I’m not very good at it.
Being a semi-good story teller doesn’t necessarily make me a good communicator, particularly when it comes to speaking truth in love. Unfortunately, sometimes my love-truth spends a little too much time fermenting in frustration and comes out covered in emotional barbs.
I lack practice in truth-speaking because I’m afraid of it. I prefer to avoid conflict and I still care whether people like me! Though I’m actively working to resist it, I’m sometimes motivated by my fear of anger and rejection. Too often my words and actions are filtered through the grid of people-pleasing. Unfortunately, my truth-speaking comes easiest when I’m emotionally charged.
I remember a comment made by a British entertainer: “You Americans are so touchy and easily offended. You take yourselves far too seriously.” I think we generally know this about ourselves, and our culture; it hinders us from daring to confront in love.
Christians are too easily offended as well. We get our feathers in a ruffle if someone dare suggest we might need a little spoken-truth. John Bevere’s book introduces the idea that offense is The Bait of Satan.
Many of us have a very difficult time receiving truth especially spoken from the lips of fallible human beings. Nothing rouses offense like some flawed hot-mess pointing out our teeny-tinny flaws.
Offense is not only a natural byproduct of being human. Offense is deadly.
Offense is a baited-trap to ensnare us so Satan can dismantle unity and weaken the body of Christ.
Through offense, Satan disrupts and impedes kingdom growth and our kingdom purpose.
In Ephesians 4, Paul urges Christians to grow up. He tells us to put away falsehood and speak truth to each other so that we can grow up into the full measure of Christ–emulating not only His actions but also His character.
Marriage provides good practice for this–a brutal boot camp that never ends! My husband and I were in a rather animated conversation once. Okay, we were in a big fight that went south rather quickly.
There was a lot of truth being flung around our 25 foot RV that night in the middle of the woods. I was so upset that I refused to get in bed with him; choosing instead to sit at the table with my head in the crook of my arm and shiver-sleep. He, on the other hand, well, let’s just say his snoring was a metronomic reminder that my dramatics were wasted. My chattering teeth eventually ate through my pride and sometime before dawn I crawled into bed with the enemy!
Somewhere in my husband’s upbringing he determined it was necessary to avoid confrontation, regardless of the significance of the relationship or the degree of the behavior. Being one of ten children may have influenced his belief that superficial peace was preferable to conflict-riddled honesty. His motto: Pick your own nose and keep your finger out of other people’s faces.
I grew up with a spasmodic communication style. Silence. Pressure. Blow. Retreat. Silence. Pressure. Blow. Retreat. I had a very difficult time navigating our relationship by his rules. Trust me, I really tried to fit in–that’s what trauma survivors do. I’d pretend things didn’t bother me. I’d forcefully hum my way through situations that I would rather have talked out.
To be fair, he had his challenges with my style as well. (I think we’re improving!)
About every six months I’d become so backed-up with truth that I felt like I would explode if I couldn’t unpack some of it. My need for emotional honesty and vulnerable connection was too great. I had come too far in my journey out of disfunction to welcome avoidance.
My unpacking usually began with one small thing: When you don’t give me eye contact it makes me feel like you’re angry with me. So far so good, right? But if he didn’t acknowledge or respond , which was usually the case, my litigious brain would kick into gear and I would enter my carefully tagged exhibits–examples of other things he did to create emotional disconnection.
My evidence combined with my multi-layered, multiloculated communication style overwhelmed him. He’d feel ambushed and would start throwing self-protective truth-grenades. Emotional carnage ensued.
Such was the case that night in the quiet woods. By the way, have you ever tried to yell in a hushed voice? Not at all easy and definitely not attractive–just sayin’.
The following morning we picked up the pieces and prayerfully (with repentance) recovered the real truth in the truth we had flung at each other. We agreed that there was a better way to communicate truth.
Is it easy? No. But it’s essential.
As humans we find balance very challenging. We think balance comes from the architecture of spiritual algorithms, which are born of our skewed reasoning and fueled by our affinity for and need to control, measure, assess and evaluate.
But balance comes from the pace of a Spirit-ordered walk of grace and truth. It sounds over-simplistic doesn’t it?
We have to be prayerful about Speaking the truth in love because there is a God-determined priority of transformation in each of our lives. One of the lessons I learned in Experiencing God is that we are to join God in what He is doing around us–according to His plan–rather than asking Him to join us in achieving ours.
Jesus reveals this Father-led-transformation priority in nearly every sinful-man encounter recorded in scripture. Of the woman caught in adultery, Jesus demonstrated that Her spiritual void was higher in priority than her moral conduct so He offered her grace. But grace is always followed by truth. In her case He concluded with Now go and live differently.
Grace and Truth are activated by the Holy Spirit and empowered by love.
Therefore, laying aside falsehood, speak truth, each one of you, with his neighbor, for we are members of one another. Eph. 4:25