How to “yell” at someone

It’s kind of hard to take this CNN headline seriously:

For some strange reason, my gut is telling me that if I, say, raped one of my kids, it would be worse for their development than if I, say, yelled at them.

But we do need to take verbal abuse seriously. The study was commissioned by a charity called Words Matter. And they certainly do.

We have talked about it here before: Harvard’s Donna Hicks has researched dignity. Dignity means “worth,” and to honor a person’s dignity is to treat them like they are worth something–that they count, they matter.

From a Christian perspective, this would mean to treat every human like they are made in God’s image. They don’t earn that honor–they are born with it.

So God created man in his own image,
    in the image of God he created him;
    male and female he created them.

Genesis 1:27

Hicks determined that, when we employ verbal abuse (among other violations of dignity), we are causing the pain receptors in the brain to fire off as if the body had been physically wounded. And of course the danger is that, unlike a physical wound that makes it obvious we must go to the hospital … dignity wounds go unidentified and untreated. (You can watch the podcast episode about dignity violations here.)

To recap: If you are guilty of verbal abuse, you are creating the walking wounded. Except you won’t know they are wounded. They will just be much harder to manage and lead.

“And I will show you a still more excellent way.”

Is negative feedback off the table? Of course not. We have provided a number of resources to help you have “Crucial Conversations.” Here is an excellent example I recently learned about of doing it the right way:

If you are a Protestant, you’ve probably heard of Fanny Crosby. If not, you’ve probably heard her music. The hymn writer died in 1915, 94 years old and a celebrity. Blinded at 6 years old due to medical malpractice, her disability–and the excellent schooling she received at the New York Institution for the Blind–gave her a super power. Her memory was exquisite. She could have the lyrics to 40 songs in her head before she took the time to write them down.

And she wrote thousands of them.

In her autobiography, she talks about how her classmates “spoiled” her with their praise, asking for help in composing their own poems and songs. Teachers praised her as well, and she even had her work played at a public ceremony attended by dignitaries.

But she began to read her own press clippings. She grew vain. And the superintendent of the school decided it was time to have a “crucial conversation.”

She relates that she was summoned to his office, expecting more praise and maybe a commission to write a song. Instead, he said the following.

Fanny, I am sorry you have allowed yourself to be carried away by what others have said about your verses. True, you have written a number of poems of real merit; but how far do they fall short of the standard that you might attain. Shun a flatterer, Fanny, as you would a viper; for no true friend would drive you with words of flattery. Remember that whatever talent you possess belongs wholly to God; and that you ought to give Him the credit for all that you do.

They continued. Later in the conversation, he checked on her:

“Fanny,” he asked, “have I wounded your feelings?”

It was a textbook Crucial Conversation. The man was no flatterer. He was a “true friend” willing to tell her hard truths–with love.

How to receive

One last stunning piece of the story: Fanny’s reactions, short-term and long-term.

To answer the superintendent’s question, Fanny replied, “No, sir. On the contrary, you have talked to me like a father, and I thank you very much for it.”

How do you respond to sincere, well-intended negative feedback?

With a thank you!

Years later, Crosby said, she realized his advice was “worth more than the price of rubies.”

Why? Because “a little kindly advice is better than a great deal of scolding.” She added:

For a single word, if spoken in a friendly spirit, may be sufficient to turn one from a dangerous error. In the same way a single syllable, if spoken from a hard heart, may be just enough to drive another from the true path.

Crosby went on to apply such insight not only to her beautiful hymns but to her work in New York’s rescue missions. She used a friendly spirit, not a hard heart. “A man can be won,” she said, “If he knows that somebody trusts him.”

I’m glad the superintendent understood how to deliver hard words with a caring spirit. We have that to thank for a number of songs still with us.

How are you doing in your feedback? Do you have a hard heart? Are you in danger of “yelling?”

I pray you find your friendly spirit.

For your listening pleasure, check out how many genres of music Crosby has impacted: