Before I Do the Math

My sister props her phone in the dash holder, hits record, and takes me along for the ride, a passenger from halfway across the country. She talks to me all the way to work, and I love getting these little glimpses into her day, especially when she’s excited about a new business idea. But while she’s thinking out loud, my mental checklist starts filling up. How much will it cost? How much time will it take? Who’s going to do the work? Didn’t she try something like this before?

She’s still dreaming, and I’m already doing the math.

I’ve been playing the voice of reason with my little sister since we were kids, and the habit follows me into other parts of my life. In staff meetings, when someone brings up a new idea or plan, I can get practical pretty fast. The same checklist kicks in, and I start thinking through the obstacles before we’ve had much time to consider the possibilities. I want the plan to succeed, but if I’m honest, I also want people to recognize that I’ve thought things through and have something important to contribute.

With my sister, it’s different because I worry about her. I want to help her see the things she might be overlooking, and sometimes I just want her to hear me out and understand why I’m concerned.

A few months ago, my sister left me a Marco Polo on her way to lunch with her childhood best friend. She was her usual animated self, talking about her latest business idea. I didn’t get a chance to watch the messages right away, so when I finally did, I watched them back to back. The second one was different. The excitement was gone. She looked defeated. Her friend had been blunt about the idea, raising concerns that I recognized because I’d had many of the same ones.

Her friend wasn’t being mean or judgmental. She had simply been honest, and I think my sister took it harder than her friend intended. But watching that second message, I felt my sister’s sadness. Even though I agreed with the concerns, all I wanted to do was give her a hug.

And I saw myself in that moment. I didn’t want to be that kind of sister, the one who could be so focused on what might go wrong that she left little room for encouragement.

So I made a choice. I would let my sister dream, plan, and come up with as many business ideas as she wanted. I would listen. If I had something I thought she needed to hear, I would share it. I didn’t have to stop being practical. I just didn’t have to lead with it every time.

Paul writes in Colossians 4:5-6 (NIV):
“Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”

Paul was writing about how we engage with people outside the faith, but Pastor Isaac pointed out that the principle reaches into all our relationships, including the ones closest to us.

In his closing prayer, Isaac prayed, “Sometimes for us, sometimes being right isn’t really right. That is, we’re correct, but it gets in the way of right.”

That’s a hard thing to sit with, because I like being right. But grace reminds me that God moved toward me before I ever moved toward him. He didn’t wait for me to get everything figured out before extending his love.

I’ve been thinking about what that means for my sister. My concerns about her ideas aren’t necessarily wrong. Some really might be difficult or expensive to pull off. But loving her well means letting her gifts and excitement flourish before I start listing all the reasons an idea might not work. I can still be honest when the moment calls for it. I just want my conversations with her to be full of grace, with a little salt sprinkled in, not poured over everything.

I haven’t gotten this right every time. Just last week, I had concerns about another situation with my sister, and I wanted her to hear me out and consider the hard parts I was seeing. But in wanting to be heard, I poured instead of sprinkled.

Now, when my sister props her phone in the dash holder and takes me along for another idea, the checklist still starts forming in my head. I think about the costs, the time, and all the things that could go wrong. But I don’t have to say all of that right away. Sometimes I wait before responding. Sometimes I just say, “Tell me more.”

She’s still dreaming, and I’m learning to enjoy the ride.

This Week
When someone shares an idea you’re not sure about, ask one question that invites them to keep talking before you offer advice or raise a concern. Try “Tell me more.” You may discover that what they need first is someone willing to listen.

Prayer
Lord, thank you for moving toward us with grace before we ever moved toward you. Forgive us for the times we care more about being right or being heard than about loving the person in front of us. Give us wisdom to recognize what each moment can hold and patience to listen before we speak. Let our conversations be full of grace, with salt in the right measure, not poured out before anyone is ready to receive it. Amen.