Ms. Understood

It is crazy work when a single word opens up a trapdoor into childhood survival strategies.

I was having a conversation with a family member and asked if they had friends. Not because I was being messy.  I was genuinely curious. Over the years, I hadn’t really observed them engaging in many intimate, platonic relationships, so I wanted to understand what friendship looked like for them.

They told me they didn’t really have friends outside of one or two people they keep up with but don’t see regularly. Then they started explaining how they met their social needs. And I responded: “So you get your needs met through superficial relationships.”

Now, in my head, that was a summary. They had just explained, “I don’t really have friends, but I talk to people this way, and I interact with people that way.” I was trying to understand the concept. Apparently, I had chosen the wrong word. Because what I intended as an observation landed as a judgment. And honestly? That frustrated me.

Not because I couldn’t understand why the word bothered them. Once I thought about it, I could see it. Superficial doesn’t just mean “lacking depth” in a dictionary. Depending on who is hearing it, it can sound like: Your relationships are shallow, the way you connect with people is lesser, or you don’t know how to form meaningful relationships. That wasn’t what I meant. But they heard something along those lines.

And there it was again: Intent does not always equal impact. I know this lesson. I’ve written about this lesson. I’ve huffed and puffed learning this lesson. So, naturally, I started looking into communication and connotation because apparently, I cannot simply have a conversation without turning it into a research project. Hey, if I'm going to go through, I'm learning something and refusing to leave empty-handed.

I came across advice about considering the emotional weight of words and learning to anticipate how people might respond to them. The idea was that if you can predict how someone might react to certain language, you can reduce misunderstandings. Sounds reasonable, right? Except one sentence stopped me: Predict how they will react.

Because that is unfortunately one of my childhood survival strategies. And not in a cute, emotionally intelligent way. I grew up learning to read the room, the face, the tone, and/or the silence. I had to figure out what somebody meant before they said it or what they might do next. I had to choose my words carefully, avoid certain subjects and anticipate the reaction so I could adjust myself accordingly. I had to keep the peace. Stay safe.

So, when I read that advice, my first thought wasn’t, What a helpful communication skill. It was: Oh, absolutely not. Because there is a difference between learning to communicate with consideration and becoming responsible for managing everybody else’s emotional response to you. And I think I am still learning the difference.

Because here’s the part I don’t want to get wrong. The lesson isn’t that I should just say whatever I want because, “Well, I meant well.” That’s not biblical either. Scripture has plenty to say about our words.

James tells us to be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger. Proverbs tell us that our words have the power to bring life or destruction. Paul tells believers in Ephesians 4 to pay attention to what comes out of our mouths and to speak in ways that build others up according to what they need.

So yes, I should care about how my words land.

I should absolutely listen, consider, clarify when something comes out wrong, and be willing to say, “That’s not what I meant, but I can understand why you heard it that way.”

That’s maturity. But maturity is not the same thing as hypervigilance. I'm talking to myself. Consideration says, “Let me think about how my words might affect you.” Hypervigilance says, “I need to figure out how you’re going to react so I can make sure you don’t react badly.” Those are not the same thing. One is love. The other can become fear. And I most certainly have confused the two before.

I’ve mistaken anticipating people’s reactions for being emotionally intelligent. I’ve mistaken keeping everyone comfortable for keeping the peace. I’ve mistaken knowing how to read a room for knowing what God is asking me to do in that room. And those things can look incredibly similar from the outside. But they produce very different people on the inside.

Because if I am constantly trying to predict how someone will respond to me, eventually I stop asking, what is true? What is loving? What is wise? What does God want me to say? And I start asking: How do I say this, so nobody gets upset? How do I say this, so they don’t misunderstand me? How do I make sure they don’t think I’m being mean? How do I prevent this conversation from going left?

And suddenly, the goal isn’t communication anymore. It’s control. Not control over the other person necessarily. Control over the outcome. And that is a burden God never asked me to carry. I said this before and I'll say it again, I am actively learning to release control.

Jesus was remarkably attentive to people. He noticed people. He asked questions. He knew when people were hurting. But Jesus was not governed by people’s reactions to Him. People misunderstood, questioned, criticized, and were offended by Him. And Jesus didn’t spend His ministry trying to make sure nobody ever had a negative reaction to Him. He remained truthful. He remained loving. He remained obedient to the Father. Even when people didn’t like what He said.

That’s different from being careless with people. It’s being anchored enough in God that other people’s reactions don’t become your compass. I'm might tell you a joke, but I won't tell you a lie, this has been so difficult for me. That’s the part I’m still learning.

I can become more thoughtful with my words without becoming terrified of saying the wrong thing. I can acknowledge when my words hurt someone without automatically assuming I have done something wrong. I can apologize without taking responsibility for an emotion I didn’t create. I can clarify without begging to be understood or making someone's sensitivities the governing system for my communication. And maybe most importantly: I can be responsible for my words without becoming responsible for everyone’s interpretation of them.

Because there will be times when I need to change how I speak. There will be times when I need to apologize. Believe it or not, it hurts me that my word hurts others. There will be times when somebody heard something I genuinely didn’t intend to communicate, and love will require me to slow down enough to understand why. But there will also be times when I have communicated honestly, respectfully, and lovingly, and someone still doesn’t like what they heard.

Sometimes being misunderstood (a soft spot for me) is simply part of being human. And perhaps becoming more biblical means learning how to hold both truths at the same time. Be careful with your words. And: Don’t let fear of someone’s reaction control them.

Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life walking on eggshells with people just because I learned how to do it really well as a child. I want to become someone who listens without mind-reading. Someone who considers without obsessing. Someone who apologizes without self-abandoning. Someone who speaks truth without needing to control how it is received. Someone who loves people deeply without making their emotional response my responsibility.

Because I am learning that peace is not the same thing as nobody being upset with me. Sometimes peace looks like knowing I did my part, gave God the rest, and let Him be responsible for what happens next. And honestly? That’s a much harder lesson than learning which words have the wrong connotation. But I think it’s one worth learning.