Proverbs 27:17 – A Better Sense of What We Show the World
As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend. Proverbs 27:17
"What is the object of writing to friends," considers CS Lewis in a letter to Arthur Greeves with logic that might be extended to social media, "except that of talking oneself into a state of self-importance and the belief that one's own perversities are a matter of universal sympathy?"
Lewis's confession of the frequently self-centered purposes of our expression is what makes a recent experience of mine special. A friend sat with me in the same space. We talked about a purpose of writing bigger than generating sympathy for one's own perversities. We not only plug into a better motivation's in general, we went over some of my writing in particular, and I got to see the in-person impact of how certain phrases land. By his grace and patience, I got to, in the odd but apt phrasing of Proverbs 27:17, sharpen my countenance.
By the expression on my friend's face as he and I got down to thoroughly examining each phrase, I got to see the unforgettable example of delight in the rewrite. What might have come across coldly as a critical comment on a blog instead was delivered in person by someone whose helpful intentions I could not doubt. With a back-and-forth we didn't have to wait on by email exchange and try to fill in with half understandings, and with a store of goodwill built up by habitual readership on his part, we were able to refine expression and have fun doing it.
Each small step made the writing a little better and deepened the friendship. What I showed the world could be more on purpose and on topic because of what God was giving me in a moment of real friendship. In writing, I could focus on what I could communicate, how I could edify, because I wasn't looking for enough sips of approval from thousands of social media acquaintances to make up for what I didn't have in person.
From a person who had taken the time day in and day out to read what I had to say and was actually prioritizing being in my presence, it was easier to hear that I needed to say more by saying less. We both knew that God's Word warns that in many words sin is not lacking. Now I could consider the counsel from a friend as something other than a means to placate me and get to the end of reading what I had to say more quickly. He wanted God's glory expressed, and he wanted me to be the most effective means of doing so. In person, I could see the enthusiasm when he said that I really communicated effectively in one phrase and that, perhaps, the next one distracted from it.
My friend went through the reader's process out loud, and this was helpful. He kept asking himself and me, does this sentence connect to the next sentence? Does this paragraph connect to the next paragraph? In my fits and starts of inspiration, my perhaps over-fondness for analogy and for finding several appropriate quotes then followed by a fixation on using them all, I can forget that readers proceed in a linear fashion while battling other distractions. I can view transitional words and explanations not as reluctant condescension but as loving assistance for people whose good I want to see.
My countenance is a little sharper, then, because the soul behind it grew a little in an afternoon. I can consider the expression I show the world. I can scan for egotistical pitfalls. I can look for words which serve and edify because God used a friend to do the same for me.
"What is the object of writing to friends," considers CS Lewis in a letter to Arthur Greeves with logic that might be extended to social media, "except that of talking oneself into a state of self-importance and the belief that one's own perversities are a matter of universal sympathy?"
Lewis's confession of the frequently self-centered purposes of our expression is what makes a recent experience of mine special. A friend sat with me in the same space. We talked about a purpose of writing bigger than generating sympathy for one's own perversities. We not only plug into a better motivation's in general, we went over some of my writing in particular, and I got to see the in-person impact of how certain phrases land. By his grace and patience, I got to, in the odd but apt phrasing of Proverbs 27:17, sharpen my countenance.
By the expression on my friend's face as he and I got down to thoroughly examining each phrase, I got to see the unforgettable example of delight in the rewrite. What might have come across coldly as a critical comment on a blog instead was delivered in person by someone whose helpful intentions I could not doubt. With a back-and-forth we didn't have to wait on by email exchange and try to fill in with half understandings, and with a store of goodwill built up by habitual readership on his part, we were able to refine expression and have fun doing it.
Each small step made the writing a little better and deepened the friendship. What I showed the world could be more on purpose and on topic because of what God was giving me in a moment of real friendship. In writing, I could focus on what I could communicate, how I could edify, because I wasn't looking for enough sips of approval from thousands of social media acquaintances to make up for what I didn't have in person.
From a person who had taken the time day in and day out to read what I had to say and was actually prioritizing being in my presence, it was easier to hear that I needed to say more by saying less. We both knew that God's Word warns that in many words sin is not lacking. Now I could consider the counsel from a friend as something other than a means to placate me and get to the end of reading what I had to say more quickly. He wanted God's glory expressed, and he wanted me to be the most effective means of doing so. In person, I could see the enthusiasm when he said that I really communicated effectively in one phrase and that, perhaps, the next one distracted from it.
My friend went through the reader's process out loud, and this was helpful. He kept asking himself and me, does this sentence connect to the next sentence? Does this paragraph connect to the next paragraph? In my fits and starts of inspiration, my perhaps over-fondness for analogy and for finding several appropriate quotes then followed by a fixation on using them all, I can forget that readers proceed in a linear fashion while battling other distractions. I can view transitional words and explanations not as reluctant condescension but as loving assistance for people whose good I want to see.
My countenance is a little sharper, then, because the soul behind it grew a little in an afternoon. I can consider the expression I show the world. I can scan for egotistical pitfalls. I can look for words which serve and edify because God used a friend to do the same for me.
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