I was probably twelve years old, seated on my dad’s worn, plush, green velvet couch. I remember lying back against the arm with my knees as close to my chest as possible without looking too nervous. At the time, visits with my dad had become very limited and were always paired with additional adult supervision. He was never putting us in immediate danger, but he was a danger to himself, and he was under the influence often enough that addiction was steering the wheel of most of his decision making.
In our beige open floor living room sat my sister, my dad, and my mom covered in the hazy, natural afternoon light of the large sliding glass window that covered the back wall. We had all sat down because I had something I wanted to talk to my dad about. My mom had arranged the meeting and really been the one to steward the conversation, but she was empowering me to approach my dad about a specific conflict. As much as I did feel hurt by my dad, I had little to no practice in using my voice or standing up for myself. Even now, I’d usually rather not say anything and just deal with my feelings alone rather than face the possibility of another person being upset with me.
Man, I hate conflict. Whatever I was frustrated with my dad about is arbitrary because I don’t even remember if we made progress after that conversation. All I know is that I spoke my mind, and the entire time I cried and felt like there was a giant, dark pit in my stomach.
Confronting people when there is a problem has never been my thing. Most of my life, I’ve actually actively avoided as much confrontation as possible. My rationale being that it’s just easier to swallow my hurt and move on than it is to confront someone and have them feel anything but good things about me. I guess maybe it all stems from a belief that I’m not really worthy of better treatment from other people anyway. Now, I’m always trying to grow and be better, so I’m working on that. I do know I am worth being loved and treated well, but, my friend, it is a journey.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately in the spirit of growth, my job and calling involve a whole lot of conflict resolution. The Biblical and Jesus-like way of handling conflict involves going to the source. If you have a problem with someone, it’s your job to address that with the source. It’s one of the few things that Jesus is actually pretty clear about in what we have recorded. In fact, I think that if ministry has stretched me in any way, and it has in lots and lots of ways, my conflict resolution skills are probably the area where I have felt the most growth. Or at least the most stretching.
I don’t like it. I never did. I never will. I think you have to be a little out of your mind to actually look forward to addressing conflict. I am out of my mind in some ways, but I definitely don’t look forward to sitting down to have difficult conversations.
That being said, I try to love people as best as I can. I try to protect my soul as best I can. I want to be the person who has the difficult conversations in order to love others and myself well. Doesn’t mean it’s easy. Doesn’t mean it’s clean. In fact, I had a real fresh reminder of just how messy loving and disciplining people really can be this week.
The details of the conversation and its participants aren't relevant, but loving them as best as I can is. What’s relevant is how much I thought, “Wow, this is messy,” after leaving that table. What’s relevant is how I also had the thought, “I want to be willing to have this conversation over and over, if that’s how I love them best.” I'm not convinced that love does require that of me in this circumstance, but if it does, I'll be listening to that.
I know I’m not at all the master of this topic. Honestly, even though this blog is built on values of authenticity and vulnerability, there is conflict I’m working through right now, or that arose years ago that I don’t feel comfortable confronting let alone writing about. I’m not a professional conflict resolver, but I do want to keep growing in that area. I want to always be the friend, family member, coworker, and neighbor that chooses to have the hard conversations with you because I love you. I’d always rather be the person you are frustrated with because I was honest with you rather than the friend who just tells you what I think you want to hear. I care about representing Jesus to you and others well, and I care about the nature and growth of our relationship.
I want those words to be true of anyone that matters to me. I want those words to be true of people that irritate me. I want that to be true about people I work with and learn with. I genuinely want that to be true about the cashier at Meijer or person I pass on the sidewalk. I want to add value to the conversations I am a part of and leave people feeling loved. That’s all I’m trying to do. It’s tough work. But work that I think is worthy of pursuing.
I don’t know where you’re at or what conflict you have in your life. I don’t know who you’re frustrated with or what issues you need to address. I know what some of them are for me. I know that the healthiest and most productive way to really solve difficult problems is to have difficult conversations. It’s not fun. I don’t want to do it. But to the best of my ability, I will.
Would you consider joining me? Maybe if we all commit to doing this better we will have richer, deeper relationships and as a result the world will be filled with a little more light, love, and goodness. Maybe I’m crazy, but I think that’s worth fighting for. So I will keep doing that. What about you?
You are truly and deeply loved
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