The Three Hardest Words for a Leader: “I Was Wrong.”

There is a quiet ache that sits in the heart of every community, a pain that is not always spoken but is deeply felt. It’s the ache that comes when those we trust to lead us choose silence over sincerity, pride over humility, and power over presence.

Many leaders find it hard to say, “I was wrong. I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

Instead, they deflect.

They gaslight.

They spiritualize their silence.

They continue as though nothing broke while hearts bleed silently in their wake.

But here’s the truth:

Greatness is not in how right we always are.

Greatness is in how quickly we return when we realize we were wrong.

Leadership is not divinity.

It is humanity wrapped in responsibility.

And when leaders forget that they are human first, they slowly become monuments people admire from afar, but never draw close to.

If you’ve hurt someone with your words, your silence, your decisions, or your posture, let me offer you 4 ways to return not just to the people’s hearts, but also to your own.

1. Own the Offense Without Defensiveness

Do not dilute your apology with explanation. A true “I’m sorry” is not followed by “...but you should understand.” Simply say, “I hurt you. I was wrong. I see the damage. I own it.” There is beauty in raw honesty; it melts walls that silence could never penetrate.

2. Apologize in Proportion to the Impact

If you wounded someone privately, go to them personally. But if your error was public, let your repentance be just as public. People know when a wrong has been done what they wait to see is whether your humility will match your influence.

3. Ask, “How Can I Make This Right?”

This question turns apology into healing. Sometimes people don’t just want to hear sorry—they want to see a plan for change. Be willing to listen to what accountability looks like through the eyes of the wounded.

4. Stay Humble Enough to Learn from the Pain

Every offense carries a lesson. Let the pain teach you. Let the tension soften you. Let the broken moment become your birthing ground for deeper compassion. The goal is not just to apologize—it is to transform.

Dear leader,

We don’t lose credibility when we apologize.

We gain trust.

We don’t lose our throne when we bow in remorse.

We strengthen our crown.

Leadership is not in being flawless.

It is in being so secure in your calling that you can admit your humanity without shame.

Today, may we become the kind of leaders who are not just admired, but also loved.

Not just followed, but trusted.

Not just powerful, but deeply safe.

And may the words “I was wrong” become holy keys that unlock the healing our communities have long waited for.