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Holy Week resources and reflections

The space in between

In response to the divisiveness surrounding the 2016 elections, poet and author David Whyte posted on his blog that it was time to be “half a shade braver” in our speech, and that poetry could serve a particular role in that “it is always the conversation neither side is having.” I do believe this is true of poetry, but it is not the exclusive domain of the poet. As thoughtful Christians, we all need to occupy this in-between space where real and difficult conversations must occur.

These conversations, while often global in nature, are personal in embodiment. By which I mean: We cannot speak into the void, but must be confronted with one another’s humanity in the process of discussion, otherwise our words are only so much noise. I have begun to wonder if our reluctance to engage in the difficult conversation is because we’ve forgotten how to claim the space between us that is holy and unites us beyond any biases, long-entrenched opinions or old wounds. In our efforts to be “conciliatory,” we have failed at actual reconciliation because we are often less than truthful with ourselves or one another. We are polite and “correct,” but submerge the real conversation between the lines — and those lines grow into hedgerows we hide behind. It hinders real connection and real healing.

So how do we get to the conversation that needs to exist and tease it out from between the lines that are often blurry and layered? One of the biggest obstacles to authentic conversation is ignoring the need for time. Too often we rush in, have a knee-jerk reaction or have to be heard for the sake of hearing our own voice — and this is not dialogue or truth, but pride. And pride is poisonous and will kill any chance of uncovering the root conversation, the one that is buried beneath the layers and between the lines. Where real issues lie is often not in what is actually being said. Where real pain is felt is often not obvious in its expression.

So what are we to do? Difficult conversations don’t start with talking points or clever rhetoric, they begin with intentional listening. So, we listen. We listen closely. We listen graciously. We listen faithfully. And then we ask questions: thoughtful questions, questions that risk exposing our ignorance or bias, questions that make us as vulnerable as the person with whom we are speaking. We ask questions that dig deeper than the obvious or the immediate and find the bedrock beneath: the real pain, the real brokenness, the real sin, the real anger, the real injustice and, hopefully, also the place where real reconciliation can begin.

The content of the difficult conversation will vary, but the steps toward healing remain the same, because difficult conversations aren’t about establishing dominance or relinquishing control, they are about deliberately deciding to occupy the same holy space between the lines where we may listen and question and rewrite the story together.

NADINE ELLSWORTH-MORAN is associate pastor at Reid Memorial Presbyterian Church in Augusta, Georgia.

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