I felt like a fraud.

I stared at the screen, rereading the draft for the hundredth time: 

“I’m really sorry for turning this in late again. I know deadlines are important, and I’ll try harder to stay on top of things in the future. I really appreciate your understanding.” 

It sounded decent—earnest, polite, and hopefully sincere enough to win me some sympathy.

This wasn’t the first time I’d written something like this. It’s wasn’t even the first time that week. I genuinely felt terrible for letting them down. I wanted to change. I wanted to be the student who turns things in on time, who didn’t beg for mercy at the eleventh hour.

I’d made promises before. I’d told myself this would be the last time a hundred times over. And yet, here I was. Another missed deadline and another half-hearted assurance that I’d “try harder.”

The truth was, I didn’t believe things would get better. I thought I just wasn’t cut out for this. I wasn’t disciplined enough, wasn’t organized enough, wasn’t enough.

And that crushing realization led to this final thought: 

What’s the point of apologizing if nothing ever changes, if I never change?

Apologies made from a place of “not being enough” carry guilt and shame. 

They acknowledge the truth of a wrong but focus on fixing it with promises of improvement. Without a solid foundation, those promises feel hollow—leaving us stuck in a cycle of guilt, effort, and eventual failure.

Striving apologies are often driven by fear: 

They focus on proving worth, but in doing so, they miss the deeper truth of who we are.

This cycle, exhausting and endless, isn’t what God intends for us. There’s another way—a way rooted not in proving ourselves but in living out the identity God has already given us.

For years, my apologies were this way. They were sincere but tinged with desperation. I was striving to prove I could change, hoping to avoid rejection, but deep down, I doubted my ability to live up to my promises.

When Christ entered my life, everything changed.

I still made mistakes, of course, but I learned to apologize not from a place of striving but from identity. God had already made me new, and my behavior was simply catching up to the truth of who I was. 

Apologies became less about convincing others (or myself) that I could be better and more about confessing the truth: 

“I am learning to live like the new creation God has made me to be.”

That understanding shaped how I now approach apologies—not as a desperate attempt to fix things, but as an extension of my faith and identity in Christ.

A true apology reflects God’s heart and is rooted in humility, honesty, and faith. Here’s what that can look like:

An apology begins with fully reckoning with the impact of one’s actions. This requires humility and compassion:

“I hurt you when I said that. I’m deeply sorry for the pain I caused.”

This step reflects godly sorrow, which recognizes the harm caused by sin without spiraling into guilt or condemnation.

Taking responsibility means avoiding excuses or deflections and owning one’s choices:

“I made the decision to act that way, and it was wrong. I take full responsibility.”

This step demonstrates a commitment to truth and humility. 

An apology rooted in faith emphasizes a commitment to live according to who God has made the person to be:

“God is renewing my mind and helping me walk according to who I am in Him, not by old bad habits.”

This reflects the ongoing transformation of believers, who are called to align their behavior with their identity in Christ

A genuine apology does not hinge on the response of the other person. True apologies are acts of love and obedience to God, not attempts to secure validation or recognition.

While the ideal outcome is reconciliation, believers can rest knowing that the act of apologizing is itself an act of faith and obedience, trusting God to handle what happens next.

Apologies rooted in striving leave us stuck in cycles of guilt and doubt, but apologies rooted in identity inspire transformation and healing. They flow from truth—acknowledging harm, confessing sin, and moving forward in the grace of God.

Take a moment to think about those in your life. Who do you need to reconcile with today? Step forward boldly and offer an apology that reflects the truth of who you are in Christ.

And as you move forward, consider this: Is there someone in your life whose mistakes you’ve struggled to let go of? As new creations, we are called to see others as God sees them too.

Until next time,
Addison