Silence

There’s an uncomfortable place we don’t like to be. A place where resistance and compulsion reside together and we have to decide whether to react with grace by reigning in our emotions or release the words that are begging to be loosed from our mouths.  

Some call it tact, or the reigning in of words. I am choosing to call it the place of Silence.

We were sitting on the cold, uncomfortable bleachers at Westonka High School. Between rich laughter with my family and keeping a close eye on my 3 and 4 year old girls, we were cheering for my niece’s gymnastics meet. This was an important meet. It was the last opportunity for these young, hard-working ladies to earn a spot at the state competition. The stakes were painfully high and the nerves of some of these parents were a clear indication of the pressure those girls felt.

We happened to be sitting right behind one of those parents.

He was a large, burly man with an intimidating beard and defensive body language. Unfortunately, I didn't pick up on his intolerance for noise or distractions-I was too busy enjoying my children, my family and cheering for the athletes.

About 10 minutes before we planned to leave, this Paul Bunyan of a man turned around with a dark shadow over his eyes, looked my petite, fragile 3-year old little girl in the eyes and demanded, “Could you stop kicking me!” He didn’t shout. But he didn’t have to. His brashness was fully felt by everyone around him. He swiped a harsh glance at me and turned his back to us.

You can probably imagine what it felt like as a mother to watch my innocent, fun-loving little girl get scolded by this big scary man. I imagine there’s times in your life when you have felt the same hot, angry feelings rise in you and you want to compulsively respond with less-than-gentle words. After all, men like this have it coming, right? But, as believers we also have a resistance in moments like that. We have a built-in sensor that acts as a thermometer, in a sense. The Holy Spirit gives us access to a thermometer that helps us measure the consequences. The higher the heat of our emotions, the more damage done, if we act on them. But when we keep our emotions in check at a cooler level, we are able to release the reaction that brings the healthiest result. Think of it in terms of using a thermometer to cook meat. If you allow the meat to rise too high in temperature, it can easily become unpalatable. After all, when does a chunk of burnt meat ever please the crowd? Likewise, when prepared correctly, you can win your dinner guests over with the first tender, flavorful bite.

This is true of our response in situations like the one I experienced. Oh how I wanted to tell this man how wrong he was. How foolish he was. I wanted to remind him that picking on a tiny, vulnerable child makes him look like a fool that takes advantage of those weaker than he. But I felt that familiar sensor in my spirit reminding me that the stakes were high. What stakes? The gospel. Because as a Christian, I am not only representing my child, I am also representing Christ. I am responsible for the measure of glory I let live through me. Would yielding to my immediate emotion, extend the hand of God to this man? Or would it be a poor witness to the gospel of grace? I do think there is a time to stand up for ourselves and our children. Jesus himself was not a timid, passive man that never spoke the “harsh” truth. But even then, in his perfection, Jesus had a way of doing it that exemplified love. In that moment, I did not feel love. I knew full well my limits and my limits said there was no room for love in my words.

So instead, with shaking hands and bitting my tongue, I scooped up my precious girl and held her on my lap as she silently melted into me-with a shattered spirit. My mom once told me that when people would say rude things to her children, instead of confronting them and further embarrassing us, she would protect us and so reminding us how loved we are. I have adopted that wisdom as a mom. 

That’s what I did for my little girl.

On the drive home I talked to Naomi about this experience. She opened up about how it made her feel. We prayed together for her...and for that man. Because the thing is, as a mom, I have a greater responsibility than just teaching my kids how to defend themselves. God has entrusted me with teaching them how to love God and live by his example. I thought of how Jesus called to his Father while hanging on the cross of calvary, asking him to forgive us. Us!? The ones who brutality beat him and pounded nails through his hands and feet. He was crushed and crucified by us. But Jesus didn’t look down and say spiteful words to those standing, mocking him. He interceded for us. He prayed for us. What a profound love. That is the love I want to teach my children. That despite the fact that this man hurt my daughter so emotionally that she reverted back to stuttering her words for days, she could pray for him. Because Jesus prayed for her. Jesus loves her…and he loves that man. Most importantly, Jesus is the only one that can ever change our hearts. As she and I prayed for that man, I could see hope in her eyes. It’s as if she got a glimpse of what it looks like to love God enough to put ourselves aside and fight for the hearts of his people.

I’ll admit that when I shared this painful experience with my husband later that night, I cried and was full of frustration. My emotions were high and I wished I could tell that man how he had hurt my little girl. But I also shared how silence felt like obedience which felt like freedom. Because when we are obedient to what the Father asks of us, we are not in charge of the results. We don’t have to live with regrets and we don’t hinder the great work of God. 

Sometimes silence is the salvation message someone needs to hear. Because sometimes, grace is heard loudest through silence.

Your co-laborer in Christ,

Chels

Proverbs 15:1 A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.