Ain’t That A VHIT
By Von C. Howard
One of the greatest gifts that comes with getting older isn’t simply gaining more years, it’s gaining more perspective.
At 47 years old, I’ve come to realize that some of the hardest conversations I’ve ever had with family, friends, coworkers, fraternity brothers, and even people I deeply respect weren’t rooted in what actually happened. They were rooted in what each of us believed had happened.
There’s a difference.
As I’ve continued to grow in my faith, I’ve become fascinated by two theological concepts that, quite honestly, have transformed the way I attempt to approach everyday relationships: exegesis and eisegesis.
Exegesis is the careful process of drawing the intended meaning out of Scripture. It requires humility, patience, historical context, and a sincere desire to understand what God is saying before deciding what we want Him to say.
Eisegesis is just the opposite. It’s when we read our own opinions, emotions, experiences, hurts, and biases into the text until it begins to reflect our perspective instead of God’s truth.
The more I continue to learn about these principles, the more I realize something that stops me in my tracks.
We don’t just practice exegesis and eisegesis when reading the Bible.
We practice them every day when reading people.
I’ve been guilty of it more times than I’d like to admit.
Someone responds with a short text message, and I assume they’re upset.
A friend doesn’t return a phone call, and I begin wondering if something is wrong between us.
A coworker challenges an idea, and it’s tempting to interpret it as a challenge to my leadership or intelligence rather than an opportunity to strengthen the work.
A loved one seems distant, and before long, I’ve created an entire story without asking a single question.
The reality is that raw truth and personal interpretation are often two completely different things.
One is based on facts.
The other is based on the meaning we’ve assigned to those facts.
I’m learning this lesson through public service, through ministry, through leadership, through family life, and through brotherhood. Whether serving my community, working alongside colleagues, leading organizations, or simply sitting around a dinner table with family, I’m continually discovering that relationships rarely unravel because people stop caring. More often, they unravel because people stop communicating.
Instead of seeking understanding, we start collecting evidence to support the conclusion we’ve already reached.
As a Black man, I also understand why many of us have learned to read between the lines.
Life has taught us to notice tone, body language, facial expressions, pauses, and subtle shifts in people’s demeanor. Sometimes those instincts have protected us. Sometimes they’ve helped us navigate environments where everything wasn’t always said openly.
But experience has also taught me that discernment and assumption are not the same thing.
Discernment is guided by wisdom.
Assumption is driven by certainty without confirmation.
One invites conversation.
The other quietly closes the door before the conversation ever begins.
If I’m honest, some of the greatest misunderstandings in my own life didn’t happen because someone intentionally hurt me. They happened because I filled in the blanks with my own experiences.
That’s human nature.
A difficult conversation at work reminds us of a supervisor who never appreciated us.
A disagreement with a family member awakens wounds that have existed for decades.
A friend’s silence sounds like rejection because someone else once walked away without explanation.
Our feelings are genuine.
But our interpretation may still be incomplete.
One practice I am intentionally trying to adopt is asking a simple question before arriving at a complicated conclusion:
“Help me understand what you meant.”
I’m learning that those six words have the power to restore trust, prevent unnecessary conflict, and strengthen relationships that assumptions would have otherwise destroyed.
Imagine how different our homes would be if husbands and wives sought clarity before criticism.
Imagine how much healthier our friendships would become if we gave people the opportunity to explain themselves before we judged their intentions.
Imagine how much stronger our churches, workplaces, civic organizations, fraternities, sororities, and communities could be if we pursued understanding with the same passion that we pursue being right.
I’ve come to believe that one of the greatest signs of maturity isn’t always having the right answer.
It’s having enough humility to admit that we may have asked the wrong question.
Before you walk away from a relationship, before you allow silence to become resentment, before you convince yourself that someone intended to offend you, pause.
Ask yourself:
Am I responding to what actually happened or am I responding to the story I’ve written about what happened?
Because there is a profound difference between truth and interpretation.
Truth reveals what is.
Interpretation reveals how we see it.
Wisdom is having enough humility to know they are not always the same.
As I continue this journey of faith, leadership, and life, one lesson becomes clearer every day: relationships flourish when we seek understanding before judgment. The next time you’re tempted to assume someone’s intentions, choose curiosity instead. Ask the question. Listen with an open heart. Extend the grace you hope someone would extend to you.
You may discover that what looked like conflict was simply a conversation waiting to happen.