My Bad

My first job was as a waiter at a retirement facility. I was 15 years old, and I was an instant success with the residents, with the exception of one: 94-year-old Mr. Stern. He didn’t notice my incredible, youthful smile, nor was he the least bit impressed with all the wit and charm I possessed at such a young age. Every time I served him that summer, there was an issue. One evening (it was 3:30 p.m. because that was dinnertime) I took his order. I came to refill his coffee, and he asked why the food was taking so long. While he usually asked that question, I looked at my watch and saw that it was taking a little longer than usual. I checked in the kitchen and the cooks weren’t working on his table. Reaching into my pocket, I felt a piece of paper. Oh no. I had forgotten to submit the ticket. This was no kitchen delay. This was my fault.

I immediately gave it to the cooks and pleaded for them to help me out. The walk back to Mr. Stern’s table felt like a plank on a pirate ship. “I’m so sorry sir,” I said bracing for impact, “they lost the ticket back there.” He stared at me for what felt like an eternity. “They who?” He asked. “Which they?”

It was as if he was staring through my soul. “They me,” I said sheepishly. Mr. Stern continued his interrogation, “How would Dwayne, Brian, and John feel if they knew you just threw them under the bus? ‘They’ is always someone.”

Years later, a young waitress pulled the same stunt with me and my family while we waited an hour for our food. I found myself trying to replicate Mr. Stern’s speech with a little more charity as my children lowered their heads in embarrassment. I also found myself reflecting on all the times I try to shirk my culpability using ambiguous language or faceless “theys.”

As a leader and a disciple, how willing am I to model responsibility for what doesn’t go right? Whether it’s a poor outcome or a simple mistake, do I seek to redirect or to contextualize before I simply say, “It’s my fault.” The Lord never tires of forgiving the penitent, but His words are probably stronger than Mr. Stern’s for the unrepentant.

Though our waitress was happy to see me leave that day, I felt like the lesson I got at 15 was one worth sharing. As we move forward this week in the promise of God’s mercy, let’s be people of responsibility and own the phrase, “my bad.” Prayers for whatever wrong you might need to own this week!