This is Where I Am — Where Are You?

IT WAS SUNDAY... a beautiful spring evening in the hills of Bel Air, California. The scent of night-blooming jasmine came through the open windows on the wings of a gentle breeze, and it seemed that all was well in the world.

    I was getting ready for the evening service of the new church Louie had been sent to Bel Air to start. I was standing in front of the big mirror in our bathroom, brushing my hair. I remember hearing the front door open and close as people began to congregate in our living room as they did each Sunday night. Louie had been out making calls on new members, and now I heard him open the sliding glass door into our bedroom — no doubt slipping in the back way so he could catch his breath and wash up before facing the nearly one hundred people sitting in our front room.

    Our life since arriving in Bel Air had been a fast track — I mean, really! ... A constant round of calls, meetings,

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and people. It wasn't that we were never together — just so rarely alone. It had been weeks since we had had an evening for ourselves. I was tired. We had four babies under five years of age, and a home that doubled as a church office, sanctuary, and fellowship hall. But more than being tired, I was in some strange way lonely. Not that I didn't love our work. I was as excited about it as Louie was... and our people were marvelous. But something was wrong, and I was just beginning to wrestle with whatever it was.

    At that point, enter Louie. There he was, standing beside me, washing his hands. He was excited about the call he had just made, thrilled with what God was doing in the lives of people in our fellowship, and eagerly planning the next project to move on to in the church — and the next, and the next.

    Now, at that point, as the good wife, I of course shared his enthusiasm — right? Wrong! The more he talked and the more excited he became, the more I grappled with my churnings inside. My feelings rose higher and higher, that lump in my throat got bigger, and finally the tears spilled over the top, and I let him have it. Poor Louie! All those people in the living room waiting to be inspired, and his wife dissolves in tears in the bathroom. But he listened, and I'll always be grateful to him for that.

    I'm not sure exactly what I said, but between sniffs and sobs I was somehow able to tell Louie about the need I was just beginning to sense within myself. I told

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him how hungry I was to be with him, to have time to talk and dream, alone. I shared my strong feeling that there had to be a change in our relentless schedule, a change that would give us time to communicate and build our relationship.

    Well, there obviously wasn't time for Louie to hear me out completely just then, but later — after the meeting was over and the door had closed for the last time — he did. We sat and talked for a very long time, saying things we both wanted and needed to hear — things we had been almost too busy to think, much less say to one another. I remember Louie thanked me for being honest about my feelings — and that meant something special to me. He also agreed that indeed we did need to slow down in order to have time to nurture our own relationship.

    And then he did a simple, practical — and, to me, very beautiful — thing. He took his little date book from his pocket, and looked until he found a free night. It happened to be Thursday of the following week, and he said, "That's our night." And so it was the next week that we had an evening all to ourselves. Out of that night came a decision to put aside time every week for the same purpose... and so it has been in all the years since... Thursday night.

    Now I'm sure many couples are able to find time for each other in an easy, unscheduled way, and that's wonderful. But that didn't work for us. With our kind of life we found we have to make time — not that we would

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always be able to adhere to it rigidly — literally grabbing hold of our schedules and writing it into our date books. And that was one of the most important decisions we ever made... the decision to make time to say, "This is where I am, where are you?" For any marriage, or any relationship of depth, will only be as good as its communication. And communication takes time!

    It also takes being aware of where you are, for communication is not just talking to, or at someone. It is a sharing of real feelings.... what we think, feel, value — what we fear, hate — what we dream about and believe in.

    Communication is part of being an authentic person... we say what we feel and feel what we say. Of course, we do not communicate only through our words. We communicate in many different ways at the same time, so that even the sharing of a few words can send a very complicated message. In fact, whether we speak or not, in an intimate relationship we are constantly sending and receiving messages. We can speak volumes with a look, a tone of voice, a touch on the shoulder as we pass our partner's chair at the family table. A person who truly communicates will "match" inside and out. As we grow in our ability to communicate in marriage we can help each other to become authentic people — we can know ourselves better and match inside and out. For in a way I must be able to share who I am transparently with my husband in order to know who I am.

    The cry for communication is loud and persistent!

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Among the women I know, I hear this hunger expressed more than any other: "If only my husband would talk to me!" "We just don't communicate." Or, "He's so busy making money! I don't want his money, I want him!"

    Women are hungry for their men... hungry to know and be known. But it doesn't go only one way. Men, too, have this basic desire, and how healthy it is that our society is finally granting its permission for men to express their needs openly. The drive we feel to know and be known is not linked to our sex but to our basic humanity. We want it so much because God created us to have it.

    So many couples begin marriage convinced that nothing will take away the closeness they feel, and somehow they miss the truth that love and communication go hand in hand and must be worked at — or else, like unused muscles, they will atrophy from disuse. I'm thinking of a couple we know. They were ecstatic when they first got married... and they were happy for a few years. He enjoyed his work, she enjoyed being at home with the children. They looked forward to seeing each other at the end of each day. On weekends they had fun together. Then very gradually it all began to change. At night when he came home they found themselves saying the same things to each other. He was preoccupied, and she felt she was intruding when she asked him questions about his job. Yet she wanted so much to talk to him! All day, every single day  she was with the

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children. They lived in a very small town where nothing exciting seemed to happen, and she longed for him to tell her what went on in the city where people were busy doing interesting things. She tried to make conversations of her own, but what could she talk about except the people she saw at the supermarket or how her dime got stuck in the dry cleaning machine. Finally one evening he snapped, "I don't want to hear about that stuff! It's boring!" He might just as well have said she was boring — and maybe she was. His work and the people he met were so fascinating — how could she keep up with them?

    That happens to a lot of marriages. According to some psychiatrists, the average man and wife communicate with each other for twenty-eight minutes a week. They may talk a lot more than that, and they may transmit messages in ways other than verbal, but obviously they aren't getting through to each other, And if they aren't getting through, they aren't communicating!

    That reminds me of something Paul Tournier wrote: "Listen to all the conversations of our world, between nations as well as those between couples. They are for the most part dialogues of the deaf."

    So that we do not join forces with the "dialoguing deaf," we need to work on our communication in marriage, and as we do, the life and teachings of Jesus will be a real help. He was so direct, so transparent, yet always so full of care for the other person. When he

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said, "Let your yes be yes, and your no be no," he was guiding us toward simplicity, clarity, and frankness. Some people call it truthing it — that is, speaking the truth in love. This is a term used in David Augsburger's The Love Fight.

    Lately, in my own life, as I've been working on truthing, I have been trying to learn to speak more accurately. It's too easy for me to say "others feel," when what I really mean is "I feel." I also have noticed that when Louie and I are talking, I am inclined to want to speak for him — "I feel you feel that I feel." In my journey toward transparency, I would like to let others speak for themselves, and I accept the responsibility I have to speak for myself. This is part of truthing it — and truthing it is good for communication.

    But truthing it is not just speaking the truth... it is also hearing the truth, in love... being open to the truth about ourselves. And this is another area on which I need to work. When I listen, I want to hear truly. I don't want to block out what my husband — or others — might be trying to say to me simply because they are saying things I might not like to hear.

    When I listen to my husband, I want to hear what he feels — not what I feel about him. Not hearing feelings can be a stumbling block in the way of being a true listener. I remember a time in our marriage when Louie was feeling particularly inadequate about his work. He really doubted his teaching and preaching ability, and it was a painful period for him. He tried to

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tell me what he was feeling, but I thought he was so gifted, so strong in these areas, that I couldn't hear him when he said he was hurting. My repeated affirmations — "I'd rather listen to you preach than anyone" ... "I learn so much when you teach" — fell on deaf ears. What I felt about him was getting in the way of my hearing him. Finally he convinced me. To my amazement I saw that at that time and place he really did feel inadequate. It was only then I was able to hear him, to feel with him, and to talk with him during a dark time.

    Another very real part of communication is conflict — and learning how to talk and work through difficult problems. In a wonderful little book called Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am? by John Powell, I came across this statement:

   All deep and authentic friendships, and especially the union of those who are married, must be based on absolute openness and honesty. At times, gut-level communication will be most difficult, but it is at these precise times that it is necessary. Among close friends or between partners in marriage there will come from time to time a complete emotional and personal union.

    I agree. Gut-level communication is risky, but if a couple has enough faith in the strength of their relationship, they can take the risk. The greater risk is to avoid it out of fear of conflict.

    If we are still battling the fear of being rejected, we

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will see conflict as a crushing threat — "If we clash, you may reject me." Most marriages have to grow in their ability to handle conflicts in a natural way... as partners grow in the security of their love and commitment, they are able to venture and risk without fear. Some partners begin marriage with the understanding that honesty and criticism will not only be allowed but will be encouraged in their relationship.

    In his sensitive book I Loved a Girl Walter Trobisch writes:

Before he was married, one of my friends wrote to his fiancée about what he expected from his future wife: ... "She must challenge me to the highest degree by completely honest criticism of me... When she is disappointed in me, she must not withdraw her confidence... She must never pretend, but must tell me honestly when I have hurt her."

   Do you understand? What he wanted was not a servant girl, but an equal partner who stands beside him before God. Only with such a partner can you become "one flesh" in the real depths of its meaning — a new, living being. Partnership includes the right to criticize.

    Of course, there are different ways to confront and criticize... and different times! For instance, I know better than to mention something like that on the night before Louie has to preach a sermon.

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    The point is, conflict doesn't need to be bad — it is natural. It is precisely because marriage is such a close intimate relationship that it also has such a high susceptibility for conflict. But it can even be fun when it's dealt with as quickly as possible, openly and with love and respect. Of course, conflict can be painful, too, but even when it is, we should not fear it or run from it. How we handle our hassles, how we work through our differences and conflicts, tells much about the kind of people we are and the way we live. It also tells us something about our philosophy and the goals for our marriage. If peace is our objective, we may not risk conflict. If a creative relationship is our desire, we must.

    In working through problems and conflicts there are some steps, or dynamics, of communication that can be helpful. Because they have worked for people we know — and for us — I would like to share them in the hope that they will be useful to someone else in a time of need. I like them, not because they are foolproof (they're not), but because they offer partners the opportunity to minister to one another in the process.

    First, if one partner is really troubled by a problem or situation, the other partner has to resist counter-attacking and just hold his tongue for a while. That does not mean he becomes a doormat or a target for abuse. Perhaps for a short time he has to be dumped on, but the important thing is that he gives the other person a chance to unburden himself.

    The listener in this case is the minister to the other.

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Sometimes he may have to try to extract whatever it is that has built up inside the other. Perhaps a husband needs to communicate that he's having a painfully hard time with his boss. Perhaps a wife is troubled by an interfering mother, or she may be having problems with her boss. Maybe something in their relationship is painful. Whatever it is, it has to come out, and it never will if both partners are wounding each other with their angry barbs.

    When the listening partner feels that the other has finally gotten it all out, that's the time for him to go back over the same ground, asking, "Is this how you feel? Am I getting it right?" He is not agreeing with the other person, he is trying to determine where the other person is. Perhaps the other partner will have to correct him a few times, but finally the listener should be able to say, "Yes, I understand."

    Second, now that the dark river has begun to dissipate, the clear stream of insight can begin to flow. The listener continues to listen, giving the other partner the freedom to explore the cause and sources of his anger. It's important for the listener to refrain from making any suggestions of his own. Let the other person identify his own problems, difficult and halting as that may be.

    Third, once a partner knows what is bothering him he can begin to consider alternative solutions. Again, the listening partner shouldn't try to impose answers on him, although he can help to explore the solutions

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open to the other person. If a boss is domineering, or if a mother is the kind who tries to tell a wife how to bring up her children, what can the other person do about it? And what might the outcome be? Perhaps these same alternatives occurred to the troubled person earlier, but because he couldn't articulate them they seemed to be risky. Now that he is able to talk about them with an understanding listener, they may seem totally different to him. Perhaps a wife may decide that there is a way she can encounter her mother without destroying the relationship, And at this point perhaps one partner maybe able to say to the other, "Honey, just the fact that I'm talking this out with you makes me feel better."

    Fourth, any decision made immediately after an outburst of anger should be reconsidered later. Sometimes, in the wake of an emotional explosion, a person is so eager to compromise that he may regret his decision later. So, after a day or two, the listening partner should talk over the decision with him, asking "Is this what you meant? Is this what we agreed to do?" If the other person has second thoughts, the decision should be altered to include them.

    Fifth, okay — each partner knows how the troubled one is going to deal with the source of his anger. What then? Is the problem solved? Will there never be another outburst over this same issue? Not on your life!

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Here is where the ministering partner must be patient and prayerful... two of the best ways to support the one he loves.

    Usually problems are caused by deep habit patterns. If we human beings were able to change direction on a dime, our lives would be so different. But because many of our responses are conditioned over long periods of time, our old habits usually linger for a while after we begin asking God to break us free of them. As Corrie ten Boom says, "After you stop ringing a bell, there may be a few dings left." No matter how vehemently one partner proclaims that he is going to change his behavior, there's the chance he'll get into the same rut again — possibly again and again.

    What does the ministering partner do when that happens? Does he say, "You dope! You blew it!"? Not if he has faith in the other person's potential. Instead of making the other partner feel like a failure because he goofed, the ministering partner says, "Hey, I'm hanging in there with you. I know it's tough, but I'm praying with you, and with God's help, I know you can do it." And when the day comes that the old response gives way to a new one, no one is more grateful than the ministering partner.

    This process of communication is one more way of submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ... submitting to the need of one partner to be heard and understood. In the last twenty-five years Louie has submitted to me many times — and I to him — in this

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way. We don't take turns or keep score. It happens when it needs to happen. It takes time, emotional energy, and patience on the part of the listener, but the reward of SHALOM (the real peace that comes after struggle) is worth it all. As one couple who has grown in their ability to share deeply put it: "Now we can talk as two human beings instead of paper dolls labeled 'wife' and 'husband.' "

    Communication is work; it is costly; but is is one of the best investments any of us who are married can make.

I love you

If I love you

I must tell you the truth

I want your love

I want your truth

Love me enough to

Tell me the truth.

                   DAVID W. AUGSBURGER

Chapter Five  ||  Table of Contents