Gentleness in Truth

Grandma Hamrick was one of the most gentle, loving women I have ever known.

She was kind-hearted, tender, and always willing to help. Even today I hear from older people in the community who she taught. They speak of how she took time to be kind and help all her students. Though gone for nearly two decades now, her gentle memory still echoes in the hearts and minds of those whose lives she touched.

Though Grandma was always gentle, something else also marked her life: she was convicted of the truth of the Gospel. A tree planted beside a flowing stream (Ps. 1:1-6).

I have a memory of Grandma from when I was young and foolhardy. My cousins and I would stay over at her house for a week each summer. We would help around the property by mowing the lawn and cleaning her shed. We would roam about her four acres of land picking up the squadrons of gumballs that fell from her army of sweetgum trees. Carefree summers.

One summer evening, after working in the yard, I wanted to stay at the kitchen table and eat peanut butter and apples sprinkled with cinnamon. Grandma said it was time to go to bed, but I disagreed. I wasn’t that tired. Besides, the food was hitting the spot. It was summer. No school, no rules. So I thought.

When she asked again, I demurred and told her it wasn’t that late. Like I said, young and foolhardy. Besides, I wanted to eat more. She didn’t ask again. She walked over, took my left arm just above the elbow, and led me to the entrance of the bathroom where she kindly told me to gather my clothes, take a bath, and get to bed.

I still remember her grip. Gentle, but firm with conviction. I resisted at first, but she would not let go until she had led me through the living room and into the doorway of the bathroom. My grandmother was gentle and kind, but she would not back down. She would never give in to something she thought was wrong.

That image is what the Christian life ought to reflect: gentle, but firm with conviction.
Christians shouldn’t shy away from the controversial topics of our day. But we should never give in to the modern way of discourse: using sharp words and blunt speech to cut others down and “tell it like it is.” Our society currently clamors for this type of man or woman and calls those who attempt to be gentle nothing but milquetoast – a word that conjures up a less-than-flattering image of sopping wet bread that falls apart when picked up. Squishy, mushy, soft – unappealing and unappetizing. No men like that. No Proverbs 15:1 men. No more soft answers, only strong ones will do.

But nastiness isn’t a virtue. Petty, biting words aren’t displays of strength. A gentle man does not necessarily fold under pressure.

Like the verse about truth and love, gentleness and conviction are not opposites but complements. To speak the truth, especially when unpopular, requires conviction. One must believe the truth is worth defending. And to tell it in love requires gentleness, resisting the urge to pound their opponent into the ground with words.

When Paul wrote to encourage Timothy to “kindle afresh the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands” (2 Tim. 1:6). He did not say to be loud and boisterous and obnoxious, shouting down and belittling unbelievers and babes in the faith. No, he reminded him of three things God’s Spirit has given us: “power and love and self-discipline” (2 Tim. 1:7).

If someone speaks the truth but does not do it in love, they fail to fulfill God’s command. If someone seeks to love their neighbor but distorts the truth, they fail God’s command. God’s Spirit gives us the power to preach that all authority comes from God, and to not be afraid when facing rejection or persecution. He gives us love to plead with all to repent and believe. He also gives us the love to turn the other cheek, to be spat and laughed at, and to endure all ridicule if it means that person will hear the truth of the Gospel. And He gives us the self-discipline to resist the way of the world, to bless those who persecute us, to follow the way of Christ, and to love our enemies.

While the loud clanging cymbals of the current culture war can drown out gentle voices, they never do so for long. Our society continues to rage as every nation has. But people eventually tire of the loud, unorganized shouts that grow louder and louder, seeking reprieve in something more substantial. Elijah found God in the still, small voice; Solomon said through patience rulers are persuaded – a gentle tongue can break a bone.
I don’t always live up to this ideal. Sometimes I pull my punches when I should be more forceful in my conviction; other times I don’t hold back, forgetting the other person was created in the image of God. But as a Christian, I never want to give up on that ideal. It matters what we do, how we act, and the way we live.

Grandma was a walking reminder of that truth. I rarely heard a raised voice, but I did listen to her stand firm in the truth, unwavering in both gentleness and conviction. Her example and way of life points me to Scripture, which teaches me to walk in the gentle and lowly steps of our Savior.