Liz: The Whole Truth

I've often categorized myself inwardly as a coward when it comes to conflict.  Friends and family would laugh at this because I do have strong opinions coupled with a too-quick temper inherited from the Dutch on my father's side.  But deep down, I want everybody to like me.  I want to say things that people agree with so that conversation flows easily.  As a minister, this becomes especially tricky from the pulpit, because, with so many hearers there is bound to be someone who doesn't like what you've got to say.  But err on the side of caution and the message becomes watered down, irrelevant, and boring.   There is nothing wishy-washy about the Bible.  Yet for every individual who reads it the Spirit makes possible a new understanding--this is why it is called the Living Word.  And why it is so powerfully unifying and divisive all at the same time.

As a person with strong opinions who is also a pastor, I find disagreements on Biblical interpretation, politics, and 'hot-button' issues difficult to navigate in a diplomatic way.  I desire to be authentic but to also be able to minister to those who disagree with me.  It is a fine line to walk.

I recently had an interview for a job with a committee.  At one point I was asked to put in writing how I feel about a divisive issue, and knew that my response would be read and considered by this group.  I knew also that at least some, and probably the majority, would disagree with my views.  The small person inside me who wants to be liked was in turmoil.  I considered pretending I didn't understand the question.  I considered saying I was undecided.  I considered skipping town. I considered concocting some 'middle of the road' answer that would please everyone, or telling them only a piece of the truth, stopping just short of saying the actual words.  I considered telling them I'd found another position.  But then this impeccable business came into my mind, and I knew it was only right to tell the truth, the whole truth, even though it meant the probable loss of the job opportunity.

So I answered:  honestly and fully.  And I didn't get the job.  And I am really just fine with that.  But the best part came afterward.  A few days later I was approached by a member of the committee, who told me he felt the same as I did about this issue but has felt nervous about sharing it openly.  He said that my words really helped him understand his own feelings and gave him courage to express them in the presence of God and his neighbors.  Because I was so concerned about how I would be affected, it hadn't occured to me that my words spoken in truth might help another. 

I learned from this that the rewards of our impeccable speech are not always for ourselves (in fact they may cause suffering or loss), but truth spoken with kindness and firmness can lift others up, bolster their faith, and offer encouragement where none has been before.