While we are in the midst of the craziest transition we have ever attempted, I thought it might be a good idea to intentionally devote some posts to thankfulness. So, each Wednesday, I’m going to post little stories of how someone taught me something. Please add your own story to the comments below, or if you are a fellow blogger and write a Lesson Learned post, please add the link in the comments below. I would love to read it!
Lesson Learned Wednesday 1: Difficult People
I probably should have written this last week and posted it for Sunday, since it was Father’s Day, but well, we’re in transition…that’s kind of like a life hall pass, right?
As I was thinking about all I have learned from my dad, I had a hard time narrowing it down to just one thing. My dad has a servant’s heart. He loves to work behind the scenes, in the orchestra pit, and behind the piano or other instrument. More than anything? I think I learned to deal with difficult people by watching my dad handle the extra-grace-required people in his life.
When my dad was a teacher, I know he came unjustly under fire for a student’s mistake one year. He didn’t badmouth the parent or student. He made his side of the story known in writing to the administration and board. Then, he let it go and got back to work.
As an underpaid music director at a church, he became a target for a family bent on running things themselves. He embraced them as fellow musicians, worked with them week in and out, and then found out they were actively working against him and his ministry behind his back. I knew he was sad that the family was so double-minded. I knew he was angry that so much of his time and energy was spent defending himself against this family. Again, he told the truth, and then he got back to work, eventually resigning, but staying on to play the piano and continue in the church. He didn’t circle the wagons, gabbing behind people’s backs and rallying a war cry against the family—he certainly could have. He didn’t.
Years later I was in a church choir he directed, and I watched him gracefully handle a couple people who ran me up the wall. He always listened to them. He appreciated their time and service, even when they could barely carry a tune. He was gentle, but firm in his directions. More than anything, he welcomed their contribution, knowing that their service was a gift to God—not a tribute to men.
When I run across difficult people, I often think of my dad. If they attack, I speak truth…speak it—not shout it. If they criticize, I rest in the knowledge that I do not live for the approval of men, but Christ who sees and knows my heart. When they just need extra grace, I am quiet, knowing that they are on a journey just like I am. Thanks Dad, for teaching me how to deal with difficult people.