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Would Jesus say, ‘I’m sorry’?

Would Jesus say, 'I'm sorry'
Have you learned what it means to be a minister of reconciliation yet? So many of us major on truth, but don’t know how to show love. I, for one, am sorry for that. Melinda Guerra’s conversation with her aunt along these lines was beautiful. I think we need to find ways to humble ourselves in …
By Seth Barnes
Im sorryHave you learned what it means to be a minister of reconciliation yet? So many of us major on truth, but don’t know how to show love. I, for one, am sorry for that.
Melinda Guerra’s conversation with her aunt along these lines was beautiful. I think we need to find ways to humble ourselves in the name of love as she did. She did it by donning a black shirt that proclaimed
“I’m sorry.”  She shares it here:
The idea was to use the shirts as a conversation starter(Which oh, they were), apologizing to the LGBT community for the way the church has treated them… to apologize for people who shout hate and for the judgment Christians have thrown at them.  It was a good day, the kind after which I go home and feel like I have just been able to catch a glimpse of what heaven looked like, and feel strangely fulfilled.
I love the shirt.
And I haven’t quite stopped wearing it.
One day when I was wearing the shirt, my aunt (who has been an out lesbian for as long as I can remember) asked me what I was sorry for. We were hanging out with a few other family members, telling jokes and making cracks on each other over lunch.  I looked at her and said I was sorry for the way the church has often shoved the LGBT community outside of our doors, rather than welcoming them in.  And sorry for the pain that’s caused.  And sorry that not enough people looked into her eyes
and said they loved her and that God loved her and that she shouldn’t have to be afraid of being hurt by the people who love Jesus.  
She started crying.
Sobbing.
There, in the middle of the restaurant, my aunt (we say we’re each other’s favorites, but we’re not allowed to tell anyone else…) was broken because of a t-shirt I was wearing, and it opened the door for a question she’d never before asked me:
Have you ever been ashamed of me?
 
I… what?!  No!
And out came the story… the reason she never came to the parties I invited her to… the services i invited her to… my graduation… hanging out with my friends…   All this time, she’d known about my faith and thought, at some place deep inside, that even though we had a blast when we were hanging out together, that something would change if I took her around my friends… that I’d find a reason to be ashamed of being seen with her.
That knocked the wind clear out of me.
For as much as I loved my aunt…  For as much as I invited her to every special event in my life… For as much as I envied her ability to be exactly who she is and never give it a second thought… For as much as I found unconditional acceptance in her arms…  She wondered if I would feel those same things in my communities of friends, seeing as how they were largely Christian and Christians happened to be the people who judged and shoved her the most.
I looked at her and told her that on the contrary, that it had been my relationship with her that has made me vocal in those same communities about the way Christians treat the LGBT community. Because she matters and because she’s taught me to see that every single person matters.  And if they won’t matter to the world at large, they’ll matter
to me.  

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