The Paceline

There’s a lot on my mind these days. Gentle is not at the top. It needs to be. 

We live in an age of outrage over ANY subject worthy of discussion. Politics. Medicine. Sex. Schools. Religion. Justice. Entertainment. Food. Environment. Sports. You pick it. Someone’s got a beef.

There’s always someone ready to “share” their strident opinion on their favorite subject. Sometimes it’s on something I never knew was a hot button. To respond with honest bemusement can throw gasoline on the fire. My singed eyebrows are proof positive.

AND there’s always someone else ready to take offense at the stated opinion. Charlie Dunn, Pastor of Grace Lake Highlands, proposed a few weeks ago that our love for offense is the new “national sport.”  He said that outrage is the new, addictive drug that is taking over so many psyches and hurting so many relationships.

He offered a compelling lesson on Gentleness in an Age of Outrage during our online church. He said it so much better than me. Your time may be better spent to stop reading now and listen to him instead.

But what he said stirred what’s been on my mind for a while. I’m still processing relationships with those I love who live in outrage and friends I admire who repeat conspiracies. 

In today’s tough, combative, competitive, fearful world it appears that to be gentle is to be weak. Is there a “place for gentle” anywhere, anytime – or is it now an outmoded concept?

Certainly if you are a nation of light pitted against a spiritually-dark nation with self-serving beliefs regarding the rule of law, you must not appear weak. If you stand guard over something important in a hostile land or simply walk across a dark parking lot in Dallas, you must not appear weak. It is vital to not invite threat because a potential aggressor perceives gentleness as weakness. BUT for most of the time in most of our lives, gentleness is indispensable.

To be gentle is to succeed.

A successful salesperson solves problems by gathering information with gentle queries, intent listening, and perceptive observation. A successful fundraiser practices what Hank Rosso called “the gentle art of teaching the joy of giving.”

Hearts are won with gentle persuasion. Not by laws. Not by force. Not by yelling louder. Quarrelsome leaders and pundits get short-term wins measured by their version of popularity, but they never really thrive.

When I think of something that thrives, I think of my dad’s garden and his delicious fruits and vegetables that came in year after year. His boysenberries were my favorite. Ironically, when I think of my Father’s garden, I think of His fruit – the fruit of the spirit.

Galations 5:22-23 defines it and Max Lucado speaks to it: “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. To these I commit my day. If I succeed, I will give thanks. If I fail, I will seek his grace. And then, when this day is done, I will place my head on my pillow and rest.”

To be gentle is to thrive.

Gentle wake ups are the best. Gentle reminders help us meet goals. Gentle stretching helps aging muscles. Gentle jest and civility at the dinner table bond families and friends with warm memories even when separated by time and distance. Many, many elements of gentleness are woven into the fabric of every life that thrives.

There is absolutely a “place for gentle” today. We need to model it more than ever. But how do we deal with outrage?

Rebecca McLaughlin said that “how we respond to a question matters as much as having an answer. Especially if the question is hostile, dismissive, or coming from a place of pain, we must work hard not to be dismissive or defensive in response, but rather to model the “gentleness and respect” to which we are called (1 Peter 3:15).” She goes on to say it can be really “hard in the moment to manage our own feelings and to think clearly about a helpful response.”

Amen, sister. Gentle is seldom at top of mind for me.

A hero in the book, Wounded Tiger, was described as someone with “inner strength and gentle courage – water drawn from an extraordinarily deep well.”

I need to deepen my well.