Carefrontation: When Compassion Needs Heart AND Backbone

“Love is the will to extend oneself for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth.” — M. Scott Peck

A long-time acquaintance once shared her story and her daughter’s.

His daughter struggled with alcohol from a young age. Like many people battling addiction, she could be funny, intelligent, loving, and difficult all at the same time. When she wanted alcohol and her parents refused to buy it for her, arguments erupted. She would yell. She would accuse. She would start fights that could consume an entire evening. Sometimes even the police had to be called. The tension in the house became exhausting.

Her parents loved her deeply. They wanted peace. They wanted her to be happy. They wanted the fighting to stop. Sometimes, after hours of conflict, they gave in. The quiet that followed felt like relief. They told themselves she was going through a hard time. They hoped she would eventually outgrow it. They hoped tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow never came.

Their daughter died at age twenty-five from alcoholism.

Many years later, her parents still carry profound grief. Alongside that grief sits a painful question that visits them from time to time: "If we had it to do over again, what would we do differently?"

There are no easy answers to a question like that. Addiction is complicated. Human beings have free will. No parent can guarantee a particular outcome. Yet their story illustrates something important that psychiatrist M. Scott Peck and author Stephen Post have both taught in different ways: love is not simply about being nice. Real love seeks growth and well-being, even when doing so is uncomfortable.

Peck, in The Road Less Traveled, defined love as "the will to extend oneself for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth." Notice that growth is at the center of his definition. Not comfort. Not approval. Not avoiding conflict. Growth.

Years later, Stephen Post, a scholar of compassion and love, gave a memorable name to one expression of that kind of love: carefrontation. Carefrontation is what happens when we care too much about another person to remain silent about behavior that is harming them.

Most of us know what confrontation looks like. We have all seen people use truth as a weapon. The words may be accurate, but they come wrapped in anger, blame, ridicule, or humiliation.

"You're ruining your life."

"What is wrong with you?"

"You are a disappointment."

Such statements may contain truth, but they rarely inspire growth. More often they trigger shame, defensiveness, or withdrawal. The person feels attacked rather than helped.

Most of us also know what enabling looks like, though we often mistake it for kindness. We tell ourselves we do not want to upset someone. We do not want conflict. We do not want to hurt their feelings. We make excuses. We soften consequences. We rescue them from problems they need to face themselves. The motivation is often loving, but the results can be harmful.

Peck and Post point us toward a third way. I have come to think about it using a simple formula:

High Care + Low Truth = Enabling

Low Care + High Truth = Shaming

High Care + High Truth = Carefrontation

Carefrontation happens when compassion grows a backbone is another way to think about it.

Imagine one of those grieving parents sitting in their kitchen years ago. Their daughter demands alcohol. She becomes angry when refused. She threatens to make everyone's evening miserable. The easiest path is to give in. The harsh path is to attack her. Carefrontation invites something different.

"Daughter, I love you. I know you are hurting. I know you are angry. I am willing to listen, talk, cry, or help you find treatment. I am willing to sit with you through this struggle. But because I love you, I am not going to buy alcohol for you. I know you may be upset. I know you may not understand. But I cannot help you destroy yourself."

Notice what is happening here. The parent is not abandoning the daughter. Not shaming or dismissing her. Not calling her names or threatening to stop loving her. At the same time, the parent is refusing to participate in behavior that is causing harm. The relationship remains. The limit remains. Both truth and love remain.

That is carefrontation.

As I have reflected on the work of Peck and Post, several principles seem to emerge.

First, begin with genuine care, love, connection. The goal is not to win an argument or prove someone wrong. The goal is the well-being and growth of the other person.

Second, tell the truth clearly. Carefrontation does not hint, manipulate, or dance around the issue. It lovingly names what is happening.

Third, separate the person from the behavior. The person retains dignity even when the behavior is unacceptable. "I love you" and "this behavior is harmful" can exist in the same conversation.

Fourth, protect dignity. Shame says, "You are bad." Carefrontation says, "You are a valuable person making choices that are causing harm."

Fifth, set healthy limits. Carefrontation recognizes that love does not require participation in destructive behavior. Sometimes the most loving word is "no."

Sixth, stay connected whenever possible. The goal is not rejection. It is relationship strong enough to hold truth.

Finally, hold hope for growth. Carefrontation rests on the belief that people are more than their worst moments. Change is possible. Healing is possible. New choices are possible.

This is difficult because many of us naturally lean to one side or the other. Some of us are peacemakers who avoid conflict at all costs. We fear upsetting people. We fear rejection. We fear being seen as unkind. Others are truth tellers who have no trouble speaking their minds but sometimes leave wounded people in their wake.

Carefrontation asks something harder. It asks us to combine a soft heart with a strong spine. It asks us to remain connected while also remaining honest. It asks us to care enough to stay in the conversation and courageous enough to tell the truth.

As I think about the parents who lost their daughter, I do so with tenderness rather than judgment. They loved her. They were doing the best they knew how to do. Most of us have made similar mistakes in our own relationships. We have all remained silent when we should have spoken. We have all spoken harshly when we should have listened. We have all confused keeping the peace with helping someone grow.

The invitation is not guilt. The invitation is wisdom.

I aspired to use carefrontation in a recent situation with one of my family members. She brought up some of her behavior which she said, "I know you know about." In fact, I knew I needed to talk to her, but was searching for just the right time and place.

I nodded. "Yes." "I do know." "And here is something you need to know, dear girl. There is nothing you can ever do or say that will keep me from loving you."

She started to cry profusely. "I thought you would be ashamed of me and be mad at me."

"You know what I want for you. I want you to have a good life, to make choices that will help you lead a good life."

Then she of her own accord explained the circumstances she was faced with, the bad choices she had made, and the way she planned to change.

I didn't have to say much of anything. I only had to hold on to my love and my honest concern for her.

She did the rest of the work. Carefrontations may not always go so well. Time will tell how it works out for her and for me.

John, holds firmly to the idea that sincere love in the form of deep care and concern is the silver bullet for all of us humans. If we can find it, nurture it, hold on to it, and offer our love sincerely to others, (and I would add to ourselves) all will be well.

That sounds simplistic. And easy. Supposedly Einstein said the theory of relativity is not hard to understand, it's hard to believe. I'm not sure he said that, but it sure fits for love. And it worked in this encounter... and it was simple and easy because I really do love her.

It's not always easy for me because I don't always believe it. And I can't always find the love. But I have seen good examples which I aspire to, cling to.

People like Father Gregory Boyle, who has established Homeboy, the most successful gang and drug rehabilitation center in the world in one of the harshest places possible - Los Angeles. Boyle calls his love...cherishing. It is steeped in his faith, seeing all as beloved children of God, created in the image of God. He can hold firmly to cherishing even though he knows some of his "homies" will have ups and downs, ins and outs.

Boyle tried getting the homies jobs, removing their tattoos, offering counseling and education, which they still do. But none of that met with the success of creating a culture of deep, genuine, full-on cherishing. (And though, he may not use the terminology, as I read Boyle's books and stories, he is using carefrontation. And funnily enough, the homies use carefrontation with him. He talks to one of his homies regularly; he calls this homie his spiritual director.)

Perhaps the next time we face a struggling child, a friend trapped in addiction, a coworker whose behavior is causing his or her own harm and disrespect, or a loved one making destructive choices, we can remember carefrontation as an expression of deep care and concern, love. We do not have to choose between enabling and attacking. There is this third way.

It is the way M. Scott Peck pointed toward when he defined love as nurturing growth. It is the way Stephen Post wrote of, in his book Pure, Unlimited Love, as one of his ten expressions of love (along with celebration, compassion, forgiveness, attentive listening, helpfulness, loyalty, respect, mirth, and creativity) and named it (crediting Peck) carefrontation.

In a world that desperately needs both more heart and backbone it may be one of the most important forms of love we can learn. Let's nurture the belief in the power of sincere care and concern, cherishing.

Three or Four Things for Me (and maybe you) to Consider

Think about a difficult conversation you have been avoiding. Ask yourself whether your silence is helping the other person grow or simply helping you avoid discomfort.

Before speaking a hard truth, take a moment to steep yourself in cherishing (and maybe prayer if it helps), in care and concern, in love; and in gratitude for the person... remembering what you genuinely value about the other person. Let care and concern shape the conversation.

The next time you need to set a limit, try explaining both the care and the concern behind it. "Because I love you, I need to be honest about what I see."

Optional: try channeling Peck, Post, and Father Boyle or a religious figure (or even John) - pump up belief in the power of sincere care and concern to create growth, wisdom, and flourishing.

How might we use a little more backbone and a little more heart, carefrontation, to journey together to the Good Life?