The random honking was faint at first. Then through the trees I could see the flapping of wings as they approached from the East. Now in full view, they banked to the left making a complete u-turn in full formation, gliding as they made their approach down to their landing area. In the final few yards before landing, the 8 or 10 Canadian geese began flapping furiously, landing gear extended, gently touching down and walking to a full stop. All together.
The grace and fluidity of motion and the uniformity with which a flock moves together is one of the reasons I am drawn to Canadian geese. What they do all over the ground after they land challenges their standing in my mind. I was struck by something else they did once they landed that I found rather odd, yet in some way resonated with me: Wherever they landed is where they stood. In other words, they landed several feet, sometimes several yards apart and that’s where they stayed.
Maybe that behavior doesn’t seem odd at first glance, but in my mind, I expected something different. I expected them to move in more tightly together. Even as they moved, though moving as a flock, they still walked at a distance from each other. I got the impression they didn’t know each other, like a Trailways bus moving from city to city picking up passengers, strangers who had never seen each other before, geese that had just joined the pack somewhere along the flight. I am no expert on the migrating patterns of geese so maybe that’s exactly what happened, but I don’t think it was. We have had geese here all summer and my sense is these are the same geese. Again, I’m no expert.
Watching this play out in front of me, I was struck with a sense of familiarity. Something about this scene drew me in not so much as a spectator, but a participant. From the outside I understood, at least in human terms, of what was happening within the goose-culture.
Living Parallel Lives
I would like to say it’s just an “introvert thing,” but it’s not. It’s a human nature thing. Even the most socially extroverted people tend to be guarded. Oh, on the surface, they will talk your ears off, but emotionally and even spiritually, they’re still standing where they landed, staying emotionally at arms length.
Let’s be honest, we don’t like to expose ourselves. We want to share only the best of us—what I call our Facebook selves. We portray images of ourselves that show us with it all together. We talk of the things that make us look the best. We communicate a life that is heavily edited.
I get it. To some degree, I think that’s even healthy to a point. We have to be careful who we expose ourselves to. We need to be wise that we don’t share our deepest hurts and struggles with someone we know or at least are pretty certain will handle it recklessly. Even Jesus, Himself, took this approach. In John 2:23–24 (CSB), “while he was in Jerusalem during the Passover Festival, many believed in his name when they saw the signs he was doing. 24 Jesus, however, would not entrust himself to them, since he knew them all…”. In other words, Jesus didn’t trust just everyone who came to him because he knew their hearts. Admittedly, he had insider knowledge that we usually don’t have, but the point is he was cautiously selective in whom he trusted. That said, he did share deeply with those closest to him. He poured his life into twelve that he chose to trust. Someone might argue that Judas is the spoiler that shows you can’t trust even those closest to you, therefore, there is no one you can really trust. To that, I would say, again, Jesus had insider knowledge and knew exactly who he was getting. Judas was a special case, used by God to carry out the plan for Christ to be betrayed so that the redemption of man could be accomplished. Jesus chose to reveal himself anyway. All things being equal, Ernest Hemingway’s point remains: “You never know if you can trust someone until you trust them.” So, yes, you might get burned. The question is whether it is worth it.
Sharing Dirty Laundry
Several years ago, I was struggling with this very issue. As a pastor, it’s hard to know who to trust and so, too often, you find yourself trusting no one. When someone is burned repeatedly in the same place, a couple of things happen: First, the nerves die and the skin eventually become scarred, resulting in a lack of feeling. Secondly, you eventually learn to stop touching the thing that burned you. That was me. I was betrayed repeatedly in the early days of ministry at my current church to the degree that I felt myself becoming callous towards people. I might minister to them, but it was more clinical than emotional. Further, I stopped trusting people altogether, though one would probably hardly notice. Truth told, I had been doing that for years. Early in my life, I learned not to trust and it was only intensified during those years of ministry.
It’s impossible to have this attitude and hold everything in and it not affect those closest to you. It finally came to a head in my marriage when my wife said we had to get counseling or, despite our commitment until death parts us, she wasn’t sure we were going to make it. Deep down, I had to concur. I agreed to go to counseling with a certainty we were going to help her work through her issues, with not even a thought that I had anything wrong.
During counseling, I found more questions being directed at me which was somewhat alarming. I thought we were here to fix her! Our counselor ended that day asking if I could come back and have some time with just him. Reluctantly (and rattled), I agreed.
It was during one of the sessions where, having decided I might as well make the most of it, I let many of the walls fall down and I became honest (especially since I was paying him and he was bound by law to keep it to himself!). His response to my story was a simple statement that has haunted me to this day, and that I have shared many times since: “What a horrible thing to go through your entire life and not be able to say that you are truly known by a single person.”
I wasn’t. No one really knew me, including my own wife. I came to realize that I didn’t even really know myself. I think that’s why David cried out in Psalm 139:23–24 (CSB): “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my concerns. 24 See if there is any offensive way in me; lead me in the everlasting way.”
David didn’t even know his own heart and so he had to cry out to God teach him and lead him. Yeah, that was me, too.
I had to learn that trust wasn’t going to be easy but it was going to be necessary. Many times, like Hemingway, I wasn’t going to really know if I could trust someone until I actually trusted them. Praying for discernment, I did. Little by little, praying all along. I started with my wife and worked my way outward. Often I would start by sharing a little bit of my story of mistrust and hurt before I would finally say, “So, I feel I can trust you and I want you to really know me.” Thankfully, God has put several godly brothers around me strong enough to handle that and I have grown through it. You need that, too!
A Kingdom Requirement
For a follower of Jesus, it isn’t optional. We were made in the image of God, the Imago Dei, and therefore are wired for community. God, Himself, being three distinct persons in one Godhead lives in a perfect, eternal community with Himself. I can’t begin to explain it, but I believe it to be true. Experientially I know this to be true because I am most miserable when I am lacking community, even though I am an introvert who must be recharged through time alone.
We need each other. We need the accountability that safeguards us from going off the rails, drifting away into sin, or chasing after every shiny thing that promises joy but delivers inevitable sorrow. We need the protection of the Kingdom-family for that mutual protection. Divided, we are easy prey for a hungry wolf, a wiley coyote, or prowling lion seeking whom to devour.
We need each other to share our hurts, too; to cry with us, and also to celebrate our accomplishments and joy. It is in the sharing that joy is made complete. How sad it is when we receive great news and have no one with whom to share it.
Chow time!
I think my geese friends must have been Baptists because the only time they really got close was when they ate. Now, let’s not go crazy here, they still acted like they were alone, but they were close together over a common cause: food!
What I found sad is that they missed a great opportunity for real community. They could have honked at each other a few times or at least looked up to acknowledge they weren’t there alone. Instead, they kept their gaze on the ground and their minds on the meal.
That is a lesson we as Kingdom exiles need to learn how to do better. We need to take advantage of those opportunities we have to share in something we have in common (like eating) and really get to know each other. Yes, it takes intentionality but everything worth anything does. We have to make a point to go deep; to ask real questions about life and be prepared to answer those asked of us. We need to engage in “Gospel-conversation” where we expose those areas in our lives that need attention, encouragement, or prayer. We need to challenge each other as we develop deep friendships in a relaxed, safe environment.
On your mark, get set…
To me, geese are really cool to watch. I love the way they fly and fall into a perfect “v-formation,” sharing the work of cutting through the wind as they alternate positions up in the front. All of these are things that, if we ponder for a while, we can learn something from, but I don’t want the kind of community that geese have. Yes, they move together in packs, but the Church has to do better than just gather. We need to engage!
