I’ve been giving some thought for a while now on how to manage difficult situations in the most Christ-like way I can. Preserving decency in poor relationships is the biggest challenge I’ve faced and this post is the first in a series where I’ll share what I’m sorting out about trying to find common ground with difficult people and situations.
Mom. Employee. Manager. Daughter. Friend.
As the years go by, we pick up more and more job descriptions for each season of life. Along the way, we build relationships with the wide range of people we encounter. This has historically played into my strengths as I’m the type known for never meeting a stranger and I have always had many friend groups going at any one time in life. But even for the “people person” in me, as life becomes more complicated and as my literal social network continues to grow and diversify, the inevitable has occurred as some relationships – both brief interactions and long-term people in my life – have reached a point of conflict and discord. It doesn’t happen often for me, but when it does it sticks with me.
This discord sticks with me because it isn’t characteristic of my relationship pattern. Even in friendships that cool for a season, for me there is usually some lasting affection that keeps the relationship memory a positive one. But from time to time there are those that crash and burn. Sometimes, I’m the one who dive-bombed things either by being short with a person I briefly encountered or by storing up resentment and frustration with a friend only to let it fly when I hit my boiling point. When this happens, my heart breaks at my own foolishness. When possible, I apologize and seek a path to move forward with the friend, colleague, or stranger I used my verbal buzz saw on when they rolled their suitcase over my toe for the umpteenth time on our (amazingly short but long) elevator ride (true story).
But, what happens when the other party is the attacker? Or is unrepentant? How do we handle people who are difficult from the get go or difficult for a season? And what do we do when those people are not a chance, brief encounter, but rather people we must work with, live with, and try to succeed with?
Let’s face it. Those types of relationships are in all of our lives. Relationships that we must make “work” somehow but the work it takes to make it “work” is baffling, discouraging, and often feels one sided. In those difficult relationships, I find myself feeling like I’m the only one trying to make it work and if I’m not careful the scorekeeping begins. If a relationship must work – whether it be professionally you’re on the same team and you want to succeed, you’re volunteering on the same project and want the organization to benefit, or you’re co-parenting and desperately want your children to thrive – scorekeeping has to stop and at least one person in the complicated equation has to relinquish the need for fairness and equity. Ideally, both would give that up but if you both did the relationship wouldn’t be complicated and the rest of this post would be pointless.
So, what do we do when we’re the ones that have to drop any illusion of fairness and equity in a relationship in order to achieve our ultimate goal?
First, we have to come to terms with what we are called to do. We are called to carry our own load – that’s Paul’s language to the Galatians.
“But let each one test his own work, and then his reason to boast will be in himself alone and not in his neighbor.For each will have to bear his own load.”
Galatians 6:4-5
My language would be that we are called to “mind our own little red wagon.” That’s what my dad used to tell us when my sister and I were busy worrying about what the other one was up to.
So, in all relationships – including the difficult ones – we are to stay in our own lane, worry about what we need to do rather than what the other person may be doing, and we are to test our own work. For me, testing my own work is holding it out in the light to make sure my motives are pure and right. If I stay focused on my own work and I am testing my choices to make sure they are driven by pure intentions, then I can let go of the need for fairness.
Bearing my own load – and not worrying about how much or how little the other person is bearing – removes the focus off of what someone else is or is not doing and directs my thoughts and attention to what I should be doing. That’s ultimately what I can control, right? When we are confronted with difficult relationships that we must work through, letting go of the illusion of fairness and bearing my own load are the first steps I must take to move forward.
