Safty in Individuals

In the Y locker room after my daily run, I noticed the guy seated on the bench across from me. “Hey, how are ya?” I asked, as he stared at the floor. He looked up with a sad expression and said, “Not good.”

He’s someone I’ve known for several years. He and his family once attended North—and then, one Sunday he gave me hug in the center aisle and walked away, without a word—and then the whole family just stopped coming. No goodbye. No explanation. They were just gone.

I continued to see him at the Y, but he always looked away when I approached. You know, one of those uncomfortable kind of moments. Like there was some unresolved business, something unsaid that needed to be spoken, some wall between us I could not see but unmistakably felt.

Then, one day in the locker room, he walked by and I said, “Hi.” He turned and started talking. He said he felt bad that he walked out of church that day and never came back—that some other members of his family wanted something different—that he should have been man enough to at least say goodbye—that he loved and appreciated the ministry at North—and me—so much—that he was sorry.

I wasn’t sure how to reply, except to say, “No problem. Thanks for sharing your heart just now. And, I love and respect you, too.” That was it. He walked away. Since that day, we’ve talked and laughed and talked more, while passing by. But not this day. Something was the matter. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I inquired. He looked up and said, “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

He began to pour his heart out about some stuff at home—his hopes and fears and doubts. I listened. I responded with some counsel, as best I knew how. We prayed, out loud, together, right there in the locker room at the Y.

“You have always been a safe person for me, Jim,” he said. “Whenever I think I don’t know where to turn or who to talk to, you come to mind. You make people feel safe.”

I suppose that might be true, for some people. But, I can think of several people who wouldn’t consider me “safe,” at all—in the sense that they think I’m overbearing, or too self-focused, or too judgmental, or too... well, you fill in the blank. The truth is: safe means different things to different people, and we’re all perceived one way by some and another way by others. Maybe that’s because none of us manage our relationships perfectly and all of us are very complex personalities.

I’d like to be a “safe person” for others, though. But, how? I’ve been thinking about this lately. Here are some of my conclusions:

(1) Safe people are committed. They don’t bail when a relationship requires some work. They make long-term commitments for the long-haul. You can depend on them.

(2) Safe people are honest. They do not patronize, pretending wrong is right or right is wrong. They speak the truth in love and listen in the same way. Even when a relationship may be strained by the truth, they stand by the truth, knowing, that, in the end, every relationship is strengthened by authenticity.

(3) Safe people have clear boundaries. They know who they are and are comfortable in their own skin. Consequently, they can establish—and enforce—clear boundaries to develop healthy relationships.

(4) Safe people have a generous spirit that is not easily offended and gracious to a fault. They believe the best, hope for the best, and call out the best. They build up, not tear down. They can scrub, but will not scratch.

(5) Safe people walk with God. They know Him. Their knowledge is self-evident, by the way they speak and listen, by the way they sense and process, by the way their heart can be trusted objectively.

(6) Safe people are anchors. They hold steady, they hold others steady, they are constant. Others may come and go, but they always weather the storm.

(7) Safe people say, “I love you,” and mean it. And then, they live up to it.

I’d like to be like that. I want to be part of a church like that. Jesus is like that. We can be, too.