Raspberry Iced M

As I have mentioned, I go to therapy every Tuesday. Today was no different.

8 a.m. It’s the same routine. Drive in silence. Park the car. Enter the office. Grab Kleenex. Drop my keys and phone on the couch beside me so that I’m not tempted to fidget.

We talked about something today that I hadn’t mentioned to her before.

For most of my life, I swung between two extremes. Sometimes I stayed silent when I should have spoken. Other times, I spoke up when silence would have probably served me better.

And the older I get, the more I realize that wisdom isn’t found in always speaking up or always staying quiet.

It’s found in knowing the difference.

One of the hardest lessons I have learned is that not everything deserves a response.

When something hurts, my instinct is to address it. Clarify it. Understand it. Resolve it.

But my therapist challenged me today to consider that no every offense deserves my attention…that I get to decide how much weight to give every comment, every misunderstanding, every opinion.

Sometimes responding only gives more life to something that might die on its own.

Under the right circumstance, silence is wisdom. It’s not weakness – it’s maturity.

When someone is committed to misunderstanding me.
When emotions are running high at all angles.
When I’m speaking to my own side of a story, while the other person in the conversation is only listening for an opportunity to defend him/herself.
When the conversation is producing more heat than light.

But silence isn’t always healthy. And that’s where I get tripped up. Because I spent years confusing peacekeeping with peace itself.

I stayed quiet to avoid conflict.
I swallowed feelings.
I minimized needs.
I made myself smaller so that everyone else was comfortable.

That wasn’t wisdom. That was fear. And fear disguised as peace eventually becomes resentment.

After a prayerful ride home, and a few hours of reflection, I have figured out that I should be speaking up when:

1. A boundary is being crossed repeatedly. Not because I am trying to control someone, but because remaining silent teaches them that the behavior is acceptable. Daddy used to say, “If you don’t condemn it, you condone it,” and I think that motto fits here.
2. Resentment is building. That’s often a sign that something important has gone unspoken.
3. My integrity requires it. In moments when staying silent would violate my values – when truth should matter more than comfort – I need to speak up.
4. A relationship has the capacity for repair. I believe that healthy relationships can handle honest conversations…that if someone genuinely cares about me, they will usually at least be willing to hear it, even if they do not agree with me.

And – like I said – sometimes it’s better just to “let it ride.” I love that phrase because it’s practical.

1. When the issue is with my ego – not my values.
2. When I am seeking vindication instead of resolution.
3. When the other party has already made up his/her mind.
4. When talking won’t change the outcome.
5. When I feel myself reacting emotionally instead of responding thoughtfully.

Those types of battles – for me – don’t deserve enrollment.

This exercise of decision-making is tedious. It requires that I question my motives in a very honest, direct way.

What is my goal? Do I want peace? Do I want understanding? Do I want accountability? Do I want the last word? Do I want to be right?

And the answer tells me whether I need to say something or keep my mouth shut.

To back my theory, I offer that Jesus did both. He spoke boldly when truth required it. He confronted hypocrisy, He defended the vulnerable, He corrected error. But He also remained silent at times. He didn’t clarify every accusation. He didn’t chase every critic. And He did not present for every argument. He was wise enough to know what required His voice.

As I prayed on my way home from therapy, I told Him that I am not sure if what I am doing is working or not. These days, it seems like I do the same things, talk to the same people, think about the same scenarios. I am still triggered by the same things. I’m still tempted by the same things. I find that I am praying about the same things I prayed about 10 months ago.

But I asked Him to remind me – when I start to question my progress – that none of what I am doing may be for me…or my circumstances. Yes, I would love to “feel better,” but the Lord sees things on a scale bigger than ours.

What if someone needs to watch how I transform so that they know how to do it?
What if someone reads one of my blog posts and realizes that they’re actually salvageable?
What if someone sees what I’ve survived – not beautifully or perfectly, but meaningfully – and quietly decides that their life is worth living, too?
What if someone feels comfortable enough to come specifically to me for a hug or for prayer or for a conversation because I have chosen not to hide the ugly part of flesh-breaking?

I told the Lord that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone who fails at most things. But there is something to be said for the effort He is helping me put into myself so that I can become a person I can tolerate. And it’s His grace, His mercy, His kindness, and His covenant love that have made all the difference. I take credit for none of this. More than self-discovery, more than self-acceptance, even more than self-forgiveness – He is teaching me that my life is not special because of the work I do. It is not measured by the number of epiphanies I have on any given day. And my life – and transformation therein – is not a reflection of how “sanctified” I’ve become. I am completely and wholly reliant on His sacrifice, His blood, His Word.

So it’s really important to me to do my best to handle conflict in ways that glorify Him.

Speaking up isn’t always courageous. And biting my tongue isn’t always wise. And I don’t have to make one, never-wavering choice between the two. Instead, it’s about asking, “What serves truth, peace, and integrity in this moment?” Because some situations need a voice. And others need patience. If I am being honest, I am still learning that lesson. But the process of learning it is where maturity lies. And I don’t think that effort goes unnoticed.