The "no, yeahs" and the "yeah, nos" of modern communication

Tara and I were recently laughing with some friends about a strange phenomenon that exists in American conversations.  There are plenty, of course, but I'm talking specifically about the "Yeah, no," "No, yeah" thing that we all unconsciously do when we're conversing.

No, it's not just Californians or Miami natives as the memes suggest.  It's all of us.

On one hand, this is an amusing artifact of speech, much like the "ums" or the "you knows" that proliferate within our conversations (though grammarians might twitch a little bit when we hear other people speaking this way, or realize that we ourselves are doing it!).  To some degree, these habits are just sentence filler.  We don't know what to say, so we say something to keep the conversation from lapsing into awkward breaks of silence while we connect thoughts together.

On the other hand, I think there's something fascinatingly complex about this "nervous tick" of language that we all employ.  It has everything to do with a zealous and ingrained sensitivity to the ways we relate to others.

"Yeah...  No."

TRANSLATION: The answer is no, but I understand where you're coming from and affirm that perspective as a logical, reasoned, and perfectly appropriate way to think.  I in no way intend to convey, by my opposite perspective, that you are in any way to doubt your own position or feel insecure in holding that perspective.  However, I am going to present my alternate point of view.

"No, yeah!"

TRANSLATION: The answer is yes, but let me begin by diffusing any possibility that you might think I disapprove of or disagree with your opinion, which you are perfectly entitled to hold.  I in no way want to misconstrue your original idea or present it as something negative or inferior to my own.  The fact that I am about to supplement your idea with my own thought should not in any way be taken as an argument.

Doesn't that sound like legal jargon to you -- the fine print at the bottom of a bill of sale, or the preface to your tax return agreement?  Ironically, while we are saying a whole lot with very little, we're also doing exactly what all legal documentation does: expressing a simple idea in complex and nuanced language to prevent all possibility of the message being misrepresented.

And in doing so, we of course make it far more confusing than it needs to be.

Americans are in the business of affirming and apologizing.  Even if we are going to unabashedly speak our minds, we're still -- at least in word -- "letting the other guy down easy."  You and I are products of a culture that thinks with the heart it brazenly wears on its sleeve, yet dresses in incredibly thin skin.  We sense the danger in our balancing act of fitting in with our society yet standing out in some way -- a practice amplified to such degrees by the modern, social media lifestyle that it is far easier to retreat to the safety of a 5-inch screen for "real" interaction than it is to hold face-to-face conversation.  We are unabashedly who we are on Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat, but when it comes to in-person interaction, we timorously distance ourselves from the possibility of conflict.

"No, yeah"/"Yeah, no" is pacifying language.  It's verbally tiptoeing around the feelings and sensibilities of others.

I think we've reached a point in our tolerance-based culture where we are in a constant apologetic state.  We apologize for asserting ourselves, for taking our turns, for expressing our opinions.  We are terrified of being seen as bigots when it comes to our religious and social views, and so we are incapable of even disagreeing on sandwich preferences without being neurotically apologetic.

That said, I'm still torn on whether or not to label the mentality behind this as completely negative, because I think it's of the utmost importance for us to know how to be sensitive and thoughtful toward other human beings.  There's no point for Christians to argue the sanctity of life from the Bible if we are just going to treat one another like garbage.  Maybe this quirky habit of language can help communicate our underlying concern for other people's sensitivity.

After all, Paul's epistles are chock full of commentary on the ways in which Christians are to go out of their way to be kind and edifying (Eph 4.29; Col 4.6); to live in harmony with believer and non-believer alike, despite the inevitable differences of opinion that arise between all human beings (Rom 12.18); and to surrender our own preferences on peripheral issues in order to preserve unity within the body of Christ (Rom 14.13; 1 Cor 8.13).  If it's truly important from a Biblical standpoint to prioritize the needs of others (John 13.34; Phil 2.4), then gentle, nuanced, and understanding communication with others is key.

Here's my concern, however.  All believers still need to prioritize integrity and honesty, speaking unabashed truth tempered with loving compassion (Eph 4.15; Titus 2.8).  Just because the world in which we live doesn't want to hear our message doesn't mean we should swallow it and keep it to ourselves.  We certainly shouldn't be characterized by arrogant, in-your-face condemnation.  But we also shouldn't be characterized by the kind of hesitancy that is born out of fearing to challenge others' perspectives.

Affirmations and apologies (in this context) are petty and largely self-interested.

"No, yeah" -- TRANSLATION: I affirm you so you, in turn, will affirm me.

"Yeah, no" -- TRANSLATION: I affirm you so you don't get angry with me for saying what I really think.

In other words, let's avoid conflict at all cost and just give each other shots of validation.  Let's bring the "live and let live" philosophy of tolerance to its only logical conclusion: isolationism, because tolerance can really only result in uniformity, and uniformity -- while equalizing -- is deeply alienating.  The only other alternative is to crush others' individuality with our own and even more dramatically expose the inherent paradox in the coexist philosophy: insisting on my right to think and speak a certain way when it conflicts with another individual's right to think another way means I'm just as intolerant as I claim the other guy is.  Rather than reveal this structural flaw, we hunker down behind barricades of disarming language, affirming and apologizing so none of the landmines ever go off.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life ducking disagreements in everyday conversation.  I intend to be a peacemaker, sure -- whether speaking in-person or commenting back on Facebook.  But being a peacemaker and being a pacifist are two entirely different things.  I want to speak truth boldly to my neighbor, communicating from my heart with kindness and concern, yet seeking even in disagreement to be respectful and understanding and non-confrontational.

So am I using "No, yeah"/"Yeah, no" in my speech because I'm attempting to be considerate, or am I just being a conversational pacifist?    Being conscious of the habitual ways in which we speak to others, and intentionally working toward communicating with clear purpose, can only improve our ability to relate to those around us as we communicate the vital gospel of Jesus Christ to lost and needy people.

Good American ≠ Good Christian

I'm somewhat baffled by the stripe of American Christians who show up on election day in full patriotic fervor, getting to the polls early and posting "I voted" statuses on Facebook to shame everyone else into following suit, who tote out the heavy-hitting quotes of our (obviously Christian) Founding Fathers on the rights to bear arms and speak our minds freely in any given setting... and then disappear back into the woodwork until the next opportunity arises to take a bold political stand on something.

I'm a little concerned by (and for) these individuals, who take up the crusade when their exegetically, biblically-based American rights are threatened, lambasting other individuals who align themselves in different political circles, and yet claim to stand for such things as humility, kindness, gentleness, meekness, and self-control.

When it comes to casting the ballot, I'm surprised at how many Christians present either acute anxiety -- because "What if the wrong guy gets in??" -- or acute rage -- because other clearly unintelligent people are voting for the "wrong guy" and it is the Jesus-given mandate for Christians to educate the masses on why their political opinions are misguided and destructive to our great country.

I'm alarmed at how many people might read any of the above the descriptions and think it applies to someone else.

Don't get me wrong or misquote me.

I'm a registered voter who dutifully went to the polls this morning.  I care about and pray for America and her elected officials.  I am not implying that political issues are unimportant.

What I am saying is that my identity is found in Christ, not in America.  My security isn't in my driver's license, my voter registration, or my social security number -- it's in my Savior.

In that regard, what truly frightens me is how short-sighted our patriotic fervor is.  Yes, maybe we want a great nation for our kids and our grandkids, and it certainly isn't wrong to want safety, decent healthcare, good education, and cheap living expenses.  But this is altogether an incredibly out-of-focus perspective to have if that's what we as Christians are hanging our hats on.

In the light of eternity, does America's status as a great nation really matter?

Are we really making this an issue of stewardship, or are we just concerned that we have comfortable lives for the incredibly brief time that we inhabit this little planet?

Are we actually striking a good balance between living in the present and still investing in the Kingdom of Heaven?

Personally, that's where my citizenship is, and my Commander in Chief is a Savior who died on my behalf and rose from the grave to give me freedom and hope above and beyond anything American life can ever hope to offer.  To pin my constitutional rights on the cross and elevate free speech, gun ownership, and low taxes to the level of Christian rights is to make idols out of good things and cheapen the cost of redemption.

My Savior didn't die to make America great -- not ever, and certainly not "again."

I really believe that if the church truly has an image problem in the eyes of the world (and it does), it's largely because we Christians become far too impassioned about politics and hot-button issues and, in so doing, lose sight of eternity.  We claim to be about higher things but descend instead to the level of embittered patriots.  We tip our hand and reveal that we are far more concerned about the things that happen here than we are invested in what is to come.

In order for us to strike a better balance between actually stewarding well what God has so graciously given still maintaining an eternal perspective, we cannot lose sight of this crucial element.  When it comes to rulers and authorities whose names and policies will only be remembered for a brief time, we can know with certainty that it is God who truly builds the house (the family/the nation) -- not any given candidate (Psa 127.1).  Regardless of who is sworn into office as a result of today's election, the Heavenly Father is not only sovereign over that outcome, but is also building His own Kingdom -- a far greater Kingdom, and one that is not in the least bit affected by the political landscape of human history.  We give ourselves far too much credit if we think that, if we fail to vote in the "right" President, we are somehow responsible for the failure of God's directive.  We know that His purposes comes to pass, regardless of finite human intent (Gen 50.20; Prov 19.21).

In that regard, I'll continue to perform my civic duties as a citizen of the United States.  I'll vote and sign petitions and pay my taxes.  I'll stand for the national anthem, support and respect our military, and speak up when something is disagreeable or contrary to what I believe.

And yet, I'll hold tightly to the reality that America doesn't need to be a Christian nation in order for my God to accomplish His plan, for His gospel to be spread, or for my life to be robust and full -- physically, emotionally, spiritually.  As a child of God, my source of hope, my joy, and my sustenance are all found in one place and one place alone.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Look full in His wonderful face

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace

Therefore Go

But Moses said to the Lord, “Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue.”  Then the Lord said to him, “Who has made man's mouth?  Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind?  Is it not I, the Lord?  Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” (Exodus 4.10-12, ESV)

Intelligent rhetoric and dialogue were high priorities to the Egyptians, whose feats of engineering and complex written language still baffle the modern world.  To Moses -- a man who may have had a legitimate speech impediment, or who may have simply doubted his own ability to communicate -- the task God was assigning him seemed better suited for a more gifted speaker.  Which is why he literally asked God to send someone else, even after receiving three miraculous signs that God promised would verify Moses' testimony to Pharaoh.

The mistake Moses made is a mistake that many of us who find ourselves in leadership or teaching positions (especially ministry-related leadership and teaching) can also tend to make.  That mistake is thinking that I am responsible to make a difference.  In other words, presuming that it rests on me to change people's views, and that if they aren't impressed with me, then I'm failing to do something right.  And when I fall into this kind of thinking, it's easy to allow the monumental task of communicating the Word effectively to eclipse the One who gave me the task in the first place.

This is something I personally wrestle with.  Like Moses, I doubt my speaking ability.  That may be surprising since I'm a writer, but that's exactly it -- I'm far more comfortable with and confident in the written word than I am with my speaking ability.  I cringe at all my own "um's" and "uh's" and harshly critique my word choice after the fact.

What Moses failed (and I often fail) to understand is that -- as God's mouthpieces -- our responsibility  as Christians is not to make a difference, to get followers, or to impress anyone.  If we see those things as the objectives or the signs of success, then we are thinking far too highly of both our own abilities and the role God intended us to play.

As servants, ministers of God's Word, leaders in churches, or messengers of Christ to a lost world, our priority must be to communicate God's Word without getting in the way of the message itself.  When I'm more concerned about impressing the ones I'm teaching, I make the priority my image and not the teaching itself.  When I measure my success by others' estimation of my abilities (or my own estimation of my abilities), then my purpose is skewed and I'll miss any real success my ministry might otherwise have.

"Well, yes, but if I'm doing a good job won't they be affected?"

"Shouldn't my students see me as a leader and have a sense that they can come to me with questions because I have answers?"

This is some of my own sinful reasoning.  Making the focus me, my ability (or inability), and missing the real priority.

I won't beat around the bush.  God's message is the real priority.  I must magnify Him through the communication of His Word, not myself.  THIS is my responsibility, and it means I can let go of my own insecurities and simply walk in faithful obedience.

Is it wrong to want to be wise, so that students can feel comfortable coming to me with their questions?  If that's my goal, then yes -- yes, it is wrong.  It is sin, because I am setting myself up as the guru on the mountaintop who can filter God's Word to those on spiritual journeys, selling truth at the cost of respect -- instead of seeing myself as a servant who has simply been blessed by God with an opportunity to teach and to guide, and making my goal to help them discover the truths of God's Word for themselves as they grow in their faith.  May I never be accused of preaching the gospel out of selfish ambition (Phil 1.15, 17)!  Let me be a guide on someone else's journey with Christ and nothing more -- someone whose only job is to share insight from the Scriptures so that others can get closer in their relationships with Jesus!

It is not my responsibility to make a difference or to impress people.  My responsibility is to understand that God is the one who designed my mouth and gave me my purpose, and that He is the One who is going to make my work effective.  No amount of training, preparation, or study can help me accomplish anything but my erect my own monument -- that is, if I'm trusting in that and not God's provision as my foundation for effective ministry.

My responsibility is to "therefore go" -- "therefore," because God is in control and because He is both the source and proponent of truth; "go," because He has called me out of darkness and into marvelous light to be part of His chosen priesthood representing Him to the nations (1 Pet 2.9).

My responsibility is to trust that God is with my mouth and that He will teach me what to speak (Ex 4.12).

Altogether, this means I am not seeking to be impressive, but to impress gospel truth upon my students.  If I trust that God is truly the creator of my mouth and that He can put the words on my lips -- words sourced from deep study of His Word and the burning purpose of teaching the Word, stirred up by the Spirit acting within my heart -- then (and only then!) can I be an effective minister, teacher, leader.  A faithful Christian.

Are we all called to ministry, to teach God's Word as our vocation?  No.  But we are all called to be disciples and disciple-makers, to communicate the truth of sin, redemption, and resurrection to the world.  I can't shirk that responsibility just because I'm not comfortable talking with people, just because I don't think I have the right words, just because I don't know how to answer all their questions.  If the message of Jesus Christ has truly, radically changed my heart, I can't ignore that calling.

And that's why it's so immensely freeing to remember that it's not my job to change people's hearts.  "Heart change" is not in my job description.  That's above my pay grade!  The role of the Holy Spirit is to bring truth to bear on the heart and mind (John 16.13).  My role is to responsibly, faithfully, and earnestly teach the Word so that the Spirit can effectively work the change.  My role is to be responsible, faithful, and earnest in my task so that those whom I lead and instruct can see not my ministry or my eloquence, but the ministry of the Spirit vitally at work in me and in them.  Through humility, I must direct focus away from myself and onto the God who is truth and Who makes truth known to us (1 John 5.20).

John the Baptist said it best, after all: "He must increase, but I must decrease" (John 3.30).

Lord, use my mouth.  All this for Your glory, not for mine.