Choosing Gentleness

The sign said “gently in manner, strong in deed.” It was the translation of the Latin inscription “Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re” on a paper weight belonging to Dwight D. (Ike) Eisenhower. It caught my attention as I browsed artifacts in the 34^th U.S. President’s Library and Museum.

I admire gentle leaders. Eisenhower’s paper weight weighed on my mind with conviction. Convicted, because I realized that behaving gently is a choice, regardless of how much gentleness was mixed into my natural temperament.

A couple of days before I saw Eisenhower’s sign, I had a choice to be gentle mannered or not. We had parked our RV for the night and decided to find a ride into town for dinner. The town had no Uber or Lyft, so I called the only local taxi service. The driver arrived with an attitude that morphed into rudeness before we even drove away. Instead of offering gentleness, I made a choice to be ugly back to him. We one-upped each other a few times in our ping pong of word wars. I felt justified in the moment, but later I felt awful about my behavior.

Sometimes we pass up the choice to be gently mannered because we don’t want to come off as weak. But gentleness is not weakness. Gentleness is strength under control. Pastor Rick Warren emphasizes this definition in a great sermon series on ‘The Strength of Gentleness.’ Watch it here if you want to dive deeper into the topic of gentleness from a Christian perspective: http://saddleback.com/watch/media/11494

So how can I choose to be more gently mannered?

1)          I can choose gentleness in my voice:

• Respond with a lower volume than the other person
• Smile while talking – it’s hard to sound mean when I’m smiling
•  Speak slowly with pauses
•  Remove sarcasm from my tone

A gentle answer deflects anger, but harsh words make tempers flare. [Proverbs 15:1 NLT]

2)          I can choose gentleness in my words:

• Use fewer words
• Offer questions more than opinions
• Disagree respectfully with the opposite view
• Guard the permanency of the written word

Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior.  Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you. [Ephesians 4:31-32 NLT]

3)          I can choose gentleness in my attitude:

• Remember that everyone has a story
• Assume good intent
• Give the benefit of the doubt
• Don’t assume it’s about me

Finally, all of you should be of one mind. Sympathize with each other. Love each other as brothers and sisters. Be tenderhearted, and keep a humble attitude [I Peter 3:8 NLT]

Choosing gentleness in our voice, words, and attitude can be hard on our good days and seem impossible on our bad days. But we don’t have to rely on our own ability, because gentleness is also a fruit of the Spirit.

But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. [Galations 5:22 NLT]

In this chapter of life, I’ve decided I want to become a gentler soul. And I’m grateful that His Spirit can help me produce that. One choice at a time.

The Crayon Named Flesh

I remember the first time I heard the term “white privilege.”

It was the summer of 2000 and I had just returned to the U.S. from an overseas job assignment. During the years I had been away, my colleagues had moved forward in creating a more inclusive work environment. It felt as if I had missed a few weeks in school and needed to run to catch up. As we shared our different life experiences based on our skin color, a white colleague used the term “white privilege.”

My first thought was that she might experience privilege, but not me. Yes, my skin was white. But my parents had grown up picking cotton in the south. They never had things easy. This mouth had never tasted a silver spoon. I associated the word ‘privilege’ only with socioeconomic privilege. I did not verbalize my distaste for the term. I chewed on it in silence without swallowing, the way a child might chew on liver, hoping for an opportunity to spit it out. As I listened to more stories, I began to understand the intent behind the label. The stories riveted my gut and I began a journey to see the more subtle privileges that I never knew I had.

Something becomes a privilege when you don’t have to think about it. The list of stuff I didn’t have to think about began early.

I didn’t think about that the blonde blue-eyed girl on the Sunbeam bread wrapper on my breakfast table looked like me.

I didn’t think about how the photos in my dad’s daily newspaper looked a lot like him.

I didn’t think about how well the bandage matched when I skinned my knee.

I didn’t think about how the crayon named ‘flesh’ in my new box of 64 colors approximated my pigment.

I didn’t think about buying a pair of hose that went by the color ‘nude’ or ‘suntan’ back in the day when we wore hose.

I didn’t think about whether I might get followed around in a department store by a suspicious sales clerk.

I didn’t think about whether there would be hair salons who knew how to do my hair when I moved anywhere.

I didn’t think about whether my parents were given the benefit of the doubt in business transactions.

You see, I didn’t have to think about my whiteness at all. And that’s what made it privileged. It didn’t make me a bad person. It didn’t make me a hateful bigot. But it did mean I was ignorant.

Once I see something, I cannot un-see it. Once I know something, I must decide what I want to do with the information.

I choose to be grateful that Crayola changed the name of ‘flesh’ to ‘peach’ rather than labeling it political correctness.

I choose to notice when retailers treat a darker skinned customer with less respect. Sometimes I’m brave enough to say something instead of thinking through alternative reasons that just happened.

I choose to pay attention when people who do not look like me show up in a place full of people who do look like me and try to make them feel welcomed.

I choose to accept a label I didn’t ask for. One I might not like. One from which I have benefited. One that has helped me understand my part in the silent perpetuating of racism. I realize it is only a start, because I don’t know what else I do not yet know.

As a person professing to be a follower of Christ, I understand this is not enough. Paul instructs me to go a step further:

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. [Philippians 2:3-4 ESV]

Christ calls me with a greater calling anchored in His love. I can increase my awareness. I can change my behavior. But He can change me at a different level. A change of heart. A change of thinking. A change of being. His love can take us deeper in loving others the way He loves each of us.

Runaway Fail

One day when I was about four, I packed my little polka dotted travel case with a pair of clean underwear and my toothbrush.  When mom was sidetracked with something, I snuck out the door and headed down the street. I navigated to the block behind our house and settled down in a ditch in front of someone’s house. I don’t remember what mom had done to upset me, but I was certain I would be better off on my own. As I sat on the grassy incline of the ditch, I realized my older brothers would walk this route home when they got out of school and might rat me out.

A little rain had collected in the ditch, so I thought it would be a good idea to brush my teeth while I had access to water. Then I could walk a little further and find a better hiding place. But by the time I put my toothbrush back in my suitcase, the reality of life on the streets had hit me with crushing gravity. I jumped up and ran all the way home. I snuck back in the house quietly and unpacked, certain that mom didn’t even know I had been missing. She didn’t say a word about it. Years later, I learned that she knew everything, short of the muddy dental hygiene.

My runaway failure was a cute four year old life lesson. The real stories about kids running away from home break my heart. The difficulties that children and teens go through leading up to a runaway decision is not something I can pretend to know much about. And the unbearable worry their parents must experience wondering where they are is a pain that I can only imagine.

My heavenly father has never wondered where I was. Even in the times I ran away from Him, I knew I  was not hidden from Him.

The prophet, Jeremiah, must have known that feeling when he heard God say:

‘Am I only a God nearby,’ declares the LORD, ‘and not a God far away? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?’ declares the LORD. ‘Do not I fill heaven and earth?’ declares the LORD. [Jeremiah 23:23-24 ESV]

King David had that aha moment as well.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. [Psalm 139:7-10 ESV]

So running from God must be the ultimate runaway fail. We can run from Him, but we can’t hide from Him. He knows exactly where we are. And there He is too. What a good good Father!