A Hierarchy of Concerns

A recent discussion on social media got me thinking about the way we identify and respond to problems. The particular conversation had to do with the use of therapeutic language in marriage. Words like gaslighting, narcissism, trauma, and emotional abuse have become common ways of describing relational difficulties. The original post warned about the way this vocabulary can be misused, especially in the ways wives speak about their husbands.

Predictably, there was pushback. Some thought the warning was needed because therapeutic language can be weaponized. Ordinary sins, weaknesses, and relational difficulties can be pathologized, and words can carry conclusions about a person before the facts have been carefully considered. In some circles, the simple use of this vocabulary is met with affirmation rather than careful discernment. Others were concerned that criticizing this vocabulary gives husbands an easy way to dismiss legitimate complaints. A woman may not have the best word to describe her experience, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t experiencing real deception, manipulation, neglect, or mistreatment.

There’s truth in both concerns. But what interested me about the discussion was not simply the disagreement. It’s where people instinctively located the danger.

There’s a lot of disagreement in society about what the most pressing problems are, and people tend to respond on the basis of where they believe the most significant danger lies. Those assessments shape what we notice, what we emphasize, what we warn against, and, inevitably, what we are more prone to minimize.

The church isn’t immune to this. Some Christians see Feminism and Egalitarianism as among the most serious threats of the moment. Others are far more concerned about young men being influenced by distorted forms of Patriarchy. It’s possible to believe that both are errors while also believing that they don’t represent equally pressing dangers. Personally, I think Feminism is presently the much greater threat to the church. That doesn’t require me to deny the reality of a distorted patriarchalism or pretend it can’t do serious harm. It simply means the two occupy different places in my hierarchy of concerns.

That hierarchy becomes especially noticeable in what we think needs to be qualified. In the discussion about therapeutic language, several people were concerned that, at some point, it needed to be acknowledged that men really do mistreat women and that husbands sometimes use objections to vocabulary as a way of dismissing legitimate complaints. Fair enough.

But I found myself wondering whether the qualification would run as naturally in the opposite direction. Suppose the original post had been directed toward husbands and said, “When your wife uses words like these, don’t dismiss her. She may be trying to express something real that she hasn’t found words to describe.” How many people who objected to the original post would have immediately added, “Yes, but we also need to be careful that women aren’t weaponizing this vocabulary against their husbands”? Maybe some would. I suspect not many. And it’s likely true on the other side too.

That doesn’t prove which concern should receive greater attention. But it does say something about where we locate the greater danger. The things we believe are most pressing are usually the things we are quickest to defend against, and the things we think others need to qualify their statements about.

At this point, the answer is often to be “balanced.” I’m not sure that’s the best word.

Balance can give the impression that wisdom is found somewhere in the middle. But sometimes the middle isn’t where truth is found. Two things can both be wrong without being equally wrong, and two dangers can both be real without being equally widespread. Acknowledging both doesn’t require pretending they deserve the same amount of attention.

In my mind, the goal isn’t so much balance as it is proportion.

Biblically, wisdom involves the application of truth to a particular situation. That means wisdom has to do more than identify truth in the abstract. It has to understand circumstances, make distinctions, and apply it where and how it’s needed. Solomon said: “To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecc. 3:1). Part of wisdom is knowing what time it is and what the time requires.

That also means our assessment of dangers can legitimately differ according to our circumstances. A pastor dealing with a repeatedly domineering husband may have good reason to give attention to the abuse of male authority. Another pastor may be watching marriages harmed by therapeutic assumptions encouraging suspicion, assigning motives, and turning every relational failure into a diagnosis. A congregation struggling with Egalitarianism needs something different than one being influenced by an unbiblical distortion of Patriarchy.

The mistake is to assume that what is most immediately in front of us must therefore be the universal problem, and expect everyone else to respond with the same urgency.

Social media makes that mistake very easy. At one time our immediate surroundings placed limits on our perception. We were tied to what was right in front of us. Now, social media gives an endless supply of examples confirming whatever concern already sits near the top of our own hierarchy. The algorithm is remarkably good at feeding our existing perspective.

If you believe young men are being swayed in a certain direction, you can find example after example. The same is true if you’re convinced Egalitarianism has taken hold of every institution, or that therapeutic culture is distorting Christian marriages. And if your concern is abusive and domineering husbands, social media will give you no shortage of stories. The result is that whatever problem is most visible in our corner of the internet can begin to look like a universal problem because we can gather hundreds and thousands of examples of almost anything.

This is one of the reasons Christians need wisdom in how we engage these conversations. Wisdom doesn’t require us to abandon strong judgments about the needs of the moment. There are times when one problem is more serious and destructive than another. But wisdom should make us aware that our own hierarchy of concerns might also create blind spots. The fact that one danger deserves greater attention doesn’t make the other unreal.

That’s where I think the language of proportion is more useful than balance. Proportion doesn’t require giving every concern equal space. It doesn’t require every article or post to carry all the necessary qualifications, or every sermon to address the sins on the other side. But it does require us to see things according to their actual size and significance rather than according to whatever our social media feed, personal experience, or preferred controversy has put in front of our eyes.

The Apostolic letters themselves give us a model for proportionality. Paul doesn’t write the same letter to every church. Corinth has its disorders, Galatia its doctrinal crisis, Thessalonica its questions, and Colossae its errors. Paul’s concern in one place isn’t necessarily the most pressing concern in another. That’s pastoral wisdom in applying the whole counsel of God according to the actual needs of a particular people and place. At the same time, some concerns recur again and again because some dangers really are more universal. The Apostles knew how to distinguish between what was pressing here, what was pressing there, and what was pressing everywhere.

We need to follow that example. There are husbands who mistreat their wives. There are wives who weaponize therapeutic categories against their husbands. Egalitarianism is real, and so are distortions of Patriarchy. Christians should be able to identify all of those things without pretending that every problem exists everywhere in the same measure, or that every Christian should feel the same urgency about each one.

That requires humility. Our circumstances, experiences, and even our gifts shape what we are quickest to notice. They may also influence what we’re slowest to see. That’s not necessarily a defect. It’s one of the reasons God hasn’t made the church out of people who all think, see, and respond in the exact same way. We’re many members, one body. And we need the perspective of other members precisely because we’re not identical.

The goal isn’t to stand safely in the middle. It’s to see each danger for what it is, give it the weight it deserves, and remain humble enough to let other members of Christ’s body help you see what your own hierarchy of concerns may cause you to miss.