GRACE OVER HITS (thanks for not filming)

Thank you, random stranger, for not filming me.

 

I know messed up. I know was wrong. Maybe it was in traffic, or perhaps it was at the grocery store. Maybe on the sidewalk, or in the park. Perhaps I didn’t pay attention to someone in need, or said words that hurt someone. You saw it. You were there. And I know—it wasn’t a good look.

 

That’s why I say thanks for not filming me. Because it had probably been one of those days. The kind of day where work drained every drop of patience I had left. The kind of week where a loved one’s illness gnawed at the back of my mind. Maybe I was quietly walking through high-functioning depression—outwardly capable, inwardly almost falling apart. Or I was grieving a loss, wrestling with guilt, feeling invisible, unheard, overwhelmed.

 

These are not excuses for my behaviours -- I admit I could have done better. But it helps to explain what was going on. I acted outside of what I believe is correct. I didn’t think clearly. I missed the mark.

And you… didn’t film it. You didn’t post it. If you did, you might have even stopped filming before I apologized. Or cut things out of the context. You didn’t want to reduce me to a snippet that, had it gone viral, could have defined me in the worst, not whole, way. In a culture hungry for cancellation and public humiliation, you chose grace over exposure. Thank you for that.

 

Because of your lack of appetite for jolts of online dopamine and visibility, you gave me something I am thankful for: the chance to go home and, far from the public spotlight, to reflect, repent, and seek forgiveness. Real forgiveness. The kind that doesn’t erase what happened but redeems it. And that prompts me to find ways of seeking to restore what I did wrong, if and where possible.

 

That’s what I needed. What we all need. We need the Word that comes to heart and says, “but where sin abounded, grace abounded much more.”(Romans 5) Christ’s work reminds us that everyone can fall. And everyone can be raised by His forgiveness. But no one deserves to be simply reduced to a 15-second definition of character. 

 

In a world where embarrassing moments become content, it means a lot to choose grace over hits. So thank you, stranger, for taking the spotlight away from my weakness. For seeing my failure but not capturing it. For letting grace—not likes, not judgment—have the final word. I hope I can extend the same mercy when I witness someone else’s worst moment. 

 

And by God’s Spirit, grow in Jesus so that my acts may reflect God’s kindness and love.

 

(Pastor Lucas Albrecht)