Unnested

Most of us want the truth — but often, what we’re really chasing is comfort.
Truth demands something of us. It nudges us toward change: in our habits, our thinking, our relationships. And change, even when necessary, can feel threatening.

“Be honest with me” sometimes translates to “Tell me something that won’t shake me out of my comfort zone.”
It’s not dishonesty we fear — it’s the disruption that honesty brings.
When truth challenges our expectations, it can feel like losing control. It leaves us vulnerable to regret, even shame. Not everyone is ready for that brand of exposure.

The way truth or opinion is delivered matters.
Without tenderness, can feel like an attack.
But when spoken with compassion, honesty becomes an act of love.

That’s why the phrase “I love you, but you are stubborn.” Meaning, I am supportive even if I don’t agree, carries so much weight.
It’s love that makes room for disagreement, for truth, and for grace.

This level love is hard for humans, battling self-preservation and such.
We often lace it with a hint of superiority, or tuck in a quiet dose of resentment.
We say we’re being gracious — but let’s be honest, there’s usually a catch.
A little revenge.
A little “I’m the bigger person… and I hope you noticed.”
We serve up a warm cookie of grace — with a generous side of ego.
We pretend that we spent hours lovingly prepping homemade dough. Yet, the truth is, the Pillsbury wrapper is still peeking out of the trash can. Freshly squeezed from a tube, served with a slapped-on smile, and misrepresented as a labor of love.

We don’t always need to win.

There’s a pause — a caesura if you will — between what we feel and what we say.
Between what we believe and how we show up for others.

If you’re willing to grow, sit with this:

• Have you ever stood beside someone to the highest degree of your being, even when you didn’t agree with them?
• Do you extend that same grace when the disagreement touches your deepest convictions?
• What does stubbornness look like in your own life — and what has it already cost you?

Many of us beg for someone to speak reality.
But do we really want it?

Opposition isn’t always comforting.
Often, we are seeking reassurance. We look for validation or a mirror that reflects our own beliefs back to us.

A little “I don’t like her because you don’t like her — and you’re my best friend!” energy.
It’s not truth we’re chasing — it’s loyalty dressed up as honesty.

And yet —
“I love and support you” isn’t a contract of agreement.
It’s a covenant of presence.

It means: I’m really here.
Even when the road is rocky.
Even when the GPS says, “Recalculating.”

Loving someone through their hardest moments — especially when they’ve hurt you — isn’t weakness.
It’s strength, wrapped in grace.
It’s choosing presence over pride, even when your heart feels bruised.

The enemy would love for you to die on a hill. Normally, you’d walk around it if you weren’t so emotionally invested.
The devil makes giving up look noble and dresses up pride as conviction and calls it righteousness.
And he has no lowest limit — no line he won’t cross — to get the job done.

Sometimes, us humans confuse conviction with pride.
Thinking we’re standing firm in truth, when really, we’re just refusing to bend.
The Bible warns us about this. It is not once, but often: “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” — Proverbs 16:18

True conviction is rooted in humility and wisdom, not arrogance.
It doesn’t demand agreement.
It invites grace.

Next time you are tempted to ask for the truth from another human, pause and think deeply. Ask yourself if you seek clarity or comfort. What benefits me more, transformation — or validation?

Because “I love and support you” isn’t a contract of agreement.
It’s a covenant of presence.
It means, I’m here.
Even when the road is rocky.
Even when the GPS says, “Recalculating.”

If you trust someone enough to ask a heavy question, honor that trust by listening with your heart—not just your ears. Respect them enough to receive their truth fully. Or here’s a wild idea: maybe don’t ask at all. Resist the carnivorous urge to consume what you’re not ready to digest. Self-control is beast best caged for another day, to be continued….

What your confidant shares in reply may be unsettling at first.
Emotions are high, like standing on a mountaintop, while the consequences wait quietly in the valley below.
Wisdom often sounds like discomfort — even correction — before it ever feels like peace.
Application comes later. It will happen once the storm settles, and the viewpoint ruminates. That is when you are ready to pay the cost.

I’m just the delivery driver — don’t blame me for the package.

Your Friend, Cassie