How many times does a parent speak this word to an older child when his new little brother is born? I remember when my 2 year old, Grey, came to the hospital to meet his newly born brother, Reese. As I lifted Grey onto the hospital bed and rested Reese in his lap, I repeated the word “gentle…gentle.” And the word held sway until the final pat, aimed almost intuitively for the weakest spot on Reese’s tender head, was landed. Thwap! The meeting was officially over. Grey eased himself off the bed and began playing with the new toy that we bought for him as consolation and distraction.
As parents we call our kids to deal gently with a little brother’s frailty. Gentleness is required if a larger, stronger brother is going to deal with the inherent weakness of his smaller sibling. But little children are not the only ones that need to be reminded to “be gentle...gentle.”
Humans are a much weaker and frailer than we want to acknowledge. The longer we live, the better we adapt to these weaknesses. Fashioning cover-ups and distractions to keep others from seeing these weaknesses. We develop a great sense of humor to cover insecurity. We drive ourselves to succeed at work when we feel relationally inept. We hand off tasks that we are weak at to other more competent people. In order to avoid shame, we cover up, we distract, we hand off. So, why is it that if we know how desperately we seek to not have our weaknesses exposed, that when we see our spouse’s weakness, instead of covering it or treating it kindly, we treat it with harshness?
As parents we call our kids to deal gently with a little brother’s frailty. Gentleness is required if a larger, stronger brother is going to deal with the inherent weakness of his smaller sibling. But little children are not the only ones that need to be reminded to “be gentle...gentle.”
Humans are a much weaker and frailer than we want to acknowledge. The longer we live, the better we adapt to these weaknesses. Fashioning cover-ups and distractions to keep others from seeing these weaknesses. We develop a great sense of humor to cover insecurity. We drive ourselves to succeed at work when we feel relationally inept. We hand off tasks that we are weak at to other more competent people. In order to avoid shame, we cover up, we distract, we hand off. So, why is it that if we know how desperately we seek to not have our weaknesses exposed, that when we see our spouse’s weakness, instead of covering it or treating it kindly, we treat it with harshness?
There are fewer things more intimate and more emotionally arousing than being with another person in the moment of their weakness and shame. It stirs up all of our own stuff. For some, it stirs Fear that “if my spouse is weak, he or she will not be able to take care of us or the business of life.” For others it stirs Frustration or Confusion at the persistent nature of your loved one’s weakness and its resistance to healing Shame and Contempt stir for others, with voices that say “This is not the man I married. The person I married is capable, strong, and ‘better than this.’ And what does it say about me that I married such a weak individual?” Helplessness overwhelms some when they see weakness in another. When a husband comes to realize that there is nothing he can do to fix, heal, or undo his wife’s brokenness, a feeling of helplessness overwhelms, which brings on its own set of overwhelming emotions. These feelings (fear, frustration, shame, contempt and helplessness) can flood a spouse and disable him or her from responding with any kind of touch.
I remember playing basketball in high school, and one of my biggest struggles was shooting the ball when I was under any kind of pressure. As the guard got closer, as the pressure increased, my ability to shoot the ball with any touch or finesse disappeared. The fear of screwing up, the frustrating nature of the defense, the embarrassment I was beginning to feel, the sense that I was helpless against it…any and all of these would hit me, and inevitably, I “bricked” the shot. No back spin. All Arm.
In that moment when a player was feeling afraid, embarrassed, ticked off, or helpless, I can remember coaches and fathers telling their players and sons to “breathe…ease up...easy…” Though the word wasn’t used, they were speaking to their sons in that moment “Gentle…be gentle.” It is not over-compensating strength that is needed in that moment, but gentleness to make the play. That word, “gentle,” is what every player needs to hear in that moment to help him breathe, settle in, and make the next play a good one. And I think this word is what every spouse needs to hear in those moments where the next words and actions are going to count too.
Whether it’s in the midst of a basketball game, or a moment of seeing a spouse’s weakness, I think the same emotional dynamics are at play. A husband sees his wife’s weakness, he understands that this moment is important and that his next actions and words are important, but he is flooded by some or all of the emotions above. He feels the pressure, he feels overwhelmed and… BRICK!!! He speaks with unkindness, throws his arms up in frustration, or walks away not knowing what to do.
If we are going to be able to approach our spouse, or our children or friends, with gentle strength, we must face our own fear, shame, contempt, and helplessness so as not to be overwhelmed by them in the moment. Eventually, as these powerful feelings are recognized and worked through, a person will no longer feel overwhelmed, disabled, or driven by them. In those moments where a spouse’s weakness is exposed; in a moment of conflict; when the next words said or actions taken are going to be important, a husband can say to himself “gentle…easy…,” and then move toward his wife with tender strength.