You don’t know me (or I you) and that’s GOOD news

I’m truly sorry to say this, and I know you’ll understand once I explain it, but you cannot possibly know me. Not in the way you think you know me.

We are limited via our own finite frame of thinking, being that we only have one line of experience, one set of eyes and ears, and truly one way to perceive the world. We cannot undo our filters. We are forever constrained by our biases, and they rock others most when we are unaware that they are even impinging, just as others’ biases rock us most when they, too, are ignorant.

Do you know why there is no absolute truth in relationships? Because the concept of absolute truth makes fools of us all. Discuss anything long enough, and no matter how like-minded we are, we all eventually end up in disagreement. (You may disagree with anything I say here and the point I’m making is proven; either we don’t understand each other or our communication is misshapen.)

We like people because they’re like us, and they like us because we think like they do. Birds of a feather flock together, as they say.

It is rare for anyone to enjoy the company of those who consistently disagree with them. Those who say they are exceptions to this we ought to be really guarded about. Sure, they could be exceptional, but it’s more likely that pride compels them to project a persona that’s not truly theirs. They want to appear ‘special’, stronger, more impervious to criticism.

One of the threats to deep relationships, and certainly marriages and other long partnerships like businesses are good examples, is they are forever vulnerable to a pattern of conflict that separates close friends. Don’t believe me? People are separating all the time, and usually because they believed they knew each other. But what they were really in love with was a persona that worked with their way of seeing the world. As soon as we begin to disagree, there is a test:

“Do I love this person enough to bear this incredible discomfort, fear and rage welling up from within, that they vehemently disagree?”

It is a very mature relationship that can bear disagreement—and it certainly needs two parties both accepting that the relationship is only as strong as the last conflict managed well. All that matters is how the present conflict is being handled, let alone the skeletons of past that lie dormant in the closet of resentment, ready to gunnysack the other into relational oblivion; those conflicts that were never handled.

The trouble with conflict, of course,
is it opens up the matter of choice
as far as response is concerned.

Woah, if conflict is bad,
a poor response is infinitely worse!

Again, it is a rare person who responds willingly, first time, as a peacemaker; who resists shutting down and refusing to engage, and also resists attacking the other with criticism and threats.

The conflict is one thing,
but the response afterwards
usually redoubles the offence,
but it can bring the relief of peace.

People are far more likely to be offended by the way we responded to the conflict than they are offended by the conflict itself. The response to conflict truly is the opportunity to exhibit grace, patience, kindness and gentleness.

But we all feel threatened in conflict, which is why it is so important to remind ourselves that we don’t know how another person, no matter who they are, perceives the present issues, within the context of the world they are perceiving them from.

Don’t we wish we knew each other little bit better? Don’t we wish truth was a little less abstract? Don’t we wish we could get inside their head and heart and stomach and in their inner experience to understand what they’re really feeling and thinking? If we did, we wouldn’t want to fly away or fight with them as much. Truth is relative because we are dealing with human beings, and there are myriad filters within perception that must be catered for.

You cannot know me, and I cannot know you. This means we must unequivocally respect one another. There is so much I would miss in arguing ‘my truth’ with you, because I cannot possibly see all of the truth, because your truth is hidden from my sight. We cannot even communicate that effectively, though we are seriously blessed in the trying.

Because we’re handicapped in this realm of relationships, we must offer the benefit of the doubt to each other, as we offer forth a generous portion of grace, even when I feel you are being flat out offensive, or you think that of me. We can only hope to learn more about others and what they are really thinking and feeling when we open our hearts to the possibility that we might be wrong. Ah, that’s humility, can you see?

When we accept that we cannot know each other, a strange phenomenon takes place. We begin to desire a freshened understanding of the other person we cannot understand. It’s only when we know we cannot know someone that our interest is piqued, and we can become intently curious from a pure motive, because all of us hate being unaware as much as we hate feeling foolish. We want to know. But first we must admit we don’t know, and we must suffer the indignity of that to be of true service to others.

It is a good thing to approach relational life from the context of unknowing.

When I know I don’t know you, I make fewer assumptions, I attempt more clarifications, and I may appear more respectful, and I may actually be more trustworthy. And this is good news!

If only we could imagine what it feels like for the one who is hurt, disappointed, feels betrayed. If only we sought to understand before seeking to be understood. If only we valued the interests of others, acknowledging they’re as important to them as ours are to us.

Photo by Edi Libedinsky on Unsplash