Confession and Mercy

I deeply respect people who can admit they were wrong.

There's a guy in Harrisburg named Rick who fixes our cars.  His business is Petra Automotive.  The longer we go there the more we appreciate him.  He does a good job, he's flexible, he's prompt, he's honest.

And today I found out he's also humble.

Amy had her Honda in to get the timing belt fixed.  And something else that I don't remember.  It was supposed to be done at three this afternoon.  Amy couldn't pick it up because she worked at Grocery Depot all day.

I told her I'd make sure it came home.

Emily was on her way to pick blueberries at 3 so I asked her to drop me off.  Rick said the car wasn't quite ready--it would take another ten minutes, so Emily dropped me off at the post office and she took off for the berry patch.

I mailed my package and walked to Rick's in the lovely sunshine.

The car wasn't done.  And Rick had a very chagrined look on his face.

He and an employee had taken it out for a final drive, he said, just to make sure it was ok.  And then there was a rattling sound and it turned out that a big crucial bolt had fallen off somewhere.  Because. . . [I could tell this was hard to say] he had forgotten to tighten it.

The younger man was out scouring the countryside for that bolt, which seemed to be a very specific and distinctive Honda bolt that you couldn't just grab off the shelf and replace.


So I hung out at the library for a while.  Then I got the call that the car was ready to go and walked back.

Rick looked chagrined and very very relieved at the same time.  The employee had found the bolt, it was in good and tight, and the car was good to go.

He felt terrible about his lapse in judgment.

I said it's ok; we all need an extra dose of grace now and then.

So I drove home and thought about that.

We have all dealt with professional people, or important people, or people in authority, who could not admit they were wrong.

I'll bet someone comes to your mind right now.  A doctor, a pastor, a construction contractor, a boss, maybe a teacher.

They made a mistake.

And they just could not find it within themselves to say, "I was wrong.  I erred.  It was my fault."

Instead they covered it up and blamed others and obfuscated and gave long confusing explanations and made excuses.  Something came up, a part has to be ordered, more tests are needed, it's an unusual situation, someone was sitting down on the job, kids these days.

To somehow protect themselves, save face, and preserve their dignity.

And how did you feel?

Frustrated, I'll bet.  Angry.  Used.  Confused.  Taken advantage of.  Defensive.  And you knew you couldn't trust them again.

And how did I feel about Rick who openly admitted his error?

Compassionate, understanding, forgiving.

And we will certainly trust him to keep fixing our cars.

Quote of the Day:
"He who conceals his sins does not prosper,
but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy."
--Proverbs 28:13