To start, be careful out there this morning. The wind is crisp, and the roads are somewhat snowy. Still, you can make it to church.

The weather was a lot worse yesterday, and I spent most of yesterday’s late morning and afternoon at a bustling volleyball tournament in Brighton at the Legacy Sports Arena. I’d never been to such a place or event. When I say bustling, I mean it. It took me thirty minutes to find a place to park. When I finally got inside to see my daughter play, I discovered a packed house.

It would seem that when something is a priority, weather is not really an issue.

Interestingly, I listened to the folks around me (people from places less than twenty miles away) talking about how most had rented hotel rooms near the arena to ensure their kids wouldn’t miss a moment the entire weekend. By the way, the tournament continues today, and Evelyn’s team is scheduled to play this morning at 9:00 am. She won’t be there. Her coach knows it. Evelyn will be in worship. There is no higher priority than being with her Savior.

Well, on to something else I’ve been thinking about all week. It was a rough week in a person-to-person sense. Relative to one-on-one communication, I’ve learned a lot in my half-century of life. I probably don’t need to share two of the most important lessons I’ve learned because you likely already know them. You already know at least two rules that, when applied, can save an eroding relationship and lay the groundwork for repairs.

The first rule is to listen attentively. Attentive listening involves far more than one’s ears. A careful listener hears everything said and a whole lot that’s been left unsaid. Everyone has their “tell”—a unique behavior that pulls back the curtain on the hidden self. I do. You do. Two strangers might not know the tells, but friends will. Among friends, an attentive listener can spot them, and if the friend’s goal is to fix what’s broken, he can use them to steer toward repair. This might sound sneaky, but it isn’t. It’s purposeful for all the right reasons. Either way, giving someone your undivided attention is one of the most important demonstrations of respect. When a person feels heard—and maybe even that the one listening understands what’s been said and what’s hidden beneath the surface—they most often will snuff their own fuse.

The second rule is basic politeness. In any contentious conversation, if at least one participant commits to remaining within the boundaries of civility, the relationship has a far better chance at survival. I don’t just mean that while one is shouting and interrupting, the other is remaining calm. I mean that a polite person is aware of certain things. A genuinely polite person chooses his words carefully. He knows his own tendencies—the countless sin-stained responses (sometimes well-deserved) he’d prefer to give—yet he keeps those to himself. Instead, he dresses his thoughts in courtesy’s clothes. He lets polite civility be his shield against accusation. In all my years as a pastor, each filled with more than its fair share of stinging interactions, I’ve never walked away from one having regretted being polite. How could I? As the saying goes, “Civility costs nothing and buys everything.”

On second thought, as a Christian, I’m not so sure I agree entirely with the saying that civility costs nothing. Being polite requires some sacrifice.

The very definition of politeness is “behavior that is respectful and considerate of other people.” It means giving some space to another person’s immediate context. In the meantime, our 21st-century world appears pierced by the belief that crass impoliteness is the better way. Perhaps worse, we’ve become a society where it’s entirely acceptable for a person’s feelings to govern his manners. In other words, the expectation is that others must adjust their current mood or emotional condition to match yours, no matter what it might be. If you’re mad, then others had better watch out. If you’re sad, then others had better not be happy. And why is this? Because the self is what’s most important.

Looking at what I’ve typed so far, I see I mentioned being polite involves sacrifice. Therein lies a necessary clarification that must be made. Again, to be civil with others means to adjust one’s behavior. In a natural law sense, civility promotes harmony for societal stability. For Christians, it goes further. Civility is the first step toward the kind of service that identifies with someone, thereby becoming an inroad for lifting others from their troubles. Civility is willing to temporarily endure with someone to deliver them to something better (1 Corinthians 13:5-7). Civility’s opposite—rudeness—demands that others come to where it resides and stay there. It is entirely self-seeking. It insists that others rejoice in whatever it deems worthy of praise. It demands that others suffer as it has suffered, eventually multiplying its misery. It makes things worse, not better.

Thinking about these things this morning while simultaneously reflecting on Saint Paul’s words in Romans 12:6-16 (the Epistle lesson appointed for this morning), another aspect needs further clarification.

At first glance, Saint Paul appears to side with the 21st-century’s self-centered demands when he writes in Romans 12:15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Indeed, it sounds like God’s people must indulge others’ emotional frailties entirely and in every circumstance. But he isn’t. Instead, he set the standard for doing these things in verse 9, writing, “Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.” With these words in hand, the image becomes that of discernment. It’s the image of someone holding tightly to what is objectively good while reaching down into the darkness to rescue someone else. The one helping doesn’t submit himself into every darkness. And the darkness he does reach into, he doesn’t do so permanently. Paul insists in verse 21, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Evil must not be coddled nor granted the last word. Instead, identify with the person. Reach to them. As you do, rejoice if rejoicing is appropriate. Weep if weeping is necessary. Do both intending to bring a person trapped in darkness to the light above—to the good you’re holding onto.

Somewhat tangentially, perhaps this is one of the inherent angles to Paul’s encouragement to set our minds on things that are above, not on things below (Colossians 3:1-4). Could this also be meant for believers perpetually stuck in life’s ditches—to look upward for the hands that can help?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Either way, assuming that politeness produces dividends is an uncomplicated axiom. Most regular folks will not be found marveling when someone like Justice Clarence Thomas says that politeness opens doors that education cannot, or as Margaret Walker insists, that good manners can buy what money can’t afford. These things go without saying. The same is true relative to the Gospel. Its glory is dimmed by the poorly mannered and confused by the rude (1 Corinthians 13:4-5). And so, naturally, Paul reminds us, “Be gentle, and show perfect courtesy toward all people” (Titus 3:2), letting our “manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ” (Philippians 1:27).