A policeman was heading home after a long, hard day on patrol. He had
dealt with a whole succession of difficult people, and a mountain of
frustrating paperwork. All he wanted at this point was to kick back,
unwind, enjoy some peace and quiet, and maybe watch a few innings of
baseball on TV.
But, as he neared home, he was startled by a
vehicle that came careening around a sharp curve and narrowly missed his
squad car. As the car passed within a few inches of him, the other
driver shouted “Pig!”
The police officer was suddenly energized.
He slammed on brakes, all set to turn his squad car around and head off
in hot pursuit. But as he rounded the curve, … he ran head-on into a
large pig that was standing in the middle of the road!
It’s a
lesson we learn early in life if we’re lucky: don’t assume! No matter
how confident we are in our understanding of the issue. No matter how
certain of another’s reasoning or motives. No matter how obvious the
point may be to us. Effective communication is far more complicated and
difficult than we think. With barriers like cultural differences,
personal “filters,” different definitions, etc., it’s amazing that any
of us ever understand one another. But these aren’t the most difficult
obstacles. The biggest reason we aren’t able to hear what another is
saying to us is simply… “fear!”
Oh, we may camouflage it behind
anger, self-importance or any number of other false fronts, but at the
root is fear. Fear of being “found out,” or of being disappointed, or of
not getting what we want. It’s a powerful if crippling motivator. And
most of us can summon up plenty of reasons why we shouldn’t take another
at face value. Honest communication requires trust, and taking a risk.
And we’ve been burned too many times. So we settle for safety, make the
natural assumption, and run head-on into our own version of that pig as
we journey down life’s highway!
There is a better way. A way that
recognizes our similarities. That sees others as a source of community
and healing. That looks past our own frustration and previous
disappointments to explore the possibility that even a “stranger” may
have something positive to say. The Apostle Paul described it in
Corinthians, chapter 13. It’s the “higher way” of love. I almost
hesitate to use that term these days because of the way our culture
misuses it. But when you read Paul’s description, try substituting
“maturity.” It’s a perfect fit. The risks are higher for this way of
living, but so are the rewards.
Another (anonymous) writer cautions:
“To
laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing
sentimental. To reach out for another is to risk involvement. To expose
feelings is to risk exposing your true self. To place your ideas, your
dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss. To love is to risk not
being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To hope is to risk
despair. To try is to risk failure. But risks must be taken, because the
greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who risks
nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing. They may avoid
suffering and sorrow but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love,
live. Chained by their certitudes they are a slave, they have forfeited
their freedom. Only a person who risks is free.”
That doesn’t mean
we should be naive. It does mean we should be careful what we assume.
Check it out. Give others the benefit of the doubt. And if someone
shouts something unexpected at us, at least entertain the possibility
that perhaps it may be more than a personal insult. Who knows, that
approach could change our life.
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