my friends’ kitchen.
I replayed the 2-second tape in my head over-and-over again the next day.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
Followed by the lingering sound of pickle jars and ketchup bottles as they rattled inside.
I don’t like to lose control. Allowing anger to reign supreme.
I thought to myself: “I should be better than this. And I won’t use drinking as a convenient excuse.”
Few disappointments are worse than those regrets which emanate from ones own heart.
Do you struggle to forgive yourself sometimes? Many times? All the times?
Have you ever uttered a word or done a deed you now wish you could erase from history?
We all do. We’re human. We make mistakes—often.
It’s shocking how quickly a damaging word can slip off the tongue.
Or how one regretful action can kick-start a chain of unpleasant re-actions throughout our lives.
So we beat ourselves up. Struggling to do better on our own.
Just like I felt on New Year’s Day…
Until I once-again accepted the most humbling truth in all of humanity…
I can’t do this on my own.
I need Jesus.
To be released from this self-imposed bondage.
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.—Galatians 5:1
I’ve been forgiven. For every sin committed. Past, present and future.
And so have you.
This gives you freedom. From sin. From condemnation. From Satan’s subtle lies.
That you’ll never be good enough. You’ll never measure up.
That you are defined by your mistakes.
Instead, ask God what He wants you to learn from your mistakes.
Take responsibility. Say you’re sorry.
Then move on.
Never let your sin shape your identity.
Because as a believer, you are a new creation in Christ.
Own your mistakes, but NEVER allow your mistakes to own you.
Paul called this “Godly sorrow”.
The type of sorrow that leads to repentance. That leads to change. That leads to you looking a little more like Christ each day…with His help.
Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. — 2 Corinthians 7:10
Instead of hopeless condemnation, you have everlasting forgiveness…
Instead of slavery to sin, you have freedom through Christ…
Instead of irreversible regrets, you have a new beginning…
Every. Single. Day.
It can be difficult to accept forgiveness today—in our shame-ridden, cancel culture world.
You don’t feel like you deserve it.
And plenty of people will tell you you don’t.
But here’s the odd truth about being a disciple of Jesus Christ…
We have always lived in a cancel culture.
When He cancelled our sin…
Our death…
Our shame and guilt…
So yes, you DO deserve forgiveness—because Jesus made it so.
He gave you the ultimate presidential pardon.
And it’s for much more than an earthly life sentence. It’s for all of eternity.
I slammed my friends’ fridge door in anger.
Allowed Satan to seep through for a split second.
I know it was wrong.
But I also know I’m forgiven.
By my friends.
By my Lord.
And now, finally, by myself.
And through this forgiveness, I have the freedom to repent.
To turn from this wretched way of life to something better.
Something bigger.
Something heavenly.
What do you need to forgive yourself for right now?
A harmful word?…
A deceitful act?….
Accept the infinite forgiveness of Christ.
He sacrificed Himself on the cross for this exact reason.
To set you free from the bondage of sin…and all the shame that comes with it.
You are no longer a prisoner.
You are a free citizen in the Kingdom of Christ.
But don’t forget: With this prestigious, humbling title does come responsibility.
To be more loving, more gracious, more forgiving, more self-controlled…
Whether your enduring horrible drivers on the road…
Battling a fierce opponent in a political debate…
…or even when you’re celebrating the new year with close friends.
Give everyone—including yourself—the gift of forgiveness Christ has bestowed upon all of us.
This is how free people live.
