I’m not a very good texter.
There’s a reason for that. During my years practicing law, I never conducted business by text. A text created a written record of a client conversation. Someone could glance over my shoulder in public and read it. If I lost my phone, whoever found it might see it. A family member or friend using my phone could stumble across it. And once the words existed in writing, they could potentially become evidence against my client. An unrecorded telephone call seemed far safer.
That habit carried over into my personal life. Friends and family knew I didn’t pay much attention to text messages and might not answer for hours. If they needed me, they knew they were better off calling. I never developed the habit of checking my phone for messages throughout the day.
These days, I text because everyone else does, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten much better at it.
Sometimes I don’t look at my telephone for hours. Other times I read a text and decide to answer it later. Then I forget, and later never comes. I also leave some messages unanswered because I have nothing better or more to say.
The person on the other end doesn’t know any of that. They only see an unanswered text.
Responding creates its own problems. My typing leaves something to be desired, especially when autocorrect decides it knows what I meant better than I do. Sometimes I make the mistake of trying to explain complicated thoughts by text.
Now that’s a disaster.
Even when the words come out exactly as I intended, they may not communicate everything I meant. Nuance requires more than words. Sitting across the table, a person can hear my voice and watch my face. A text provides none of that. The reader has the words but still has to decide how they sound.
The trouble doesn’t end when the phone dings. If someone doesn’t answer, we wonder why. Even a short response leaves us wondering what happened. Without hearing the person’s voice, we supply the tone ourselves. Then before long, we respond to more than the other person actually typed.
We’re remarkably good at assigning meaning to what another person didn’t say.
Long before text messages, the Israelites nearly went to war over a similar misunderstanding.
Before Israel crossed the Jordan, the tribes of Reuben and Gad asked to settle east of the river on land Israel conquered during the journey to Canaan. Moses agreed, but with one condition. Their fighting men needed to cross the Jordan with the rest of Israel and help the other tribes take their inheritance.
The tribes who settled east of the Jordan kept their promise. Their men fought beside the rest of Israel until the conquest ended. With the task completed, Joshua released them to return home across the river.
Before crossing the river, they built what Joshua describes as “a great, impressive altar” (Joshua 22:10, NKJV).
Soon word of the new altar reached the other tribes. They feared their brothers had built another place to offer sacrifices contrary to God’s instructions. That possibility alarmed them enough that the tribes gathered at Shiloh and prepared to go to war against their own people.
Even with its army gathering at Shiloh, Israel didn’t attack. Instead, they sent Phinehas the priest and leaders from the tribes to confront their brothers.
They asked what the altar meant.
The eastern tribes never intended to offer sacrifices on the altar. Yet they worried that future generations might see the Jordan River as more than a geographic boundary between the tribes.
Over time, the tribes west of the river could question whether those living on the other side belonged with the rest of Israel.
The descendants of the eastern tribes might hear, “What have you to do with the LORD God of Israel?” (Joshua 22:24, NKJV).
They built the altar as a witness to future generations that the tribes on both sides of the Jordan shared a common heritage and the same God.
The western tribes interpreted the altar as an act of rebellion. But after hearing their brothers explain why they built it, they accepted the altar.
Preparations for war ended, and the armies gathered at Shiloh returned home.
How many arguments begin because no one stopped to ask what something meant?
A text might go unanswered, or a friend might walk past without speaking. We know what happened, but we don’t know why it happened.
Joshua 22 reveals that peacemaking doesn’t require us to dismiss something that concerns us. The western tribes didn’t ignore the altar. Instead, they sent representatives across the river to ask for an explanation before deciding what to do next.
Asking a question prevents a lot of unnecessary trouble.
“What did you mean?”
“Did I understand you correctly?”
Or perhaps even, “Are we okay?”
The answer might confirm what we thought, or we may discover that we misunderstood what we saw.
Now I know my silence or short answer doesn’t always carry the meaning that someone may give it. I need to remember that when I’m the one waiting to hear back.
Israel almost went to war with itself over what an altar meant. But once they stopped long enough to listen, they found peace.
God calls His people to live in peace with each other. Sometimes that requires the humility to admit that we don’t know the entire story and the willingness to ask one more question.
About the Author
David Johnson is the co-founder and Director of Ministry at Laurel Mountain Ministries. He is an ordained minister, retired attorney, Bible teacher, and author who enjoys helping people discover God’s truth through practical Bible study. His latest book, PEACEMAKER: A Twelve Session Journey into the Heart of God’s Peace, is available on Amazon.
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