“Apology not accepted.”
It was the dumbest, most unreasonable email I’ve ever sent. It was 2010, and I hardly remember what happened, but I know I was fuming. The National French Exam hadn’t mailed my tests on time, and my students were at risk of losing something they’d worked so hard to achieve. Every year, they’d placed in the top ten regionally, and twice nationally, for French. Hence my venomous three-word email to whichever customer service representative had been assigned to Anna Danforth that day.
There is no way forward with “apology not accepted” people. Conflict resolution becomes a dead end, and hope for forward movement dims. That day, I was the problem.
That email is a window into the beast that comes alive in us when we feel cornered. It’s when that fearful question creeps in, “What happens to me if this doesn’t go my way?” Maybe you’re not fuming at a customer rep—maybe it’s your teammate who took credit for your work, your organization that increased your fundraising needs (again), or your director’s endless conflict avoidance.
The instruction to “live charitably” is a truth God knew that we needed spelled out. Whether in three-word emails, cold shoulders, or unexplained relational disruptions, He knew the arrogance we’d battle in our hearts. He knew the way we would destroy each other when the things we hold dear are threatened.
Why is it so hard to live charitably when the direction of your program is on the line? To live in unity when your teammate is causing friction? To assign best motive to the person who pulled from your donor team? To let love cover a multitude of sins—not abuse, but annoyance—when that person interrupts you in every single meeting? Humility goes hand in hand with unity (Ephesians 4:1-7), but how do we get there in a broken world, in a broken church?
I was confronted with the why last week as I prepared for a Bible study on Philippians 2. Words I’d memorized in high school suddenly became distasteful. Have one mind? Count others more significant than yourself? Paul’s call to humility and unity grated on me, and for good reason.
What if the person demanding my humility is the one abusing power?
I have my own scars from misuse of power by several in positions of authority in the church or Christian organizations. I know the feeling of being told not to “gossip” about leadership when addressing concerns and of cowering at the thought of losing someone’s support for speaking up when people in their care were being wronged. Before I knew how to be “innocent as doves and wise as serpents,” I worked hard to maintain humility, peace, and harmony at high costs—staying long past the point of harm to myself and others.
What, biblically, am I called to do in these situations? I had to know the answer. If you’re bracing yourself because you’ve been told that your resistance is a spiritual problem, here is what I learned.
- Humility does not call me to ignore evil (Ephesians 5:11, Isaiah 1:17).
- Humility does not call me to be a doormat (Matthew 23, John 7:1-10, Luke 4:30, Acts 9:23-25).
- Humility does not call me to trust without discernment (Proverbs 26:24-25, Proverbs 25:19).
- Humility does not call me to preserve false peace (Galatians 2:11-14).
- Humility does not call me to stay in abusive relationships (John 10:39, 2 Timothy 3:1-5). Dear missionary, this applies even if you’ll lose your entire ministry or half your support.
- Humility does not call me to enable manipulation (John 2:23-25, Titus 3:10-11).
- Humility does not call me to accept spiritual coercion (Matthew 23:4, 1 Peter 5:1-3, Galatians 2:4-5).
Wrestling with what humility is not became a crucial step to understanding what humility is.
Humility is reasonable. Paul goes on to say, “Let your reasonableness be known to everyone” (Philippians 4:5). It’s the mark of someone rooted—someone who trusts in their core that God will supply all our needs (Philippians 4:9).
Reasonable people aren’t easily threatened. They still face threats and loss, but differently. Their peace is staked on something bigger than a customer service rep’s reply or the appeasement of a self-preserving leader.
Humility is caring. The patient unity we’re called to creates space for growth, for grace, and for mirroring our Father to each other. Caring people are patient with mistakes. They understand life is full of the curveballs—the twists and turns that shake us but also grow us.
Humility is confident. It’s remaining firm on core truths and holding things in tension. Confident people don’t need center stage. Their worth isn’t set in specific outcomes but in being grounded in truth while considering new angles and being curious about different approaches.
Humility is discerning. That’s something I lacked both in my email and in every fight for false peace. The customer service rep who missed a deadline isn’t the same thing as your leader silencing your concerns. You may be fuming at both. But one deserves grace. The other deserves directness.
That’s the humility I’m after—not a doormat, but a balance of grace and truth in the sticky situations of our lives.
