Plainly

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

 

    I once had an hour-long conversation with a man who could neither hear nor speak. Deprived as we were, both of us, of the ordinary mechanisms of conversation, we sought out the most effective means at our disposal. Napkins and placemats disappeared at an alarming rate under the onslaught of pen and pencil – written word was the way to go. One thing we learned rather quickly: buzzwords and slang and doubletalk were of no use to us. This conversation would either be in plain words, or it would be a waste of an hour.

     It’s the nature of language to change. New things come along, and we need nouns for them: email, text, instant message. Nouns grow verb-appendages: emailing, texting, messaging. Language changes when words from another language are more descriptive, or just prettier: “reconnaissance” instead of “lookin’ around.” Language changes as each generation hopes to have certain words it can claim: “groovy” is taken already (for better or worse). Dialects develop within a language: y’all, you’uns, and yous all mean the same thing; it only matters where in this country you’re standing at the moment whether you’re understood. Language changes, for sure (fer sher?), but have you noticed that the pace of change has quickened tremendously in recent years? Have you wondered why?

     If you could charge a hundred bucks for each new word that gets circulated and adopted into our language, or has had its meaning shifted or reversed, you’d be swimming in cash. I don’t know who, exactly, you’d charge, but if the billing could be worked out, it might be the most lucrative business plan on the planet. On a recent trip to Half Price Books – in my world, there’s always a good reason to go to Half Price Books – but on this trip I was on a laser-guided mission to purchase the oldest print dictionary on the shelf, so that, ten years from now I can point to a word and say, “See? It used to mean this!” The proper use of language has become like trying to hit a bullet with a bullet.

     Best I can tell, there are basically two reasons for communicating. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll keep them in you-and-me terms. One reason for communicating is to make myself understood. The other reason for communicating is for you to gain understanding. Did they sound almost the same to you? Probably. Here’s the subtle but essential difference: the first is for my benefit; the second is for yours.

     The first reason is mostly one-way: I put the information out there, and assume the putting of it got the job done, or more precisely, I put the responsibility of understanding on you. If you don’t get it – hey, not my fault. As long as I use the right words, or say them often or loudly enough, how could I possibly be misunderstood? This method is bound to work sooner or later, so I keep using it.

     The second reason for communicating is mostly two-way: I put the information out there, but won’t know if you’ve understood until you say or do something that indicates one way or the other. The responsibility for your understanding is on me. I won’t know if you got it until you say so, and if you don’t, I’ll commit to a method that keeps looking for ways for you to gain understanding.

     Which method, do you think, is more loving?

     We have so many things to figure out, Church – all of us together, and in ones and twos and threes – and plain, loving speech is the only way to gain understanding, each of us committed to the longer-and-better method of being responsible for closing the loop.

     Here’s the problem as I see it: We are mostly committed to the first method, stubbornly expecting more-and-louder to get the point across, throwing more coal into the communication furnace without trotting upstairs to feel if the house is getting warmer. With so little to compare it to, and bombarded by it ourselves, more-and-louder seems to be the only game in town. Throw in a rapidly changing vernacular, and the very thought of taking the time to close the loop of communication is terrifying.

     In our Bible reading lately, there’s been a recurring statement: “Then you will know that I am the LORD.” I would quickly run out of letter-room if I gave all the Scripture addresses, but one of the most recent is Ezekiel 20:38. God uses plain words, he uses events, he uses metaphor, he uses parable, he uses object lesson – all for the purpose of creating understanding in his people. Would God be diminished in any way if his people did not understand? (This is where you say, “No….”) For whose benefit, then, is the communication?

     Before long, our reading plan will have us in Psalm 119; verse 130 of that Psalm says…

    The unfolding of your words give light; it imparts understanding to the simple.

    This one little sentence is packed with: an object lesson (imagine opening up your Bible, literally unfolding it); a metaphor (that Bible of yours doesn’t actually shine, but the words give light); and a statement of plain fact (understanding is about to happen for the one who simply engages). What a blessing! What an honor, that God himself would communicate with his people, so plainly and lovingly, waiting for us to get it!

      Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children… (Ephesians 5:1). I’ve been operating, far too long, under the mistaken notion that I am diminished somehow if you don’t understand me. I’ve been operating, far too long, under the mistaken notion that you bear the responsibility for understanding me. I’ve been using, far-the-heck too long, the wrong method. (Hey, ding, maybe that’s why I so consistently get bad marks on communication.) I suppose this is a good time to try to clarify. If our communication can only be done by the more-and-louder method, I’m out – it can only lead to further frustration for both of us. Oh, but if……..

 ……..if, I say……

 

…if we can commit to being imitators of God as dearly loved children, patiently and for one another’s benefit waiting to see the loop closed (or not?), trusting our Father to impart light and understanding to our speech and relationships…….

 …then I am soooooooooooooooooooooo IN!

     Because of unfamiliarity, it won’t be easy. But my soul giggles at this prospect: It’ll be worth it. Maybe we need a stack of placemats and some good pens to get us started. Whatever it takes, I believe we could be, in very little time, well on our way to redeeming language amongst us, rescuing it from the angst-filled, bullet-on-bullet thing it so often seems to be. We could relax a little. Doesn’t that sound heavenly?

     Speaking of heavenly, there’s a quirky non-ending to my conversation with the man who neither spoke nor heard. One of the placemat messages he wrote was, “I need a job.” We swapped phone numbers on one another’s placemats. I found a red-hot job prospect, thanks to one of our Cobblestone folks. I started to call the number – oops, what sense would that make? – I sent a text with the pertinent info. No response, ever. I checked with the staff at Waffle House (for there it was that the conversation had taken place… or placemat) – they had only seen him the one morning, and never since. I wonder sometimes if this was one of those “entertaining angels” scenarios spoken of in Hebrews 13:2. Maybe the Lord was checking to see if I would even try to imitate him. Or maybe this was simply a deaf-mute man passing through to somewhere else. In any case, I’m paying more attention to what plain and loving communication really is, and who deserves my very best efforts at it.

     Let me know how it works out, will ya?

  

Grace and Peace (and understanding, which is, as you know, on me),

 

John