At some point in my life I learned not to accept hospitality on the first offer. Even if I want something, I need two or three invitations.
“Would you like a piece of cake?”
“Thanks. I’m OK.”
“Are you sure? I’ve got plenty, and I can’t eat it all myself.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother at all. Let me go get you some.”
“Well . . . I guess I could eat a small piece.”
I’m not sure where this habit came from, and it really is a habit. I often turn people down at least once even before I give it any thought, even when I realllllly want some cake. Did it start when I was a child with me imitating the culture of my small midwestern town? Did I get it from advice in a Dear Abby column? Or did I pick it up in my host Asian country, where saying yes too soon can be seen as a sign of greediness? Is that it? Do I do it out of not wanting to appear overeager, or could it be because I know that I sometimes make an offer simply out of politeness, hoping I’ll be turned down but still get credit for my generosity?
There’s another offer—or invitation—that is over-easy to decline. It’s when someone asks, “How are you?” We all have our pat answers: Fine. OK. Not bad. Wonderful. Can’t complain. Or we simply repeat back, How are you? And then the conversation, or at least the greeting part of it, is over. Because it is just a greeting, right? They don’t really want to hear about the problems I might have—and I don’t really want to overshare.
Those of us in cross-cultural ministry can get around the risk of vulnerability by pretending we were just asked, “How’s your work going?” and jumping into newsletter or church-report mode. “Things are going great! We had two new visitors at our meeting last week and we’re getting ready to host a college team. How are things with you?”
Or we just go silent, with nothing more than a slight smile or shrug. And rather than being able to pause and listen to the uncomfortable silence, we quickly interrupt it with inconsequential talk. Theologian and author Frederick Buechner writes that “people are very apt to use the words they speak not so much as a way of revealing but, rather, as a way of concealing who they really are and what they really think.” That is why we often fill times of silence with what he calls “verbal camouflage.” It’s something that people in ministry can be very skilled in.
Why do we respond like that when we’re invited to share? Why do we hold back—often to our own detriment? Maybe it’s because we’ve been in situations where we told someone just how difficult things are and their response—Well, we all have troubles. Things could be worse. How about that weather?—lets us know that all they actually were saying was “Hi.” So when I’m asked how I am, my habit is to be polite right back and move on.
But what about the times when I’m struggling and realllllly want to tell someone? Even then, I usually don’t let loose on the first ask. If they’re truly sincere, they’ll ask a couple more times, right?
What if they don’t? Well I might keep the conversation going, feeling the person out to see if they’re invested in talking to me, to see if they’re willing to go beyond surface-level topics, to see if they’re safe. And if I decide those things are true, then I can tentatively, little by little, voice some of my pain.
But that dance takes time and can be easily misconstrued. And sometimes the person on the other side of the conversation can be tentative, too. (I already said I was “OK,” after all.) So I have a request that may be one of the best gifts we can give to someone‚ someone we trust, someone who’s safe, someone we have determined will listen with sympathy or empathy (take your pick). When the time and the place are right, it’s simply saying, “Can you ask me again how I am?”
What a vulnerable question. What a way to express trust. What a gift.
And because you’ve chosen the recipient well, they’ll understand, and they’ll accept the invitation and ask again, and then they’ll listen.
I hope you find at least one person you can honor with this gift, a person who understands just how valuable it is. And if right now you realllllly need to tell someone what you’re going through, I hope you get the opportunity to do it soon.
So . . . How are you?
(Frederick Buechner, “Sunset,” The Hungering Dark, HarperOne, 1985)
[photo: “conversation,” by Mario A. P., used under a Creative Commons license]
