She fell at his feet and said, “I accept all blame in this matter, my lord. Please listen to what I have to say.” [1 Samuel 25:24 (NLT)]
While visiting my son last summer, I was walking in his neighborhood when a car raced out of a blind driveway and, without even slowing to look for cars or people, sped down the street. If I hadn’t paused briefly by the gate to get a flower photo, I would have had an intimate encounter with the vehicle. After thanking God that I hadn’t become road kill, I continued down the road and turned onto the walking path. I was a little disconcerted when a car approached and stopped but, when the driver lowered his window and called out to me, I realized it was the driver of the speeding car. After offering an earnest apology, he explained he’d been late for a meeting but added that his tardiness was no excuse for his recklessness. Ashamed of his behavior, he’d returned to make sure I was OK. Assuring him I was fine, I wished him well. I was both shocked and touched by the unexpected apology. While unnecessary, it was much appreciated since I knew the driver probably lost another ten minutes by turning around to find me and apologize.
The story of David, Nabal, and Abigail highlights the importance of apologies. David and his men were hiding from King Saul in the wilderness when they came across Nabal’s shepherds and flock of sheep. Rather than stealing any animals for themselves (as might be expected by a hungry army), David’s men formed a line of protection around the flock so that no harm would come to them or the shepherds.
When sheep shearing time arrived, David sent ten men to Nabal to request provisions for David’s troops. This was not an inappropriate request. By accepting David’s protection, Nabal’s shepherds had obligated their master to make provision for the men. With 3,000 sheep and 1,000 goats, Nabal was a wealthy man and some of that wealth was because David’s men had guarded it! Moreover, Israelite law and tradition demanded that hospitality be offered to travelers. While an honorable man would have met his obligations, Nabal (whose name meant “fool”) lived up to his name and refused the request with rudeness and contempt. When the men reported Nabal’s boorish response, the angry David gathered 400 of his men and set out to kill every man in Nabal’s household.
In the meantime, a servant reported his master’s rashness in offending David to Nabal’s wife Abigail. Knowing an apology can do a lot to diffuse a difficult situation, the wise woman quickly packed up an enormous quantity of food and wine and went to meet David. After humbly apologizing for her husband’s boorish behavior, she offered the provisions to David’s men. Considering Nabal’s personality, this probably was not the first time Abigail had to apologize for her husband’s foolish and offensive conduct. Her heartfelt apology averted the senseless tragedy that would have occurred had David carried through his attack. Upon learning of his wife’s generosity, Nabal suffered a stroke and died ten days later. In what could be called poetic justice, David ended up marrying the lovely and wise widow.
An apology isn’t just saying we’re sorry, especially when, as often is the case, it includes justification for our poor behavior. A true apology is like the driver’s and Abigail’s. It is offered with a humble heart, admits being in the wrong, expresses regret, and makes restitution for any offense. “Blessed are the peacemakers,” said Jesus; one of the ways we make peace is with an apology!
Never ruin an apology with an excuse. [Benjamin Franklin]
Growing up, one of my favorite hymns was, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.” Its author, Lesbia Scott, wrote hymns for her children as expressions of the family’s faith. Not originally intended for publication, she wrote this song to emphasize that saints lived not just in the distant past but also in the present day. My favorite verse was the final one and I recall singing it loudly with childlike enthusiasm: “The world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus’ will. You can meet them in school, on the street, in the store, In church, by the sea, in the house next door; They are saints of God, whether rich or poor, and I mean to be one too.”
I thought of that great fixed chasm between heaven and hell again after reading C.S. Lewis’ fantasy, The Great Divorce. Lewis clearly warns his readers that the book is a fantasy, what he calls “imaginative supposal,” and should be read that way. He does, however, add that it does have a moral. The book’s unnamed narrator (presumed to be Lewis) describes what seems to be hell as a grey, dingy, and utterly joyless place where quarrelsome souls continually argue with one another and move further and further apart. Finding himself there, the narrator joins others as they take a bus ride from this grey world to a vibrant, beautiful, and substantial place that appears to be heaven.
Shortly after accusing the Pharisees of being more concerned with appearing righteous than being righteous and warning them that God knew what was in their hearts, Jesus told them a story about a rich man (who probably appeared quite righteous) and a beggar named Lazarus. The leprous and destitute Lazarus sat by the rich man’s gate and begged for scraps from the man’s table while mangy dogs licked at his wounds. The rich man ignored the beggar; to him, Lazarus probably was a little more than a piece of trash to step over before entering his home. When Lazarus died, he was carried by angels to a heavenly banquet and seated in a place of honor beside Abraham. When the rich man died, however, he ended up in Hades or Sheol, the realm of the dead. The mention of “torment” and “flames” there indicates that the rich man was in what Jewish tradition called Gehinnom (a place of fire and anguish).
When Jesus said to turn the other cheek, was he teaching total nonresistance in every circumstance? Are Christians to be doormats to be walked all over? Was he telling the battered wife to remain a punching bag to her abusive husband, the father not to defend his family in a home invasion, the teacher not to protect his students from a crazed shooter, or the girl being molested not to fight back? Having nothing to do with pacifism, Jesus’ words don’t mean we ever should place ourselves or others in danger nor did He say we shouldn’t resist the forces of evil. Using an easily understood example (at least for a 1st century person in Judah), Jesus made it clear that He was speaking about our reaction to personal insults. Rather than not resisting evil, we are not to resist an evil person by seeking retaliation.
Devotions of the Heart 