Long conversations

In the world where our attention spans default to rapid exhaustion by sound bites and Twitter feed, I find myself requiring long conversations.

I don’t mean simply hours and hours over one pot of tea, although that’s a lovely thought and certainly part of the concept. By long conversations, I mean the understanding that the issues in play won’t be encompassed in the minutes of a single face-to-face. They must be revisited, wrestled with, deliberately sorted through for all their implications. Implicit is the permission, even the necessity, to remain uncommitted and explore without apology and no deadline. It holds out the possibility that one might change her mind, maybe become a different person--radically or only incrementally.

For example--those who see the world in polar opposites of our views...are they ever won over in street corner shouting matches or dogmatic editorials? Of course not. It’s the interchanges around peripheral issues and common ground where the relationship becomes safe enough to exchange challenges and try on viewpoints where the deepest beliefs are scrutinized for soundness.

Long conversations are where we grow. I hope you can name without much thought that one or two persons with whom you vent and think out loud and negotiate ideas, who let you spill it all without judgment and keep the safe space for you to be undone for a while.

Especially necessary are long conversations within myself. This past year has served to drive deep furrows into some of my convictions. Internal irresolution has forced me to reserve space and time for the question marks, to let the extremes partially dismantle me. Why does it feel so unacceptable to throw two shadows for any amount of time, when we want to get it right with God and it’s important to consider others as well? Do I or don’t I trust God to lead me through the fuzziness to the place He wants me to land, especially when I’ve given Him permission to deal with me?

So I lean into the long conversations. I have learned to be more at home with the lingering but urgent internal interrogation.

Toward the promise,

Lana

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#290

O God

Whom I profess to adore

I have not dealt kindly

  with myself nor

 Made level your highway

  into my heart

But I have asked the question

I have opened my fist

Long ago I put the pencil

  into Your own hand

And tried to flatten myself

  upon Your stone altar

I squirm as You know

But my heart is confident that

Somewhere above the

  thick and faultless clouds

Your glory flashes off the

  pointed and merciful instrument

Of your intention

12-12-2022

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Here’s the link to last week’s issue Two poems.

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#towardthepromise

All Bible verses are from the ESV unless otherwise noted.

© Lana Wildman Image © Image by Michelle Schwartz