A few days later, I was having my quiet time, and I couldn’t pray. All I could think about was this man that I knew God wanted me to straighten things out with. I tried to resist it. Finally I said, “Okay God, You ve forgiven me. Now I want to pray for Sandra and the kids….” But that didn’t work. It was like God was saying, “Andy, you’re not blameless. You’re hiding something.” And I remember thinking, But its complicated, and it was so long ago, and it is probably no big deal by now.… And on and on I went. But the impression was so strong. I finally concluded that it would be a lot easier to deal with it than to continue arguing with God.
So I got in my car without the slightest idea what I was going to do. I just had to make things right with this fellow and his family. So I drove to his house. Then I drove past his house. Then I drove past his house again. It took me a long time to get up the nerve to stop. I can’t recall another time in my adult life when I’ve been so nervous about something. I didn’t know if he’d be angry, or if he’d just think I was crazy. For all I knew, he would call the police.
Finally, I parked in the driveway, walked up to the door, and rang the doorbell—hoping nobody would answer. But the man came to the door and looked at me with the most confused look you can imagine. And rightly so. I had never been to his house before. We were never close friends. And I hadn’t seen him in years.
“Andy? What in the world are you doing way out here? Come on in.”
I was dying. He didn’t have a clue why I was there. Which meant he didnt know what I had done. Otherwise, he would have thrown me off his property—or so I thought.
As soon as I sat down, I blurted out, “I’ve come to apologize.” And he just stared at me. He still didn’t know. So I said it again. Primarily because I was afraid if I didn’t just start, I would lose my nerve. I told him what I had done. And I told him how sorry I was. He kept staring at me. If he had stood up and knocked me across the room, I think I would have felt 100 percent better. I certainly deserved it. So I told him that, too. Any response from him was totally justified in my mind.
When I finished, he smiled and said, “You know, I had a feeling it was you.
Now you have to understand, I had carried this for years. And all along, this person had a hunch that I was behind an event that had caused him a great deal of pain and expense. As long as I live, I’ll never forget what this gentleman said at the end of our conversation. He looked at me and said, “Andy, this makes me feel good all over.” I saw release in his eyes. The healing process was complete. We all had a good cry, and I left. — Louder Than Words: The Power of Uncompromised Living by Andy Stanley