I once had the privilege of working with a group who had just discovered this new fangled and exciting form of governance, called “consensus.” Some of us groaned, audibly even, but to no avail. We didn’t groan because we were “uneducated,” “uniformed,” or “unwilling to try new things.” We groaned because we were downright prophetic and knew exactly where the bottom of that pit was.
It was as bad as you imagine or perhaps even worse. Down twinkles, all around. If you know what “down twinkles” are, I am so very sorry.
I just want to dispel a couple of things here, and I’m going to deliberately sound very non specific, but we don’t have divisions locally on the ground where I live, “because you just need to learn how to communicate better.” I am not “misunderstanding” or “just needing to be informed,” or “failing to communicate,” I am flat out disagreeing. Like, you could wrap that crap sandwich up in strawberries and whip cream, but I’m still not going to be eating it.
Because the crap sandwich itself is the root problem, not me. I am not “lacking substance,” unable to communicate, or “overly sensitive.” What I am is unwilling to eat your mud pie.
I’m actually so used to disrespect, I usually just ignore it. I often don’t even see it anymore. Totally conditioned. Or at least I was, not so much anymore. Today I am asking much better questions like, “IB, why in the world do you even try to negotiate and communicate with people who obviously don’t respect you?”
I don’t know? Because hope always rears it’s ugly head? Because I have these ideals, these values that seem to insist we can all work together in a culture of honor and respect. It is crushing, painful, disappointing when I realize that is not always possible.
Like when people are being intellectually dishonest, disrespectful, and I have absolutely no interest in building a “consensus” over whether or not I should cheerfully eat your crap sandwhich and just be grateful for it. The worst, the very worst, are perpetual virtue signaling, endlessly patronizing, elitist Christians.
Lord, don’t ever let me sound like that, be like that, or treat other people like that. Keep me down low where the air is still fresh, the struggle is still real, and the approval of others is not needed.