Last January, I had two painful conversations, one with each of two of my grown-up daughters (with my third daughter present in sentiment.)  Both conversations were on the same subject, and basically came down to this, “Mom, the way you handle X is not good; it stresses you out, it stresses us out, and we think it would be better for everyone if things changed.” 

Figuring out how to bring up what might be touchy subjects with our parents is something most of my friends and I still struggle with, even though we are in our 50s and 60s, and even if we enjoy a close relationship with those parents.  How much more so with kids who are just in the early stages of adulthood!  Add to that in this case that although, like most of us, I like to think of myself as reasonable, and certainly as “approachable”, the inescapable fact is that I was an untreated bipolar until 2-1/2 years ago.  This meant that for all of my daughters’ growing up years, my moods were mercurial.  I’m much better now than I was, but meds aren’t an instant solution that means now I’m all sweetness and light all the time!  Much as I try to keep a more even keel, I still have more changeable moods than most.  Quite apart from the dynamics of parent/child, and apart from the bipolar, the issue my daughters addressed was no minor one, but one that has been a very important facet of our life for over 25 years.  Any way they approached it, my daughters faced a very high likelihood of hurting my feelings. 

Any one of these factors would be intimidating, so considering all three, speaking up as my girls did took a lot of courage.  More importantly, it was not only a courageous thing to do, it was a loving thing to do.  Sometimes, loving people means being willing to risk hurting them. 

I needed to hear what my girls had to say.  Much as it is true that I have loved doing the particular activity of which my girls spoke, it is equally true that I have grown to feel it an increasing burden over the years.  Rather than talking with my family about what THEY would like to do or seeking suggestions on how I might do what I do differently, however, I had instead simply played the martyr and complained about how put-upon I was.  (I am, alas, a champion whiner.)  It hurt me to have to confront my selfishness, but had my girls not “screwed their courage to the sticking place” and broached the subject, I’d still be stuck in my pity-party of frustration.  They didn’t speak up just to make their own situation better.  They loved me enough to want something better for me as well.    

Solomon had wisdom about this area.  “The kisses of an enemy may be profuse, but faithful are the wounds of a friend.”  Any definition of real friendship would have to include something like, “A real friend will tell me when I’m headed in the wrong direction.”  I am so very thankful to know that my daughters are not only my daughters, but also my friends!  To speak up to a friend is to affirm, “I believe you care about wanting to be better.  I believe you CAN be better.  I want to HELP YOU to be better.  I would rather risk hurting you by speaking up, than suffer the certainty of watching you continue on a wrong path.”  If we are more afraid of how a loved one might react than we are that the loved one will continue in error, who are we really thinking of – the loved one, or ourselves?   

Solomon also said “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”  Sharpening a knife requires that minute particles off the edge must be ground off, a process which sometimes produces sparks.  Yet if those extraneous parts aren’t removed, the tool will never be as useful as it was designed to be.  If we love someone, our ultimate desire has to be to see them become all God created them to be, even if it means that we have to be the one He uses to help take off the bits that are holding them back.  If we let our fear that sparks may fly prevent us from speaking up, we abet that which dulls the effectiveness of our loved one.

Now obviously, we aren’t to go around blithely wounding our friends as if their feelings didn’t matter, nor recklessly causing sparks to fly by justifying it as “sharpening” another. That’s not love, either!   We look to the example our Father sets.  God will not needlessly cause us pain, but neither will He hesitate to point out where we are in error so as to avoid hurting our feelings, or out of fear that we may get angry at Him because of it.  As the saying goes, “God loves us just as we are, but He loves us too much to let us stay there.”  God’s desire is to see us become all that we can be.  If that takes hurting our feelings by honestly confronting us with our sin, then He’ll do it.  If we truly love someone, then the most important consideration in deciding whether or not we should speak up about something is not whether speaking up might hurt the other’s feelings or whether the person might reject us, it is whether we believe strongly enough that their good is greater than our risk.  

Love that is willing to risk hurting this way is ultimately the love that will prove the surest healer, the safest haven, and the truest friendship.