When well-meaning advice does more damage than good

Advice from trusted friends is often a great gift – except when it isn’t.

 Wading through the book of Job this week, I am so struck by contrasts. This book begins as a narrative of the onset and progression of this faithful follower of God’s life-changing losses and agonies. But it soon becomes a volleying of speeches offered by Job’s friends, with his own responses interspersed.

 As Job and his seemingly well-intentioned friends discuss his remarkable suffering, it may be challenging for the reader to pick out the good advice from the bad. Although each of his friends offers some nuggets of truth and wisdom, they also go out of bounds. 

 

 OK, these guys do spend an impressive amount of time listening to Job first, as he airs his woes. But then they launch into their own diatribes:

• They attempt to analyze Job’s situation, even though they lack insight into it.
• They add insult to injury by complaining about other problems besides Job’s (as if he needs additional worries or concerns at this point).
• They blame Job for his troubles.
• They offer pat answers, claiming the faithful will come out alright.
• They question Job’s faith.
• They critique their friend Job, making themselves sound better by comparison.
• They seem to explain away some of his troubles, as if he might be exaggerating his misery.
• They call Job to repent, which is always a good idea before God, but they do not know that Job’s suffering did not result from sin on his part.
• Basically Job’s friends offer him counsel (right or wrong) when what he really needed was comfort.

 (I’m cringing because I realize that I have been both the giver and the recipient of similar well-meaning, but off-target commentaries over the years.)

 In all of this, despite his own agony and his having to endure all of their hot air, Job remains faithful to God. He dares to ask difficult and honest questions, knowing that God is able to take that. And as believers, we know that God will answer Job (and will answer us) in His time.

Spoiler alert: This proves to be true before the end of the book, as God restores Job.

 God is not afraid or threatened by our difficult and honest questions. And there are times when He is the only wise counsel, even when others earnestly are trying to help. Maybe that’s why the Apostle John instructed believers thusly:

“Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits, whether they are of God.” (1 John 4:1a, NKJV)

 We are also limited. We need His wisdom — oh, how we need it — especially in our most difficult times.

 One of my most frequently prayed promises of the Scriptures wasn’t around in Job’s time. But it’s here for us:

 “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." (James 1:5, NIV)

 Bring it, Lord. How we need Your wisdom.

 

Related items:

• Arms up or up in arms?
• Betrayed again … but Jesus knows the feeling
• Dark and difficult emotions don’t negate our faith
• Does mother-grief last forever?
• Fighting for heir time
• My heart hurts because you matter
• Snotty snubs and hot coals

 

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Image/s: Mr. Mel's Neighbors by Evan Harrington, 1860, public domain

Fellowship: Let’s not rubber-stamp our politics

 

If we are people of faith, then our beliefs will shape our viewpoints. That’s a given. But does that necessarily mean that our mutual faith will lead to matching opinions on all topics?

I didn’t think so.

It’d be a bold assumption for me to decide that everyone who shares my faith always shares my politics – across the board. Turning the tables, it’d be bold for you to do the same.

And yet it happens. All the time.

 

Hold it right there.

This is a risky post. The last thing I want to do is to hurt someone’s feelings, especially someone with whom I have shared the warm circle of friendship. Please let me begin by clearly stating that I am not singling anyone out here. And at times, I may be preaching to the mirror. (I’m pretty good at that. I’ve had plenty of practice in that department.)

Throughout the past few years (or maybe more than that), American politics seem to have grown more heated and controversial than ever before. Differences of opinion spring swiftly into spite and hatred. Mutual respect has all but vanished across society.

This quagmire is not even restricted to our choices of electoral candidates. We may differ on individual issues, whether we know it or not. That’s sort of how democracy works.

There are plenty of issues that attract genuine believers to both (or all) sides. Even in small circles of faith, folks may hold varying viewpoints. But what can be simply astonishing is that others may assume everyone around the table agrees on all counts of politics and policies, just because we all aim to be biblical Christians.

We may not all be far right, left wing, or smack dab in the middle – even though we love Jesus.

 

How does that play out, during faith-based gatherings and throughout the rest of the week?

Check your inbox. If it’s anything like mine, you’ll find handfuls (or even dozens) of messages from well-meaning Christian sisters/brothers, often including links to political and ideological posts. Maybe you nod your head in agreement. Perhaps you shake your head instead.

Look at your social networking pages. Are fellow believers tagging you in posts promoting their opinions? When you’re tagged, those posts appear on your own page. That means your friends and followers will also assume you support those viewpoints.

Think back a bit. Have you ever bitten your tongue during a faith group meeting, because the discussion traipsed off into politics, and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into the works? You knew you disagreed on some point, but you held your peace to keep the peace? Then you know the feeling.

 

It’s not like we can’t stay friends, if we disagree. 

True fellowship can flourish in healthy diversity, if we get a chance to share it. Isn’t it a hallmark of mutual respect to hear one another out before assuming we buy into all of the same ideas in our society at-large?

 

This assumption has proved particularly painful for me during the past year for multiple reasons. (Warning: I'm gonna get a little personal here. But I'm not pointing fingers at anyone else.)

1. In the spring of 2020, as the COVID-19 pandemic gained traction in the US, I spent several months sewing 1,000+ cloth face-masks, mostly using fabrics from my own supply. Most went to health care workers, emergency personnel, senior care facilities, and other local concerns. I also gave masks to friends and family members. Soon, I began seeing social networking posts bashing mask-wearing. Then a few folks to whom I had given home-sewn masks put up anti-mask posts and tagged me. How can that not feel like a slap in the face?
   

2. Our extended family represents the full spectrum of political persuasions, and we value one another more than our viewpoints. Draw the family circle wider (from blood into water), so to speak, and the plot thickens. Some cannot share space because they do not share the same opinions. What happens when a friend posts online and tags me? At least one side of the schism will take offense, because of what that post implies, even if I don’t carry that bias.

3. Several friends regularly send individual or group texts, private messages, and emails to support their political viewpoints. Because we are all family in the faith, they take it for granted these will be welcomed enthusiastically. Although I almost never respond, the snowball effect of receiving so many attacks on my own perspectives wounds my spirit.

4. Once, I asked a fellow believer privately to “Please cease from tagging me online in political posts.” Not long afterwards, that friend tagged me again and critiqued me publicly online for that request.

I have to wonder, when might I have stepped on someone’s political principles by concluding he or she identified with the same policies or candidates as I did? Did I disregard anyone’s viewpoints, even inadvertently? Perhaps.

Do we make our fellowship of faith meetings (such as Bible studies, book groups, Sunday school classes, or other gatherings) safe places for everyone to explore and evaluate our own viewpoints? Or do we presuppose everyone will be on the same page – on every topic?

Definitely, there are basics on which we commit to agree. 

That’s why we turn to Scripture on matters of doctrine. That’s where creeds and statements of faith come in. But present-day politics will not always fit into one rigid mold.

 

Here’s the bottom line for me. It’s threefold, and I think it’s basically biblical.

1. Let’s leave the partisan assumptions at the door, when we get together as brethren. “But avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless. Warn a divisive person once, and then warn them a second time. After that, have nothing to do with them.” (Titus 3:9-10, NIV)

2. Let’s look forward together to sharing God’s Kingdom, where there will be no ideological debates. “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 3:20, NLT)
   

3. Let’s aim for fellowship over favoring our own politics. “Let us then pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding.” (Romans 14:19, NRSV)

Oh, and let’s not tag each other until we have heard each other.

Jesus said the world would know we are Christians by our love for one another (see John 13:35), not which lever we pull (or which boxes we check) inside the voting booth. (See? There I go, preaching to the mirror again.)

Image/s: Collage designed by this user with online generator with public domain images

 

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