Cellucci, Unedited

A few weeks ago, I shared the exciting news that some of these weekly reflections would be shared on the Hallow App. This is not another post to get you to subscribe and listen, though I won’t stop you. After a good two weeks of constant affirmation from my mom and my one aunt who can use technology, I awoke early at the sound of a text message. It was from a close friend, but not one that would text me before my morning coffee: “There was a blooper in today’s recording.”

I shot up in bed and began frantically looking for my contact’s number. I sent emails to anyone I could think of. Seeing my panicked expression, Tricia asked what was wrong. “What’s the blooper?” she asked. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. Did I curse? Did I begin berating myself out loud? Neither would have been outside the realm of possibility. At my request, Tricia listened… in the other room. “It’s not bad,” she assured me and having been an avid Hallow listener, she’s noticed a hiccup once or twice on my other reflections.

Later that morning, a colleague also pinged me about the recording. I wondered how quickly my mistake might appear in the mainstream media as I began the daily breakfast routine for the younger children, sharing with them what had happened. They begged for me to play it. I refused. “Aren’t all your posts about how you mess up anyway?” Peter asked.

While the recording itself was quickly fixed, Peter’s question and my angst kept playing throughout the morning. Where was the anxiety coming from? I try to model owning my mistakes in front of others. What was different this time? The answer: I wasn’t in control of fixing the mistake. It was out there, clear as day for millions of people to hear (or maybe just for my mom, aunt, friend, and colleague to hear). In life, leadership, and discipleship, can I own the mistakes I cannot control? Can I own my responsibility in submitting the recording with the mistake in the first place? In a broken world and especially in a broken church that offers a sacrament for forgiveness, why is it so hard for me to accept and show my brokenness? Why do I try to control a narrative about who I want to be to the world, when I know — and the Lord knows — this recording of Dan Cellucci is full of bloopers? If I can’t admit my mistakes, and not only those I choose to admit, do I really believe God has the power to forgive them?

When I finally got the courage to listen, the mistaken recording was already gone. However, I decided the next time, because there will be a next time, I need to hear what I say I believe. As we begin this new week, let’s not be afraid to listen to the recording of last week and make the edits that the Lord invites us to make in order to sound how He has created us to sound.