Recovering the Lost Art of Conversation: Let's Go Back to the Round Table

140 characters. The short, pithy, and snarky comment on Facebook that shows how witty you are. The constant name-calling, and you are in this camp or that camp. This is the world that we find ourselves in, and Christians are not off the hook. Add to this political strife or general frustration that leaves decision-makers puzzled and confused, and divisive rhetoric from politicians of every stripe, and it’s downright chaotic. Finally, you couple all of this with the relative death of in-person extended conversation, and you find yourself living in 21st-century America.

If I may (hey, it’s my blog after all, so I guess it’s okay), I would like to share a coming-of-age story from my life. I grew up in a medium-sized Midwest town in Iowa (Davenport). A growing metropolis it was not, but it’s where I call home, and I’m proud of where I grew up. As I turned seven or eight, a new tradition started. Every Saturday morning, my Dad would wake up my brother and me, and we would head to a local hole-in-the-wall breakfast spot called Mary Sue’s. We would go in and eat breakfast with a regular group of men affectionately referred to as the “Round Table” (we literally ate at a round table). It was at this round table that I was introduced to what I would call “long form conversation”. The morning news was playing on a small TV in the corner, and there were no smartphones to be seen anywhere (mainly because they hadn’t come into existence yet).

This roundtable exposed me to a wide range of new thoughts on life. I grew up attending a Christian school and church, so the people I spent the most time with were Christians. Here at the round table, I was exposed to many different thoughts and ideas. Saturday conversations ranged from sports, depending on the season, to city events, politics, practical life matters, hunting, fishing, and even religion. It was in this environment that I was forced to think and argue for myself week after week. At eight, I wasn’t arguing the finer points of foreign policy and the impact on the United States, but I was learning how to defend my love of the St. Louis Cardinals in an area that was mostly Chicago Cubs fans. It was through the help of men I knew as Don the Barber (shockingly, he was a barber at a shop just down the street) and my dad’s closest hunting buddy, “Honda”.

As I grew up, I started to intern for my dad at his insurance office, and that meant the Saturday breakfasts would turn into almost daily breakfast starts with my dad. This meant even sharper conversations, and the men at that round table became increasingly different. I distinctly remember, for the first time ever, sitting at that round table with a postal carrier who was not shy about claiming to be an avowed Democrat. The conversations were great and sometimes intense, but one thing that I learned is that they were always respectful. They didn’t demean each other for having different viewpoints, and it wasn’t weird to be a Christian even if some of them weren’t. It wasn’t even frowned upon when I shared what I was learning at church or school, or when I invited some of them to something special I was doing at either place. Those men may not have believed in Christ (which was heartbreaking for a boy and now a man who loved them so dearly), but they never made me feel little or dumb for my faith.

The reason I share this story is that I’m concerned that Christians are losing the ability to have meaningful, productive conversations with those they disagree with. I think that in the society around us, we are losing the ability to have detailed, in-depth, nuanced conversations. I never knew how much I respected the Apostle Paul beyond his role as a Biblical author until I read about his engagement with skeptics and thinkers on Mars Hill in Acts 17. Paul was able to engage in dialogue with people in the city of Athens respectfully, pointing out their error and calling on them to respond by putting their faith in Christ alone for the forgiveness of their sins.

I hope that Christians can jettison the cultural moment and strike out toward engaging with the people around them in extended conversation that respects them while warning them of the dangers that come from living for themselves. I hope Christian parents will do what mine did and not shelter them from the world but find the spaces where they can navigate it together. You see, my dad was not content to merely let us hear and exchange ideas at the round table. Many times, we would get in the truck after breakfast, and he would point out the dangers of some of the things we had heard about. He also managed to do this without sounding like a professor or pastor. Looking back on it now, he was incredibly wise in doing it this way.

Christian, let’s not be afraid to run into the fray and engage with the people around us. Let’s not limit our interaction about dissenting opinions to social media, and maybe take a break to seek out ways to have more meaningful conversations in person. Maybe that means inviting someone over for dinner and having informed discussions, or inviting someone out for a cup of coffee, or maybe, just maybe, you can find your own round table for breakfast and a lively conversation.