Thou Shalt Offend Pharisees
“Who am I going to offend?”
That is one of the most important questions a man has to ask himself—and answer. This I promise you: you’re going to offend someone! So who will it be? If you’re afraid of offending people, you’ll offend God. If you’re afraid of offending God, you’ll offend people. It’s one or the other!
My advice? Offend Pharisees! That’s what Jesus did, and He did it with great intentionality and consistency.
I’m naturally a peacemaker, and that can be Christlike. But sometimes keeping the peace is just conflict avoidance. Yes, Jesus calmed the storm. But He also rocked the boat! Jesus didn’t avoid conflict; He often caused it. Why? Because Jesus knew that conflict, not comfort, is the catalyst for growth.
Orson Welles gives a famous speech in The Third Man:
In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed—but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.
One of the biggest mistakes I made as a young leader was trying to make everyone comfortable, but in the long run that doesn’t do anybody any favors. I’ve since redefined my job description as a pastor. My job is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable, and the latter is not less loving than the former. It’s more so!
Comforting the afflicted is love.
Afflicting the comfortable is tough love.
It is so much easier to just avoid conflict, isn’t it? So we delay discipline, but in the long run that hurts more than it helps. Or we postpone tough conversations because we lack the emotional energy or courage.
Tough love demands tough decisions, tough conversations.
Jesus could have healed any day of the week, but He often chose the Sabbath. Why? Because He knew it’d be twice as fun! Why not kill two birds with one stone? Heal sick bodies while getting under the thin skin of the self-righteous Pharisees. Jesus knew it would get their goat, and that’s why He did it. He was goading them. And that’s what you do when you love someone. It’s called tough love.
The words of the wise are like goads.
A goad was a spiked stick used for driving cattle. Sometimes we have to say something hurtful in order to be helpful. If we fail to confront someone in their sin, we settle for the status quo. And that’s not loving! If we really love them, if we really believe in them—then we goad them like a cattle driver. Now, let me nuance this a little bit, because it’s not a license to hurt people.
You have to use the right words, at the right time, in the right spirit. If you have an agenda, keep your hurtful words to yourself. If you’re simply venting your frustration or saying something that will make you feel better about yourself, then don’t bother, because it will backfire.
You must genuinely have the other person’s best interest at heart. And bookend your goading with lots of affirmation. That’s how you speak the truth in love.
As I look back on my life, you know who I respect the most? It’s not those who “took it easy on me.” It’s those who pushed me to my potential, then pushed me past it. I didn’t always like it at the time, but their goading led to growth.
Who do you need to goad?
And who have you licensed to goad you?
Playing the man doesn’t allow pussyfooting. Postponing tough conversations only makes them more difficult. It also robs us of the opportunity for growth.
Iron doesn’t sharpen iron without friction.
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