Better to Understand than to be Understood

Have you ever been in a conversation where you found yourself mentally rehearsing your rebuttal while the other person was still speaking? Perhaps it was during a family dinner when your relative expressed a political view that made your blood pressure rise, or maybe during a church meeting when someone suggested an approach to ministry that seemed completely wrongheaded. In that moment, your mind raced with counterarguments, biblical proof-texts, and examples of why they were mistaken. Yet when the conversation ended, nothing had changed—except perhaps the distance between you had grown a little wider.

We live in an age of unprecedented communication, yet genuine understanding seems more elusive than ever. Social media algorithms feed us content that confirms our existing beliefs. News outlets cater to specific ideological tribes. Even within Christianity, we sort ourselves into camps—traditional or progressive, liturgical or contemporary, "missional" Christians or defenders of orthodoxy. We have become experts at broadcasting our positions but amateurs at the ancient art of listening.

 

The Divine Priority of Understanding

The prayer attributed to St. Francis of Assisi contains a profound reversal of our natural inclinations: "Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand" (The Peace Prayer of St. Francis). This single line challenges the very foundation of how we typically approach relationships, conversations, and conflicts. Our default mode is to ensure others grasp our perspective, appreciate our struggles, and validate our experiences. But Francis, following in the footsteps of Christ, suggests that love begins not with being heard but with hearing.

It is vital to note that this view does not mean "all truth is subjective" or "relative." Instead, it recognizes that before we can speak truth into error, we must understand where people are coming from and why they think the way they do. Our goal is not merely to "force" those in error to conform, but to lead them into the fullness of the truth. It is not merely to "assert" the truth against error, but to lead people out of error and into truth.

This priority of understanding over being understood finds its ultimate expression in the Incarnation itself. As the Letter to the Hebrews tells us, "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin" (Hebrews 4:15, NRSV-CE). God did not simply speak to humanity from a distance; He entered into our experience. The Word became flesh and lived among us (John 1:14), experiencing what it meant to hunger, to weep, to suffer betrayal, to face death. Before offering salvation, God first demonstrated understanding.

Consider how Jesus interacted with those He encountered. With the Samaritan woman at the well, He didn't begin with condemnation of her lifestyle or theological corrections about proper worship. Instead, He asked for a drink of water, entering into her world and her daily routine (John 4:7). He understood her deeper thirst before offering living water. With Zacchaeus, scorned by his community as a traitorous tax collector, Jesus didn't launch into a sermon on economic justice. He invited Himself to dinner, choosing relationship and understanding over immediate correction (Luke 19:5).

 

The Theological Foundation of Understanding

St. Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologiae, argues that love requires knowledge: "Since good as perceived by the apprehensive power moves the appetite, love presupposes some apprehension of the good that is loved" (Summa Theologiae, I-II, q. 27, a. 2). We cannot truly love what we do not know, and we cannot know without first seeking to understand. This principle applies not only to our love of God but to our love of neighbor.

The Greek word for understand, syniemi, appears frequently in the New Testament and literally means "to bring together" or "to put together." Understanding is thus an act of integration, of seeing how the pieces fit together to form a whole. When we seek to understand another person, we are attempting to see how their experiences, beliefs, fears, and hopes come together to form their unique perspective. We are recognizing the complexity of the divine image within them.

Yet how often do we reduce others to caricatures? The "liberal" Christian who doesn't take Scripture seriously. The "fundamentalist" who lacks compassion. The "nominal" believer who only shows up at Christmas and Easter. These labels allow us to dismiss rather than understand, to categorize rather than encounter. But each person we meet carries within them the imago Dei—the image of God—deserving of the same patient understanding that Christ offers us.

 

The Barriers to Understanding

Why is understanding so difficult? Part of the challenge lies in what psychologists call "confirmation bias"—our tendency to interpret new information in ways that confirm our existing beliefs. But the spiritual dimensions run deeper. Pride whispers that we already possess the truth and need not listen to others. Fear suggests that understanding different perspectives might threaten our own faith. Faith recognizes that we are secure in the Holy Spirit, and finds error not a source of anger or a threat, but a wound in need of healing. Impatience demands quick judgments rather than the slow work of comprehension.

The Early Church Father John Chrysostom observed in his Homilies on Matthew: "Not to enable the tongue to run, but to bridle it, is the work of wisdom. For if you pour forth all that is in your mind, you will often pour forth what ought not to be spoken" (Homily 23 on Matthew). The discipline of understanding requires what James calls being "quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger" (James 1:19, NRSV-CE).

Consider how different our doctrinal disputes might be if we first sought to understand why others hold their positions. The Christian who emphasizes God's sovereignty might be someone who has experienced the chaos of addiction and found peace in God's absolute control. The believer who stresses human free will might have escaped from a spiritually abusive situation where God's sovereignty was weaponized to justify oppression. Both are responding to genuine experiences of God's work in their lives.

Or, perhaps, it's just because they were "raised" with certain presuppositions they never thought to question. They might be a little bull-headed about it, but that doesn't mean we should respond in kind. Asking questions, seeking to understand, can be disarming and opens up the opportunity for genuine dialogue.

Understanding doesn't require agreeing, but it does require recognizing the authentic spiritual journey of another. Only when we understand why someone has affirmed the position they hold are we properly equipped to correct their error, if they are indeed in error. Consider how often Catholics have been "told" that they believe things they do not—such as the claim that they worship Mary and the Saints, or that they believe in salvation by works. Protestants, in turn, are often misunderstood when they are lumped together into a single category. It is a mistake to assume that what one person says about Sola Scriptura or Sola Fide is universally held across all denominations. There is a vast diversity in their theologies, and each interaction with an individual requires a greater effort to understand exactly what they believe and why.

This is the exact kind of error that arises from assuming what someone holds without first attempting to understand them.

 

Understanding as Spiritual Discipline

The Desert Fathers and Mothers of the early church developed a practice called "guarding the heart," which included careful attention to one's thoughts and motivations. Part of this discipline involved what they called "discernment of spirits"—the ability to perceive the deeper movements within oneself and others. Abba Poemen taught, "Teach your mouth to say that which is in your heart" (The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, Poemen 63). But we might add: First, teach your heart to perceive what is in the heart of another.

This kind of understanding requires what Simone Weil called "attention"—a quality she described as "the rarest and purest form of generosity" (Letter to Joë Bousquet, April 13, 1942). In her essay "Reflections on the Right Use of School Studies with a View to the Love of God," she writes: "The capacity to give one's attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing; it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle." This attention is not merely intellectual but involves the whole person—mind, heart, and spirit—in the act of receiving another person in love.

Jesus Himself modeled this attentive understanding. When He encountered the rich young ruler, Mark tells us that "Jesus, looking at him, loved him" (Mark 10:21, NRSV-CE). The Greek word for "looking" here is emblepsas, which implies a deep, penetrating gaze—not a casual glance but a profound seeing. Before challenging the young man to sell his possessions, Jesus first understood him, and from that understanding flowed love.

 

The Fruit of Understanding

When we prioritize understanding over being understood, remarkable transformations occur. Defensiveness gives way to curiosity. Judgment transforms into compassion. What seemed like irreconcilable differences often reveal themselves as different facets of the same truth, viewed from different vantage points. Though (of course) we should not "leap" to such a conclusion! There may still be a genuine essential disagreement. But if there is genuine disagreement, at least we know where the disagreement actually lies. It prevents us from tearing down "straw man" versions of each other, both of us thinking we're justified in a "righteous crusade" for the truth.

How do we exercise charity without knowing the convictions, wounds, and hopes of our brothers and sisters?

Understanding guards us against the subtle pride of theological or spiritual superiority. When we truly understand another's journey—the struggles they've faced, the encounters with God that have shaped them, the presuppositions they grew up believing or came to believe in a church where they'd encountered some measure of the truth, the questions that keep them awake at night—we often discover that their faith, though different in expression, may be deeper than our own. They are not conscious defenders of heresy, but truth-seekers, motivated by a love of God. They might still be "wrong," but that doesn't mean their hearts are in the wrong place. The apostle Paul warns, "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up" (1 Corinthians 8:1, NRSV-CE). Understanding, rooted in love, builds bridges where mere knowledge in isolation from love erects walls.

 

Practical Steps Toward Understanding

How then shall we cultivate this discipline of understanding in our daily lives?

First, practice the pause. When someone expresses a view that triggers your disagreement, resist the immediate urge to respond. Take a breath. Offer a quick prayer: "Lord, help me to understand." This simple pause can create space for the Holy Spirit to work, transforming reaction into response.

Second, ask questions rooted in genuine curiosity. Instead of "How can you believe that?" try "Can you help me understand what led you to that conclusion?" Instead of "That's not biblical," try "What scriptures have shaped your thinking on this?" One of my professors once suggested that the answer to almost every Christian question is another question: "Why do you want to know?" The goal is not to set traps but to truly comprehend.

Third, reflect back what you've heard. "If I understand correctly, you're saying..." This practice ensures that you've actually understood rather than projected your assumptions onto another's words.

Fourth, look for the legitimate concern behind positions you find problematic. Even views we ultimately reject often arise from genuine spiritual concerns. The person worried about "cheap grace" may have seen lives destroyed by license. The person emphasizing radical inclusion may have witnessed the devastating effects of religious rejection. Understanding these concerns doesn't require adopting their conclusions, but it does require honoring their experiences. They might still be wrong about certain things, even fundamental and essential truths, but until we understand the "foundation" for their error, we're in no position to address it. To put it another way: until we know where the wound is located, we're in no position to apply the salve.

Fifth, regularly expose yourself to Christian voices outside your tradition. Read the mystics if you're a rationalist, the scholastics if you're a charismatic, the liberation theologians if you're conservative, the church fathers if you're progressive. Not to abandon your convictions, but to properly value the unity of the Body of Christ, sanctified in truth (John 17). You might even find some truth (even if not the fullness of truth) that you can learn, even if it comes from an unlikely source.

 

The Ultimate Understanding

In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known" (1 Corinthians 13:12). Our understanding in this life will always be partial, always limited. But the promise of being "fully known" by God reminds us that we are first and foremost the recipients of divine understanding.

God knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust (Psalm 103:14). He understands our weaknesses, our doubts, our struggles, our failures—and yet He loves us. This divine understanding becomes the model and the motivation for our own efforts to understand others. We seek to understand because we have been understood. We listen because we have been heard. We extend grace because grace has been extended to us.

As we navigate the complexities of Christian community, doctrinal differences, and interpersonal conflicts, may we remember that understanding is not a mere communication technique but a spiritual discipline, a form of love, a way of honoring the image of God in another. May we resist the cultural pressure to be heard at all costs and instead embrace the countercultural call to hear. For in understanding others, we not only build bridges of unity within the Body of Christ—we participate in the very heart of God, who understood us so completely that He became one of us, entering into our story so that we might enter into His.

Grant, indeed, that we may not so much seek to be understood as to understand. For it is in understanding that we love, and in loving that we fulfill the law of Christ.