Every once in a while there are those words that seem to just stick with you and you are struck by their profundity. Perhaps because they relate to a current circumstance in your life, and the weight of them feels like gold in the middle of a recession. At any other time the words would have fallen in your hands like coins at the end of a rainbow: valuable, yes, but their worth minimized, or at least taken for granted, given the context.
Or perhaps the wisdom found in whatever sentiment was shared is infinitely profound, but you had no means to test its inherent truth. What value is it for a child to learn about a moths ability to blend rather seamlessly into the bark of a tree until that child discovers that moths are hunted by birds? Suddenly the value of camouflage can not only be understood, but it makes perfect sense. Even to such an extent that any other way for an insect to attempt disguise would seem inferior.
Knowledge can communicate truth, but only wisdom can make it palpable.
I recently came across a Sunday morning teaching by Andy Stanley on parenting. Given that we have two little girls, then any time we can take a nod from a pastor on parenting, we should indeed do just that. We were rather delighted to find that the words shared were not quite “ordinary”, at least in the way we’ve received parenting tidbits so far, and rather relevant to areas well outside of parenthood. As a matter of fact, the nugget I dug out from his words brought me to a different set of relationships entirely.
Intimacy breeds conflict. You may have heard the sentiment before, and it’s a good reminder to not fear conflict in relationships. Although if we’re being real with ourselves we could very well say that “Intimacy inevitably breeds conflict, but relationships of any kind have the potential for conflict.” So if we are to anticipate conflict as a natural part of human relationship, we most certainly would have been taught how to deal with it, yes?
This is the point at which I began to consider the weight of Stanley’s words, who exerted the idea that perhaps most adults have indeed not been taught the way to deal with conflict. The way of relationship restoration.
I tried to keep from immediately pointing the finger – as we so often do when listening to a pastor, and so no one really learns anything – reflecting on the times I have perhaps said “I’m sorry” without being willing to move beyond alleviating my own guilt. Where the following question should have then been “What can I do to make it up to you?”
Relationship restoration.
Something was broken. Did I long to see it mended? Something had collapsed. Did I hope to see it rebuilt? Surely what was will not be forgotten, and I perhaps now seen in a less than favorable light, but the offense does not need to define all that is to come. Where there was trust, there can be trust again. Where there was honor, there can be honor again. Though it would cost me great amounts of humility to acknowledge that a simple “I am sorry” would not do, leaving enormous gaps for an embittered spirit or for mistrust to loom over every following word or conversation.
Although after all my effort to first take an inward glance, I found my mind reseated on a white plastic chair, a scene in my story I will not soon forget. Words hovered over me, posing as truth while I crumpled under the weight of the falsehood laid on me. Weeks had passed, heaviness was my night light, and seated once more – this time in a wooden chair with a nice hot latte – those very words used to push me away were acknowledged as being misleading. An apology was offered, and with all eyes turned in my direction, as though waiting for my response, I fumbled for words to say. Something about wanting truth to be a part of the conversation, or something, but I had to simply stop myself. “I’ll receive that” was about all else I could get out.
Except something still wasn’t right. Does an “I am sorry” make it all better? Is this where you need to opt for forgiveness and hope that somehow you will have the maturity to “let bygones be bygones”? Something was indeed broken. Something had certainly collapsed.
To walk away from the ruins with an apology in your pocket suddenly seems a poor antidote for a mended relationship. Apologies are merely bandaids waiting for the effort of healing to begin.
Now all that is left to acknowledge is who is responsible for leading the healing?
I think upon that time and all the interactions and discourse that followed once the recognition of an offense was made. Suddenly it was so clear to me that relationship restoration was not at the heart of moving forward. Rather a severing seemed the way at hand, and not just with me, but with those attached to me.
Perhaps it is indeed easier, or at least, less risky, to let a relationship subside that has band-aid covered wounds, than to admit one poised for infection to the care of humility.
That is except to recognize the greater risk in loss of the relationship itself.
EXPOSITION: Think on how you deal with conflict. Do you typically hope that a “sorry” will suffice, or do you find yourself engaging in the long work of healing as far as it depends on you?
RISE: “What can I do to make it up to you?” Even since hearing these words I have had to take them to heart and offer them up. Although by no means an easy swap for an “I am sorry”, they are indeed a beginning.
DENOUEMENT: “Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with.” (A letter from James, The Message)