By: Jeremy BerryI was nervous to make the phone call. Back and forth I walked, no doubt wearing out the strip of carpet. I tried rehearsing the lines of what I thought I’d heard. I hadn’t really perfected the art of expressing this new found faith. Plus, we didn’t grow up religious, so it was hard for me to explain. But given how much I loved my brother, I felt it was my duty to not only tell him about my conversion but to stress to him that he too needed submit to King Jesus. So I dialed the number and decided the best course of action was to shoot from the hip.
“I’m a Christian now,” I said. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from Jonathan.
“Oh…” He said with a hint of disappointment and a splash of confusion. “So does that mean you’re like grandmother now?”
I didn’t know how to answer the question. It seemed like a loaded question. I was an eighteen year old stallion, not a geriatric. I wasn’t about to start embracing old people hobbies such as naps or comparing illnesses. A sense of panic rushed through me…was I going to become like a grandmother? I never remember her listening to music and if she did, no doubt it would have been lame church choir music. My plan was to still bang out to Sublime’s “Smoke to Joints” or get lost in a 15 minute instrumental by the Dave Matthew’s Band. Would my hobbies have to change?
Maybe he was asking if I’d begin to look “churchy.” You know what I mean, decked out in pastel colors and sweaters, looking like a carbon copy of Mr. Rogers. Would I have to get rid of my corduroys, my Green Day t-shirts, my Birkenstocks (it was the 90s), and replace them with sweaters, polos, and khakis? It occurred to me that I hadn’t read the fine print before signing up for the Christian thing.
But maybe he meant it at less surface level. No one was more kind, sweet, gracious, and loving than my grandmother. Maybe he was asking if I would have her character! Despite her being old, which she couldn’t help, we loved being around her. She had a warmth about her. We used to joke if it were possible to make the woman angry. The best description of my Grandmother would be to call her gentle.
We didn’t grow up around Christians. She was the staple Christian I knew. She was always taking about Jesus and always telling us about the Bible. She was always kind about it, always respectful, but very pointed. Maybe this is what he meant.
So I answered honestly. “I don’t know.” I said, wrestling with it all. “Possibly, kind of, but not in the bad ways.” I stuttered around trying to bring clarity but sounded more like I was scatting.
I tried to explaining to Jonathan that in essence, I didn’t have to change much. I just would go to church like Grandmother and read the Bible (once I bought one). As I explained that I was still me, I had to move on to the harder part. I had to convince my brother that he should consider being like grandmother as well. As planned, I shot from the hip and injured both my own witness and my brother.
The phone call ended. He and I didn’t speak for almost two years.
It wasn’t hearing that I was going to be like Grandmother that scared him off or that hurt him deeply. It was in fact, that I was not like grandmother. In my desire to quote the Jesus I had never really read, I said, “Dude, if you won’t be a christian then you’re obviously stupid!”
I was smug, rude, over-confident, uncaring, unloving, ungracious, and most certainly not gentle.
Gentleness was a fruit that seemed to sprout last in my life. Even as I grew in my understanding of Scripture, gentleness was but a word. To be gentle was like being weak. Like a frail geriatric or a weak granny unable to fight. The same gentleness that was missing in my conversation with my brother was missing as I became fanatic about apologetics. I listened and read great debaters, teaching and telling me how to prove others wrong. I would argue with anyone at anytime about anything. I would argue at work about the existence of God and I would win! I would stand on the corpse of my defeated foe, flexing my mental might. Gentleness you say? War has no place for gentleness. I felt like a knight in Gods army like the apostle Paul, “proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance.” - Acts 28:31
After the apologetic phase, I discovered the internet and a website called the Youtube! I was introduced to Mark Driscoll, who taught me much about the bible, but little about gentleness. I was in my cage stage era and whoever disagreed with me biblically was worthy of being burned at the stake. Everyone I disagreed with was a heretic, a false teacher, or just “obviously stupid!” I was on a mission to live out Acts 4:29, “And now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness…”
Despite all the reading, learning, watching, education, or degrees I gained; I still lacked gentleness.
Gentleness would grow but first arrogance, entitlement, and a deep ungodly thirst for revenge needed to die. The prideful are rarely gentle and any signs of it are but a mask. Gentleness is to be humble, to be polite and self-controlled. In my ignorance, I pitted gentleness and boldness as opposites. How can I be bold if I must be gentle?
I wondered, what would Jesus do? Our King wasn’t some weak, metrosexual, gentle Jesus! He flipped tables, he fashioned whips and beat people for their rebellion. Jesus is out there calling people sons of Satan, snakes, and hypocrites. Name calling…now that was a talent I had!
Doesn’t Jesus say, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth”? I also saw in Scripture that the gentle are rewarded. It perplexed me. Why would the lame and weak get to inherit anything?
It wasn’t that I couldn’t see that the Bible commanded me to be both gentle and bold, rather it was my misconception about each. Gentleness is not weakness and it’s not lacking boldness. Grandmother spoke to us unbelieving heathens with boldness about the gospel, yet there is no other word that describes her better than gentle.
Scripture commands both, at the same time.
“And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth.” - 2 Timothy 2:24–25
Gentleness doesn’t mean weak. It doesn’t mean being geriatric. Boldness doesn’t mean loud or obnoxiously opinionated. I had sacrificed gentleness to be quarrelsome and called it boldness. Not only does this passage show us that we are to correct in gentleness, but that the Lord uses that gentleness to grant them repentance.
My brother stopped speaking to me. Thats what my version of “boldness” got me. When he asked me, “So does that mean you’re like grandmother now,” I wish I could have said, “yes.” I wish I could have mimicked Margret Berry, as she mimicked Christ, who has shown me nothing but gentleness and patience.
In all her years, she managed to have Jonathan’s ear. Never did he end a conversation with Grandmother yelling or name calling. She understood the power of words and actions. When bold words are packed with arrogance, someone will be wounded. Yet, if we boldly proclaim with humility and gentleness, love will be heard. Jonathan never questioned her love or care because her words and actions were laced with gentleness. Yet she spoke more scripture to him than he had ever heard. She prayed and told Jonathan about Jesus with greater clarity than I could imagine. She didn’t listen to Sublime or share his hobbies. What was her appeal? It was simple gentleness.