Hard Conversations: We Don’t Know It All

Last week, we began this blog series by naming something many of us already feel deep in our bones: it is hard to have conversations with people who think differently from us. In that blog post, I looked at Jesus’ prayer for unity. If you are new around here and want to get to know me, click here.

Cultural, ideological, personality, and theological differences are inevitable. We encounter people who see the world differently from us on social media, around the Thanksgiving table, at work, in church communities, at the gym, and almost everywhere else.

I joked last week that I’m told there are billions of nerves in the human body—and I’ve met a few people who seem uniquely gifted at irritating all of them at once. Lately, I’ve found myself asking an honest question: Are people becoming more annoying, or am I becoming angrier? And if it’s the latter, what—or who—is contributing to that?

What I do know is this: we are more connected than ever, and yet more emotionally reactive, more polarized, and more deeply entrenched in our own tribes of thought. And that reality is not just “out there.”

It is creeping into the church as well.

We speak faster than we listen.

We share opinions more than facts.

We hit “post” more often than “power off.”

Why Hard Conversations Matter

This series is called Hard Conversations because it is about staying present with one another when life, faith, and relationships get complicated (this blog series also follows a Sunday-morning series at River Corner Church). Rather than withdrawing, reacting, or escalating when disagreement arises, we are exploring how God calls and equips us to remain united in love—even when we disagree.

The witness, unity, and effectiveness of the church are threatened when we lose the ability to stay in relationship, to truly listen, and to keep the main thing the main thing. Differences of opinion are not the problem. The real danger comes when we confuse boldness with truth, volume with conviction, and outrage with faithfulness.

Last week, we looked at Jesus’ prayer in John 17, where he envisioned a church marked by the same oneness he shares with the Father—a unity rooted in love and shared life with God. This series is an attempt to practice that kind of unity in real, everyday conversations.

Not by pretending differences don’t exist.
Not by flattening convictions.
But by learning to engage one another better.

Longer Tables, Lower Fences

There’s an old saying that feels especially relevant right now: We don’t need higher fences; we need longer tables.

That image captures the heart of this series. How do we engage our brothers and sisters in Christ in ways that widen the table rather than fortify the walls? This does not mean selling out our convictions or compromising truth. But it does mean choosing to look at the person in front of us with an intention to listen, learn, and love—especially within the family of God.

The Lord’s Table reminds us of this posture. When we gather around it, Jesus is at the head. We come as brothers and sisters, not rivals. The Spirit realigns our priorities, exposes our defensiveness, and calls us back to what matters most.

Hard conversations require the same posture. We need to remember this image when he gets into hard conversations. Jesus belongs at the head of the table. The fences we raise out of fear need to come down. The table needs to grow longer. I am not suggesting a “compromise” of our beliefs or convictions, but for a continued focus on how to move closer to each other, even in disagreement and difficulty.

The First Affirmation for Hard Conversations

Last week, I introduced the practice of STOP in hard conversations:

• See the image of God in the other person

• Trust their intentions

• Observe common ground

• Pray for blessing and unity

This week, we add our first foundational affirmation to make before we respond to a difficult conversation: God has all truth, but we don’t have a perfect understanding of it.

Most of us can recall a time when we were confident we understood a situation, someone’s words, or their intentions—only to later discover that we were mistaken. Admitting that is hard because we often assume our interpretation of events is complete and accurate.

But the truth is more complicated.

Why We Misunderstand So Much

Our understanding of the world is shaped not only by what we see and hear, but by our past experiences, unresolved wounds, emotional triggers, and internal narratives. Even understanding ourselves can be difficult.

Scripture speaks honestly about this. Jeremiah writes that the human heart is “deceitful above all things and beyond cure—who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). The heart—the center of our emotions, wills, and hurts—shapes everything we do.

That is why Proverbs urges us: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23).

Proverbs also reminds us: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). Our own understanding is limited; that is why we need to be honest about this with ourselves.

To affirm that we do not fully understand truth is not weakness. It is actually good theology.

Scripture and the Limits of Our Understanding

The apostle Paul echoes this humility when writing to the Corinthian church. In words that are surprisingly visual, he admits that we do not yet see things clearly. We are, as he says, “squinting in a fog,” peering through a distorted reflection. Full clarity will come—but not yet. We cannot have full clarity; that is theological.

Paul knew this from personal experience. Before encountering Jesus, he was deeply confident in his knowledge, training, and theological credentials. He had reasons for confidence. And yet everything he thought he knew was undone when he came face-to-face with Christ on the road to Damascus.

To the Philippians, Paul warns against putting “confidence in the flesh”—and then lists his own impressive résumé to show that he knows exactly what he is renouncing. Paul’s confidence is no longer in how much he knows, but in how deeply he knows Christ.

Paul models a way for us, if we can see it.

Love as the Glue of the Church

This brings us to 1 Corinthians 13.

In chapter 12, Paul explains the diversity of spiritual gifts and emphasizes that they are given for the common good. The church is one body with many parts, unified in diversity and purpose. Not everyone is gifted the same way, but everyone belongs.

Then Paul makes a surprising move. He says there is something greater than every gift the Corinthians are excited about.

Not tongues.
Not prophecy.
Not knowledge.
Not faith that moves mountains.

The greater gift is love.

Without love, even the most impressive spiritual activity becomes noise. Gifts are good and necessary, but they are only effective when fueled by love. Love is what holds the church together.

This is why Paul writes what he does in 1 Corinthians 13:8–13—not as poetry for weddings, but as instruction for churches that could be threatened with division because of difference and difficulty.

The gifts serve the love, but they only show in part. Love is the greatest. That is something to remember in hard conversations when our knowledge wants to puff us up.

Seeing in Part, Loving in Full

In 1 Corinthians 13:8–13, Paul acknowledges that our ways of knowing are limited. We see an imperfect reflection, like a distorted image in a polished metal mirror. Full clarity will come when we stand face-to-face with God. Until then, love is the fullest way we participate in truth.

Prophecy, tongues, and knowledge reveal pieces of the puzzle. Love gives us the bigger picture—because God is love. However, we are human; our love can be distorted, our gifts misused, and we can only show part of ourselves. We don’t know what we think we know.

Unity and diversity do not come through certainty alone. They come through maturity. And maturity grows through love.

Perhaps part of loving one another well is admitting that we do not know as much as we think we do.

What This Means for Hard Conversations

We live in a culture of relativism, where truth is constantly redefined, and personal perception is elevated above shared reality. At the same time, followers of Jesus are often accused of arrogance simply for affirming Christ’s lordship.

The problem is not a lack of confidence in truth. The problem is forgetting the distinction between God’s perfect knowledge and our imperfect understanding.

God has revealed himself through Jesus, Scripture, and the Holy Spirit. But we are imperfect recipients of that revelation. History reminds us that sincere, Bible-believing Christians have been wrong before—sometimes with devastating consequences.

This should not lead us to abandon truth. It should humble us.

Practicing Humility in Disagreement

So how does this passage help us navigate hard conversations—especially around cultural and political issues?

1. We must admit that we don’t know it all. The goal is not always to win or convince. It is possible that both people are partly right and partly wrong.
2. We must admit that we could be wrong. We try, sincerely, to imagine a world in which the other person might be seeing something we are missing.
3. We refuse to reduce a person to their opinion. Even deep disagreement does not require the destruction of relationships within the body of Christ.

A Different Witness to the World

Jesus told his followers that the world would sometimes misunderstand and even reject them. But he also said that our love for one another would mark us as his disciples.

When we choose unity over division, reconciliation over outrage, and humility over certainty, we bear witness to a different way of life. A way rooted in the kingdom of God.

This week, look for opportunities to listen, learn, and love in a hard conversation.

Stand confident in God’s truth.
Remain humble about your understanding.

Because God has all truth, and we only know in part.

You can watch this as it was preached at River Corner Church: