Lessons in humiliation and apologies

Last week's column was about Max, the head of our Kansas Thespian organization, and his repentant apology to the state representatives when he mistakenly read the wrong names as winners. It took little time for me to be personally tested on Max's example.

We are in the middle of exhausting rehearsals for our upcoming musical. Even though the high schoolers have great attitudes, dancers' legs ache, harmony is difficult, and novice actors haven't quite gotten the hang of what they are supposed to do on stage when they don't have a line. Add to that conflicting soccer and volleyball schedules, church meetings, illness, and actors who forget to show up, and most nights we are practicing with a less-than-ideal situation.

One of my jobs as director is to "block" the show. For weeks ahead of time I create stage diagrams which help me instruct characters about entrances and exits, as well as position them to balance the stage. This isn't a problem when there are only three or four acting, but when there are large numbers, it becomes increasingly difficult. More than I would like to admit, I mess up.

The other evening that was the case. Several were absent, and I was trying to plug the holes. Craig, our male lead, had just finished his line; I told him to exit through the saloon doors. He told me he wasn't supposed to leave, and I barked at him not to argue with me...to do as I said.

I went back to my director's position to listen to the rest of the dialogue. Courtney, our female lead, then began her line. She was speaking to Craig who, of course, because of my mistake, was no longer standing beside her. Consequently, her line made no sense.

Geez, I hate times like those. Can't you test me with a little less humiliation, Lord? This was no big deal for Max, but it's a huge deal for me. He didn't speak with an attitude like I did. He has less to be embarrassed about.

My inner voice went into overdrive. "You better just let this go and deal with it later. If you apologize, you will lose the respect of the cast. They'll think you're incompetent. Craig will probably roll his eyes and say, 'I told you so.'"

Fortunately, Max's lesson was fresh in my mind. I stopped the scene and asked Craig to come back on the stage. The cast was silent. "Craig, I was wrong and you were right. I am truly sorry for how I talked to you. I hope you will forgive me."

When it was the right time for Craig to exit, I followed him and apologized again...and again the next morning when I saw him in the hall. His response was humbling. "You had every right to be stressed out. People aren't showing up and you have to be frustrated."

You and I know that is no excuse. As Christians, we are being watched, and it is especially at times when we are pushed to our limit, or things aren't going as planned, or our pride rears its monstrous head and tells us we deserve more than we are getting, that it is challenging to do what God asks us to do...to destroy all pride.

The next day I heard from more than one student that my apology was a great lesson. I began to wonder if the cast members, because of this experience, would find it a little easier to ask forgiveness the next time they messed up.

Max has no idea how far-reaching his example was. I just hope, the next time I am given the opportunity, I will choose again to do the right thing.