Perspective is a tricky thing. What you see or hear is only sometimes the whole of something. There is a saying that people who are dancing are considered crazy by people who cannot hear the music. In other words, there are layers of information necessary for communication. When they don’t match up, things go sideways. Add to this that everyone transmits and receives information through filters. These filters affect perspective. Some are easier than others to discern. A person who says, with a kindly smile, “I love you” communicates something far different than another person using the exact words while rolling their eyes. But you only know this from the perspective of sight. A text or email can hide it. If it weren’t for the intuitive clues inherent to tone, a phone call could potentially conceal it, too.

In the end, when perspectives differ in ways resulting in conflict, one-on-one conversation is always best. Admittedly, when face-to-face interaction is not possible, a phone call is the next best thing. Allow me to show you how this is true.

I received an early morning email last week from Amber Roseboom, the president of Right to Life of Michigan. It pinged on my phone just as I was putting my coat on to leave for a visitation. Pausing for a moment to skim the first few lines, I could see she was somewhat unhappy with me. With that, I read the message thoroughly. I won’t go into the email’s finer details. Just know that I took my coat off, sat back down at my desk, and called her. We talked for quite some time.

To start, she was surprised that I called so quickly. Nevertheless, my immediate return call and her willingness to put aside what she may have been working on fostered a shared perspective that the other person’s concerns mattered to us.

Amber began the discussion. I listened. In short, an eNews message I wrote in October was making its rounds. In it, I expressed specific concerns for the newest advertising and online commercial campaign effort (“Life: The Other Choice”) from RTL of Michigan. Amber read the eNews message and, as she mentioned both in her note and on the phone, felt somewhat betrayed. The betrayal was two-fold.

First, she believed the message was harmful to an organization I’d proven myself so incredibly devoted to for so long. Indeed, I have been and remain devoted to RTL of Michigan. Plenty know I’ve gone to the furthest reaches in Michigan to iterate life’s message at rallies, conferences, or evening dinners, only to drive hours through the night to get home in time for my usual church and school duties the following day. I’ve done this countless times, often resulting in maximum exhaustion. But I do it because life is important to me.

Second, and perhaps more intimately, Amber was saddened that I didn’t express my concerns to her first.

For the record, I did not broach either of these first concerns directly. In context, they seemed rhetorical. My fidelity to the cause needs no defense. Beyond that, had I defended the appropriateness of a public response to a public campaign, Amber and I would’ve likely ended up in some rabbit holes that didn’t lead to what we both already knew was true: We were not opponents. We were teammates with different perspectives who, having already proven ready to preserve the comradery, were willing to explore those perspectives and adjust our thinking if necessary. So, instead of a defense, I continued listening. She continued to explain the rationale behind the campaign.

Initially, I interjected on occasion where appropriate. For example, I made a passing comment that doing anything for public consumption, whether writing or creating commercials, is risky. I didn’t take the time to explain the comment, but what I meant was that we both know the external dangers we face out there. I get my share of hate mail, as I’m sure Amber does, too.  Beyond that, what we do is risky internally, too. Sometimes, the team doesn’t agree. In this particular situation, we were experiencing the downside of the internal risk.

I also recall saying that I don’t remember half of what I write, especially when it comes to my eNews messages. I write them on the fly. Whatever comes out of my nine-volt brain is what ends up on my computer screen, most often with minimal editing. Of course, I pray before the first finger hits the keyboard, asking that my words would be faithful. That said, I actually had to search for what I wrote. I found it, took a moment to skim it, and found I remained comfortable with what I’d written. We went on from there.

Along the way, we more than cemented our collegiality. We acknowledged the importance of maintaining creedal boundaries, especially for the sake of protecting organizational identity. We discussed the cruciality of shaping the culture rather than allowing the culture to shape us. Together, we agreed that RTL of Michigan must remain immovably fixed to its North Star—life—and that no room can be given to anyone or anything that would distract from life’s heading. In tandem, we confessed a common faith in Christ, one that desires faithfulness to Him as we search for the best ways to bring the message of life into a world fostering death as a viable choice during pregnancy. That angle of discussion led us to momentary examinations of our Lord’s ways of bringing His listeners from point A to point B. It led us to consider the way Saint Paul interacted with people he met along the way of his ministry. It led us to these and more. By the time we were done, we had landed at a fundamental realization, which I had already mentioned.

We are not opponents. We are teammates with different perspectives. However, these perspectives turned out to be similar after all. They were just in a different order and being considered with varying prominence. I did my best to frame it for both of us.

Essentially, I’m an incrementalist. I’ve learned that very rarely can anyone be carried from one perspective to another without taking a whole lot of deliberate steps in between. Yes, my goal is always a touchdown. However, a touchdown is rarely available at kickoff. Most often, plays are needed to get the ball down the field. I work that way in pretty much everything I do. That said, the forward motion happens within absolutist boundaries. A football game occurs on a field and is governed by rules. The steps I’m willing to take—the things I will or will not do or say, the plays I’m willing to make during the game—are influenced by absolutist principles. Relative to these two perspectives, my October eNews focused more so on the absolutist nature of the effort—the language I believe we must use, the North Star heading, what protects the organization’s position relative to culture and objective truth—rather than the incrementalism involved in the plays themselves. I did make it plain that any play resulting in lost yardage is a foolish one. But beyond that, the absolutist position—the boundaries—was my precise perspective. If we don’t hold the line on certain things, the game is lost before it even begins. Amber was reading what I wrote from a purely incrementalist perspective, and as such, she felt that one RTL of Michigan’s worthwhile plays was being misjudged.

In the end, we realized we did not disagree on much of anything. Instead, our opposing perspectives were, as I already said, just differing measures of emphasis applied to different aspects of the work. Perhaps best of all, we understood one another better, and as a result, we rejoiced in continued fellowship. In fact, I told her I’d write something saying as much. You’re reading it right now.

Amber Roseboom and Right to Life of Michigan have my full support.

Also, I asked Amber if she’d be willing to speak at Our Savior’s upcoming event with Seth Gruber on January 30, 2025. I thought it would be an opportunity for anyone in the RTL community who may be thinking we’re opponents to see us together on stage as friends—because we are. Serving alongside one another would provide this far better perspective.

In closing, I think there’s a lesson to be learned.

W.B. Yeats once wrote, “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” In a way, he’s talking about untapped perspectives. As it relates to what I’ve shared, I think the key to sharpening perspectives is being humble enough to listen and patient enough to process what we hear in a way that doesn’t lose sight of the goal. It’s both incremental and absolutist. That said, the key to this hangs on the hook of bravery. Unless we’re daring enough to reconcile while at the same time being willing to search our own thinking for error, there’s no chance of seeing through to something better. But when we take the time to do this, blessings emerge. Perspectives can shift, relationships are strengthened, unique skills each player brings to the game come into sharper focus, and efforts toward the goal line endure.

I think that happened. I’m pretty sure Amber believes it happened, too. And so, we go forward. We know the boundaries. We see the goal line. We understand the fundamentals. With the playbook in hand, we’ve come to execute. We take the field, grab the ball, and move it relentlessly down the field as a team, no matter how the world might try to stop us.

Amber and I are in it. Are you?