Confessions of a Counsellor

Some time ago I was chastised by a person I had counselled. That sounds harsh. This person spoke the truth in love. It wasn’t hard to hear, because they took great care to preface how they were endeared to the care I’d given them. But something I’d done, a way I chose to orient the counselling relationship, had potentially damaged them. It had made them feel unsafe. It was a potential abuse. And though I could see it in their feedback, I had felt justified at that time. I no longer felt justified, however. I’d tried to prioritise the safety of others and had overcompensated. I’d traded on the relationship I had with the person who was now giving me feedback. It had taken them some time to be able to have this conversation with me.

Even as I heard the words, “I need to give you some feedback, the truth in love,” I had that sinking feeling. I wondered what would come. How on earth had I failed them? I needn’t have been concerned. The feedback was delivered, as I said, with gracious aplomb.

I endeavoured to justify what I’d done, but when the impact of my behaviour was repeated back to me a second time, I had no choice; the Holy Spirit’s conviction was hot in my chest and it impressed upon me the need of what we call a 7 ‘A’ apology (address everyone hurt; avoid if, but, and maybe; admit specifically the wrong; acknowledge the hurt; accept the consequences; alter your behaviour; ask for forgiveness).

An unconditional and sincere apology was all the moment called for. Nothing less.

For the hurt I caused, whether I thought my actions were warranted at the time or not, I needed to say an unreserved sorry. I needed to prove that I could grasp how hurt this person was; how angry and betrayed they’d felt, and how until then I’d had no idea, which I admitted to them. I had to accept that, whilst I sought their forgiveness, that I could not demand it, and I certainly could not demand that they trust me again. I acknowledged, too, that even though they said they had forgiven me, that I accepted the situation that in reality they might still have a process ahead of them to feel I had been restored to them. I didn’t consider myself off the hook. I also suggested that the value of the feedback would inform the way I did counselling ministry from now on, in cases like theirs. They had wished that their feedback might impact me to this extent.

The beauty in the moment was that one person risked their love so much for truth to prevail that they risked enough to call our relationship to an even higher level of trust.

They spoke words that could have been uttered hurtfully but weren’t. They believed so much in my practice of counselling they wanted me to improve. They showed such poise to keep me safe even though I hadn’t always afforded safety to them.

I’m so grateful for this risk that love makes. I’m thankful for this person’s courage. And I’m constantly learning.

Photo by Jay Skyler on Unsplash