The Apology Lesson I Never Got—But Had to Learn
Growing up, I went to a small private Christian school. I remember being six or seven years old, sitting through Bible study lessons. In first grade, Mrs. South taught us the story of Joseph and his downright treacherous brothers who threw my biblical homie down a well. In second grade, Mr. Perry, taught us about heaven and hell with poster board cutouts that were quite unsettling. And in third grade, Mrs. Gatewood warned us about pagan traditions and why we should say no to Halloween candy. I didn't listen to this lesson—because if resisting the temptation of stale candy corn is a test of faith, I fail every year. But day after day we had lessons:
How good people channel their righteous anger?
Why should you tell the truth?
Why sometimes you just have to be a martyr?
Check, check, and an Amen from the folks in the back.
But what about those times when you’re the wrong one? What lesson teaches us how to show up after we’ve shown out?
I started this blog with a journey down memory lane because I grew up in the time of WWJD bracelets and T.D. Jakes’ sermons on AM radio. I studied the scripture and had pop quizzes on virtues and morals. Looking back, I knew John 3:16 before I knew my state’s capital. And you know what? I never got that lesson on apologies or how to ask for forgiveness from those around you. Or what to do when you’re standing ten toes down—on the wrong side of the proverbial tracks.
I’ve learned the hard way that saying, “Sorry.” doesn’t stop tears from flowing when I’ve caused pain. I’ve learned that remorse and apologies are different teams playing in the same ballgame.
That’s why I wrote this blog—because having difficult conversations is tough. But you can learn how to navigate them. How to create a space where someone feels heard and validated after harm has been done is the first step toward healing—for both of you.
Take a moment. Apologize. And then sit with your discomfort.
Over the years, I learned that one common habit can cause a lot of harm. Whenever someone told me I was wrong, I would immediately say what I thought they wanted to hear.
“I’m sorry, but …”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings because…”
“I did ABC because you did XYZ…”
“I’m sorry you felt that way, but I did it because of ....”
Looking back, sometimes my reasons were justified. A lot of times, they weren’t. But no matter my reasoning, in that moment, my explanations sounded like excuses—justifications for the pain and hurt I caused. I minimized the emotions of others because I didn’t want to sit with the uneasiness of someone being upset with me. Or that I—the infallible Christian Baucum-Davis—was, in fact, hella fallible.
The fragility of my ego caused me to negate the emotions of others.
Now, when I apologize, I do more listening than explaining. I let them tell me how they feel and apologize after I have given careful consideration to their perspective. By taking time to truly process the situation and apologizing without explanation, you provide the space someone needs to feel seen and heard. Now, the words “I’m sorry.” or “I understand how my actions hurt you.” feel more authentic, because they are more authentic. They come with thought and reflection behind them.
Everything doesn’t have to be fixed at that moment.
For most of my life, I used apologies as a bandage. I hurt someone. I say I’m sorry. They forgive me. Rinse and repeat. Everything goes “back to normal,” and my actions didn't matter. But more often than not, I found that the person who was upset still had a lot of resentment towards me, with just cause. I wasn't learning from my mistakes. In fact, “back to normal” actually meant that I continued to cause the same harm over and over again.
But apologies are just the beginning.
The totality of your apology lives in your actions afterward.
If you’re giving someone flowers and promising things will be different—but doing the same thing a day later, a week later, or a few months down the line—then your words and gestures become hollow. When you shift your mindset from seeking a quick fix to building an equitable relationship based on trust and respect, you’re actions will change too. Your friends, partners, and family will see your growth over time because you are actively trying to reduce the harm you cause. You won’t have to keep apologizing for the same mistakes. That doesn’t mean you’ll stop apologizing altogether, but hopefully, your mistakes will be different—and, overall, cause less harm.
We all make mistakes. We’ve been wrong before, and we’ll likely be wrong again. But when those moments arise, we’re committed to listening, learning, and growing. If you're looking for support in healing after harm, we’re here—let’s connect.
