It was her birthday, her special lunch, and yet she debated and waned when asked to choose a restaurant. Her mother waited, letting the teenager pick her preference. Yet the girl sighed indecisive, leaving them both hungry and grumpy, angst to make a choice. Then her mother, in wisdom, spoke: "Speak the truth in love." In quick, confident reply, the daughter named a restaurant and off to enjoy the day they went.
Speak the truth in love. I hear this phrase and think: confrontation, conflict, conversations; big daunting episodes, tactful words spent hours composing, and mustered courage in the face of hard. I picture it in the context of elders and pastors, or a friend boldly fearful to a friend, both in angst mixed with bravery, the outcome a paralyzed unknown.
But perhaps, sometimes, its much simpler than that. Perhaps it is freeing in the smaller context, in the miniscle decisions and chatter of everyday. Perhaps it is life-giving in those, for it releases forward motion, vision, commitment, confidence. It takes out the wariness of indecision and lends to belief, fulfillment and
action.
I think of it in the context of food. How many times don't Mark and I wrestle with where to go for Saturday lunch? Both afraid to make a decision, worried it may not be what the other desires, we simultaneously circle options as time ticks, until either we are frustrated or don't care where we go, and still end up unsure if the other is happy in the end. Slightly ridiculous, right? But what if one of us just spoke up and said, "I'd like Qudoba" and away we went, skipping the whole ordeal. We'd both be much happier, the relationship would have no worry, and seriously, in the end, food is food, right?
Or think about friendships and all those little decisions that require a final answer, yet neither party commits to one in fear of being overbearing, too forward, a burden, or falsely selfish. Like: coffee or tea? my place or yours? Friday or Sunday? talk or play? pizza or burgers? Sometimes, what if instead of being fearful to ask for that cup of French Press coffee or swing kids at Freedom Park or eat lunch at Poppy's, we just spoke the truth of what we wanted, and perhaps in speaking that truth, it releases love.
We often fear to speak the truth in worry of being selfish. In Christian subculture, the aversion to selfishness is Biblical, and humility is honored. This is good, yet perhaps we've swung too far. The pendulum lending instead to weak-minded, timid, and uncommitted. But, remember oh Christ-followers, that "God did not give us a spirit of timidity but of power of love and of a sound mind." II Timothy 1:7
The contrast in Ephesians 4 shows the opposite, relating the ambiguous and indecisive to infants, helpless, needy, and weak. It continues exposing such as "tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people..." (v14). It concludes that without truth, without backbone, one is lent to "futility of the mind" and indulgence, and even can give the devil a foothold!
Now, rest assured, speaking the truth in love does not give allowance for bluntness, unfiltered wisdom, or sharp words. For the rest of Ephesians 4 billows into a framework for what Paul signifies as signs of mature believers -- sanctified of slander, bitterness, and greed and bearing instead compassion, forgiveness, and the attitude of Christ.
Coming back to the small things -- the daily practices of speaking truth in love. Perhaps committing to these these little decisions, these mundane choices, these tiny preferences, not only free us in the moment but set us up to make the bigger commitments, the weightier decisions, the imperative outcomes in the long run.
