I Never Thought of It That Way

Can God help us to better love our neighbor?

Last week, I was getting coffee with a friend*. And he said something that really bothered me.

Me: "I was hanging out with my cousins-in-law, and I just learned that they rebelled against their conservative Christian parents in XYZ really cool (and totally mature and responsible) way."

Him: "With parents like that, it makes sense they'd rebel."

Me (realizing I had given the wrong impression about the parent-child relationship): "No, you don't understand. I think XYZ is awesome, but just to clarify: their parents are actually really amazing."

Him (sarcastic): "Yeah I bet they are."

I was floored. My friend had just implied that my inlaws, who I love to death, were bad parents. And why? He didn't know anything about them. He had never met them. But he knew they were conservatives, and that they were Christians. That was enough for him to make a snap judgment that they must be bad parents and that their children's rebellion must be symptomatic of deep issues in the parent-child relationship.

It takes a little bit to knock me off kilter, but that comment left me seething. First, because I love my inlaws. And, because they're related to my wife, I'm pretty protective of them. And second, because I'm also Christian; and by my friend's standard, I'm pretty conservative. Did he think I was going to be a bad parent?

Our conversation carried on, but it was stilted. My heart wasn't really in it. I was still pissed, and I didn't know how or if to bring it up.

Finally, I excused myself to the bathroom, where I took a moment in the quiet and the stillness to pray: "God, what do you want me to know about what my friend just said?"

Immediately, the answer came back in what I've come to recognize as God's tone: peaceful, joyful, uplifting, and infinitely loving.

"My cherished son, your friend isn't responding to your inlaws at all. He doesn't even know them. He's thinking about his own parents."

That hit me hard. I knew my friend's parents. They were conservative. And Christian. And while I didn't know the full story, I knew that parents and child had had a pretty fraught relationship for years.

In a flash, my whole perspective on the conversation changed. I stopped seeing my friend as an asshole who was just flippant about attacking my wife's family and my faith. Instead, I started seeing him as he truly was: as a man who didn't mean any harm, who loved me deeply, but who was also in a lot of pain. My anger vanished, replaced in an instant by deep love and care for my friend; and I rejoined him at our table and we had a wonderful time together.

The whole thing strikes me as an example of what Mónica Guzmán (Senior Fellow at Braver Angels, a national nonprofit focused on reducing our fear and anger towards people across the aisle) calls an INTOIT moment. INTOIT stands for I Never Thought of It That Way.

INTOIT moments are nothing short of remarkable. They're moments where we can learn something new about a person, or see a new side of a contentious issue. In a flash we can find our judgments replaced with curiosity, our certainty replaced with surprise…or, in my case, my anger replaced with love.

With enormous respect to my friend Mónica (who I believe is a Buddhist), I think that God is the king of INTOIT moments. Think about it. God knows literally everything about every single one of us, down to the smallest hairs on our heads. He knows our worst pain and our greatest fear. When we screw up, he knows the pain which coupled with the (often good) intention to drive the screw-up.

And, in my experience at least, he's always willing to tell us something new about a given person or situation; something that will make us see them with new and more loving eyes.

I've seen this with online trolls. A few months ago, an online stranger lashed out at me. I was tempted to fight back. But God had other ideas. When I paused in order to ask God what He wanted me to know about my interlocutor, the answer came back loud and clear: "He's in as much pain as you were when you used to lash out like he is now."

And just like that, my whole perspective shifted. Suddenly, instead of wanting to reach through the screen and throttle the stranger, I just wanted to give him a hug. I typed what I felt from God to be a loving message and moved on with my day, hoping that I had been able to shine some kind of light into the other man's heart.

I've found that God is especially generous with INTOIT moments when I'm asking about myself. A couple of weeks ago, I was worried about money; and, as I wrote to you all, I started to get pretty down on myself. I started to feel shameful and worthless, like my low income meant that I was a bad person. After a few days of spiraling, I decided to ask God what He thought of me. And the answer came back: "You are my cherished son, and I would love you just as much if you never made a dime in your life." It was an INTOIT moment that breathed new life into me.

It's easy to see why I love INTOIT moments when it's God telling me something new and hopeful and wonderful about myself. But why do I love them so much when God shows me something new and hopeful and wonderful about someone else?

For one thing, because loving someone beats the hell out of stewing in anger at them. I could have ruminated and obsessed over my coffee friend's comment for days. But one INTOIT moment, and I felt that anger bleed out of me to be replaced by care and tender love. Those are way better emotions to spend your life with.

But second, I think about all the times that I've screwed up in my life; and how desperately I just wanted people to see, not the screw-up, but the pain and the good intentions behind what I had said or done. I think about how badly I wanted my coworker who I snapped at a few years ago to know that I was reeling from years of recently-unrepressed abuse and that I was doing my absolute best to not rip everyone's heads off. I think about the person I yelled at during this past holiday season, and how desperately I wanted him to know that I had been having an awful week and that it wasn't about him.

In short, I wanted grace. I craved it, especially when I screwed up.

Once I realized that, I realized how silly—how cruel—it would be to deny someone else what I had so desperately wished for. I realized that if I wanted people to see the pain and the heart behind my mistakes, then how could I not seek an INTOIT moment to show me the pain and the heart of people who made mistakes towards me? What kind of asshole would I be if I craved grace for myself while deliberately withholding it from others?

Next time someone says something that we find hurtful, maybe we should seek an INTOIT moment. Maybe we should ask God what He, in His infinite love for both ourselves and our interlocutor, wants us to know about the other person. The answer might brighten our whole day. Perhaps even more importantly, it might brighten theirs.

*Because I'm speaking in less-than-flattering terms about this friend's family, who I actually love and whose good name I do not wish to drag through the mud, I changed the details of our interaction. The conversation itself remains true, however.

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