Check Your Posture

Truth Can Move People. Our Posture Can Determine Which Way.
Back during the Covid years, I decided to finally tackle writing a book. It had been a dream of mine for a long time, and a few months of quarantine and a slower pace finally gave me the opportunity.
My goal was 40,000 words. Even on pandemic time, that was a heavy lift. But I kept my head down, dedicating a few hours a day to the next chapter or two, and finally dragged Missional Marketplace over the finish line.
I was so excited to share it with others, I picked a handful of close friends I trusted and sent them the draft for their review. Slowly but surely, I began getting encouraging feedback.
“This really spoke to me.”
“This is excellent in writing, Erik!”
“I really love the way you’ve given words to something I’ve felt for a long time.”
It’s a writer’s dream to feel like you’ve taken something that’s been slow-baking inside of you for years and finally articulated it in a way that resonates and can be shared with others.
Troubled by Chapter 12
But one morning, I woke up in a hotel room in Missouri to a WhatsApp message that gave me indigestion:
“Hey Erik, I read your manuscript and was troubled by chapter 12.”
Troubled? Troubled!?
If I told you who sent the message it would give you indigestion, too. It was a dear friend, theologian, and missiologist I had immense respect for. A personal hero of mine. And he was troubled by my manuscript! Why couldn’t he just tell me how awesome I was like everyone else?
What troubled him? Well, I’m glad you asked. It wasn’t my theology (thank God).
It was my tone.
He elaborated, “your posture is snarky and condescending. It hurts the concepts you are trying to unpack. It moves people away from you.”
My posture was repelling. And the worst part? He was right.
I don’t remember exactly how long I sat there hyperventilating at the WhatsApp message, but I do remember the instinct to defend myself. Didn’t he understand my sense of humor was nurtured by 9 seasons of Seinfeld? He grew up overseas. Maybe he just missed the sarcasm.
But he was right. The concepts in the chapter weren’t wrong, but my snarky posture created a subtle sense of self-righteousness that was getting in the way of what I was trying to say.
So I rewrote it. And you know what? Taking a more humble posture didn’t weaken the argument. It actually made it better.
Saying the Right Thing Wrong
I’ve thought about that WhatsApp message a lot over the years (in fact, if this story sounds familiar, it’s because I’ve told it before). I’ve realized this is about a lot more than writing books.
We can put a tremendous amount of effort into being right. And truth matters! Bad ideas and bad leadership have consequences. There are moments when things need to be confronted, challenged, and called out for what they are.
But it’s possible to be completely right about something and completely wrong in the way we carry it. We can speak truth with arrogance. We can confront something wrong with words dripping with condescension. We can defend something good while treating the person across from us like an enemy who needs to be defeated.
And when that happens, our posture can actually undermine everything we’re trying to accomplish.
What’s Your Posture?
Recently, a college student reached out to me about a classmate who was wrestling with a difficult situation at work. They kept watching a coworker who, from their perspective, wasn’t working hard or carrying the same load as everyone else, yet this guy kept getting accolades, opportunities, and promotions. Meanwhile, others who were working hard, putting in the hours, and doing their jobs well seemed to be getting passed over and ignored.
I got a little angry just listening to the story.
The question was what he should do about it. Talk to HR and risk the consequences? Stay quiet, work faithfully, and just keep working hard? Try to influence the culture from within?
I wish these kinds of questions had simple binary answers, but life isn’t a story problem on a math quiz. There are a hundred different variables I just don’t know. So I prayed, asked for wisdom, and leaned in:
Whatever he decided to do, what posture would he bring with him?
As a leader, when someone comes to me combative, condescending, and demanding, it moves me away from them. I put up my defenses. I feel accused, and my amygdala (that fight or flight part of my brain) kicks in full force. Whether the person means to or not, I end up on the opposite side of the table. They’re the prosecutor and I’m the defendant.
But when someone presents a problem, even an emotional or complex one, with humility and grace, I want to move toward them. Suddenly, we’re on the same side of the table. We’re fellow advocates, not sparring partners.
That doesn’t mean we ignore things that are wrong. A posture of humility isn’t a posture of passivity. Grace doesn’t demand silence. There are moments when we need to speak clearly, confront unhealthy patterns, or challenge something that is genuinely unjust.
But there is a big difference between confronting something because we want redemption and confronting something because we want vindication.
The Posture of Jesus
And this is where following Jesus has to shape more than just our private piety. Jesus was never afraid of hard truth. He confronted hypocrisy and challenged injustice. He even overturned tables! Grace didn’t make Jesus passive or timid.
But Jesus wasn’t driven by ego, insecurity, or the need to win an argument. He was described by the Apostle John as being “full of grace and truth.” Both/and. Together.
That means following Jesus isn’t just about learning what is true, it’s about allowing him to transform the posture with which we carry what is true.
Being right can give us permission to do some pretty ugly things. It can make us graceless and feed our self-righteousness. We can convince ourselves our righteous indignation is making us more like Jesus when, in reality, we are just using Jesus to justify being the version of ourselves we already wanted to be.
Back to Chapter 12
That brings me back to chapter 12. I would have much preferred another WhatsApp message telling me how brilliant my manuscript was. It would have required a smaller handful of Tums. But my friend and mentor gave me something far more valuable.
He reminded me that I could believe something deeply, articulate it accurately, and still get completely in the way of what I was trying so hard to communicate.
Truth matters. Conviction matters. Speaking up when something is wrong matters. But so does our posture.
Because sometimes the biggest obstacle to the truth we’re trying to communicate isn’t the truth. It’s us.

