My little brother moved in with us recently. This promises to spawn some interesting reflections since my brothers and I tend to create a resonance when together, amplifying aspects of “Kesselringness” that may already be overpowering in a single serving, much less with two, three, or four of us.
Bantering with John and his girlfriend the other night gave rise to the subject of pride – a vice of which my brothers and I may have been charged once or twice. (cough, ahem!) Such a charge is notoriously difficult to combat, since the beginning of a defense seems to further seal the prosecution’s case. In many such cases, of course, it is right and good simply to admit guilt and take your lashings. After all, who is really free of pride? Tim Keller has pointed to the shyness of humility, noting how any successful attempt at reformation, when observed, so easily becomes an occasion for feeling smug and noting our smugness may even impress us with our own sensitivity. We’re just digging a hole. Better to confess and shut up, eh?
Silence is attractive, if difficult. Our need for more of it is seen in exhortations like James 1:19, “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” and wisdom like, “When words are many, transgression is not lacking.” (Pr 10:19)
Yet, while one hardly wishes to pit himself against such wisdom, I also fear silence. I’m afraid some of us may learn to ape the manners of meekness and assume we have its heart. I’m afraid our silence may peek out from hearts bent more on protecting our image than loving others.
I know this by experience. As a tag-along, kid brother hanging with with the highschoolers, I would routinely come home mentally flogging myself for babbling like a fool. Buttressed by Proverbial reminders that, “a chattering fool comes to ruin,” I committed myself to silence and had some success. I would only speak if there was no chance of being proven wrong.
It took half of college to realize I was missing opportunities to grow – and opportunities to love. My silence stemmed from selfishness. If we only speak when we are absolutely certain, we shut ourselves off from others when we need them most. We need others when we have doubts. We need others when our ideas are half-baked. A reserved silence may have the form of godly humility but may, in fact, be a form of isolating ourselves in pride. To this, Solomon would warn, “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgment.” (Pr 18:1) We know pride when it struts itself in pontification. Can we recognize it when it goes underground as a type of protectionism?
A selfish silence built on risk-aversion also misses opportunities to love. Perspective, properly offered, can be a precious gift. That parent may think their child’s rebellious behavior is normal, until a friend says, “She’s really out-of-control.” That overweight friend may think nothing of taking thirds until someone who loves him asks, “Is that helpful?” We cannot afford to wait for a philosophically impenetrable certainty to speak any more than a lifeguard should wait until a floundering swimmer has sunk to dive in.
Am I then encouraging unrestrained bombast? Is this a manifesto for the mouthy? Please, no! Most of us know the pain of being on the wrong end of someone’s dogmatism; however, I actually think the twin errors of two much talk and too little may flow from the same stream. Not only are both motivated by self-interest rather than love, but both of them work from the principle mentioned earlier that one should only speak when absolutely certain he can avoid successful contradiction. The only difference is the mouthy person has a lot more he is “absolutely certain” about.
What I am suggesting is that our communication should be a lot more variegated. Sometimes you will insist strongly from a clear Scripture text. Other times you will speak firmly from biblical principles, but be open to tweaking. Other times you will offer tentative thoughts. All of these have value, even though they vary in certainty. Perspectives can be provisional and still profoundly impacting. As you grow in humility, you will be hesitant to speak so insistently; but, please, for my sake, don’t quit speaking completely. If you can communicate your thoughtful opinion with openness that you might be wrong, you will have free access to my heart.
Lowly Heart 