I promise from now on to never shoot off scathing emails to Church Deacons who, even though they might have sent an incredibly rude email to me in the first place, are skilled practitioners in the Art of Guilt.
I promise to never gloat with pride afterwards at my skillful wording, thanking them sarcastically for their Christian patience. I promise to never threaten in said email to turn them in to the state tax authorities.
Because that Church Deacon might turn out to be 70 years old and paraplegic. And maybe he didn't fully understand the issue.