Beyond Debate Toward Understanding
Engaging with beliefs that differ greatly from my own is difficult. I vividly recall my first encounters with individuals of a different faith—the debates left me frustrated, and I often replayed them in my head, searching for weaknesses to prepare for next time. Now, as a Christian in a predominantly different-faith environment, I have learned that my role is not to destroy others’ beliefs, but to engage them where they are. This approach allows me to understand their perspectives—and more often than not, I discover that they are struggling, searching, or even completely lost. I must care enough to move beyond rehearsed responses and reach the heart of the person—an approach that cultivates empathy and guides my prayers. This, of course, is the best-case scenario. Not every conversation goes well; I’ve had debates that ended in frustration and resignation. Still, that is not where I want to remain.
When approached thoughtfully, conversations across different beliefs can move past conflict and create understanding and relational depth. This is central to Peter Boghossian and James Lindsay’s message in How to Have Impossible Conversations: discussions that seem impossible can succeed when handled with skill and intentionality.[1] The authors emphasize that mastery comes with practice: “All expertise is built upon fundamentals,”[2] progressing from basic skills to advanced techniques. Rather than detailing every principle, I want to focus on the mindset the authors advocate: a partnership mindset. They write, “Most basic elements of civil discussion…come down to a single theme: making the other person…a partner, not an adversary.”[3] This requires a conscious shift in posture—setting aside the need to win and instead leaning into the desire to understand.”[4]
This perspective of partnership aligns closely with Schein and Schein’s concept of the whole-person, personized relationship—also known as a Level 2 relationship—a type of connection they argue can propel us toward something new and better. A Level 2 relationship is one in which participants find “mutual or collective interest such that information, social context, challenge, and opportunity are shared and acted upon together.”[5] They continue, “… the parties know each other well enough to have built an open, trusting, collaborative connection with each other.”[6] Shifting our goal to understanding puts this principle into practice: it replaces competition with trust and shared insight.
I have found this especially true in faith conversations. I recently sat down with a friend whose beliefs about Jesus differ significantly from my own. Because we already share a trusting relationship, I could ask genuine, probing questions, and she responded in kind—not to challenge me, but to understand. Our dialogue moved beyond rehearsed defenses; instead, we exchanged personal experiences, hopes, and concerns. We did not convert each other, but we left with deeper trust and a stronger bond. This experience reminded me that such meaningful dialogue is only possible when situational humility[7] and genuine curiosity about the whole person guide the interaction.
Boghossian and Lindsay remind us that mastering impossible conversations requires persistent effort: “keep practicing, keep talking, keep listening, and keep learning.”[8] Progress is gradual, and we will not always get it right. Yet within these challenges lies an opportunity for growth—both personal and relational. Carol Dweck’s Mindset reinforces this approach, emphasizing the value of perseverance. She writes, “The passion for stretching yourself and sticking to it…is the hallmark of the growth mindset.”[9] Dweck further observes, “The growth mindset allows people to value what they’re doing regardless of the outcome,”[10] and adds, “People with a growth mindset are also constantly monitoring what’s going on, but their internal monologue is not about judging themselves and others in this way… but they’re attuned to its implications for learning and constructive action: What can I learn from this? How can I improve? How can I help my partner do this better?”[11]Together, these insights show that both skill and mindset can be cultivated, turning difficult conversations into opportunities for growth and connection.
I do not want to minimize the real challenges and frustrations that arise from impossible conversations, nor naïvely simplify their complexity. As Jonathan Haidt explains in The Righteous Mind, “Each individual reasoner is really good at one thing: finding evidence to support the position he or she already holds, usually for intuitive reasons. We should not expect individuals to produce good, open-minded, truth-seeking reasoning, particularly when self-interest or reputational concerns are in play.”[12] Self-interest and concern for reputation can derail conversations. Focusing on the person—even allowing them to “win”—requires letting go of ego for the sake of understanding and connection. Boghossian and Lindsay write, “Sometimes we are the ideologues. Sometimes we are unwilling to learn. This is a mistake we all make. The opportunity to learn is a conversational ace in the hole that will nearly always let you have a friendly, profitable conversation, no matter the topic.”[13]
Ultimately, “impossible” conversations demand humility, patience, and a growth-oriented mindset. They are a deliberate practice—one in which persistence, empathy, and curiosity can turn even the most difficult encounters into opportunities for deeper trust and genuine understanding.
[1] Peter Boghossian and James Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations: A Very Practical Guide (New York: Hachette Books, 2019), Kindle edition, 3.
[2] Boghossian and Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations, Kindle edition, 10.
[3] Boghossian and Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations, Kindle edition, 10.
[4] Boghossian and Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations, Kindle edition, 12.
[5] Edgar H. Schein and Peter A. Schein, Humble Leadership: The Power of Relationships, Openness, and Trust (Oakland, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2018), Kindle version, 29.
[6] Schein and Schein, Humble Leadership, Kindle version, 21-22.
[7] Schein and Schein define situational humility as “a developed skill characterized by the openness to see and understand all the elements of a situation by: 1. accepting uncertainty, while remaining curious to find out what is really going on, 2. being open, intentionally and mindfully, to what others may know or observe, and 3. recognizing when unconscious biases can distort perceptions and trigger emotional responses.” (Schein and Schein, Humble Leadership, Kindle version, 8.)
[8] Boghossian and Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations, Kindle edition, 179.
[9] Carol S. Dweck, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success (New York: Random House, 2006), Kindle edition, 49.
[10] Dweck, Mindset, Kindle, 7.
[11] Dweck, Mindset, Kindle, 49.
[12] Jonathan Haidt, The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion (New York: Vintage Books, 2012), 105.
[13] Boghossian and Lindsay, How to Have Impossible Conversations, Kindle edition, 65.
About the Author
Elysse Burns
12 responses to “Beyond Debate Toward Understanding”
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Elysse,
I love how you start off this blog post “I have learned that my role is not to destroy others’ beliefs, but to engage them where they are. This approach allows me to understand their perspectives—and more often than not, I discover that they are struggling, searching, or even completely lost. I must care enough to move beyond rehearsed responses and reach the heart of the person—an approach that cultivates empathy and guides my prayers.”
This really shows your heart and your maturity. You even admit to not being where you want.
Knowing what you know now, what is one thing you might tell yourself about the importance of relationships if you could travel back in time to college age Elysse? What kind of impact would that have?
Hey Jeff,
Thank you for your kind words and thoughtful questions. If I could speak to my college-age self, I’d probably tell her to slow down, breathe, and take a chill pill. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if my drive to “win an argument” came from the urgency I absorbed in church about “winning souls to Christ.” I remember watching men in the church corner unbelievers with questions designed to trip them up—questions they knew the other person would answer “wrong.” I found it deeply unsettling, yet I also thought, “Well, I guess that’s just how it’s done.”
But what I’ve come to realize is that it often became more about proving someone wrong than truly loving them. It felt like winning a game rather than building a relationship. In hindsight, I think I would have formed much deeper, more meaningful connections in those years if I had focused on asking genuine questions, listening well, and living out truth in a way that spoke for itself. That’s a hard lesson I’ve had to learn slowly—but one I value deeply now.
Elysse, I echo Jeff’s sentiment about the way you started the blog. So good!! In your view, what practices help you discern when a conversation is worth continuing for a deeper connection, and when wisdom calls for stepping back?
Hey Glyn,
Thank you for your kind words and thoughtful question. A few years ago, I read a book by Gary Thomas called When to Walk Away. It opened my eyes in many ways. Thomas helps readers recognize toxic behaviors in others and gives permission to step away instead of staying trapped in unproductive or harmful conversations. One chapter that deeply impacted me was titled Walkaway Jesus. In it, Thomas shows how Jesus didn’t chase after people who rejected Him. Instead, He chose to invest in those who were receptive and had open hearts.
I especially love this quote: “When truth is rejected, spend your time on those who will receive it instead of begging closed-hearted people to reconsider.” He goes on, “We don’t have to argue. When a toxic person is attacking you, you don’t have to participate. Especially when you know it won’t make any difference, spend those few moments worshiping and relating to your loving heavenly Father rather than contending with a hateful assault.”
Those words have stuck with me. The more I encounter “impossible conversations,” the more I realize how often someone has no real interest in listening, learning, or even respecting my experience. In those moments, I now see the wisdom of walking away.
One memory comes to mind from my time in Mauritania. A family invited my friends and me into their tent for tea, which is a deeply hospitable gesture in their culture. But as soon as we sat down, the man began preaching his religion to us, insisting on its greatness and urging us to convert. He wasn’t unkind, but the exchange was completely one-sided. He had no desire to know us, only to persuade us. Eventually, I chose to leave—even though I knew it would likely be seen as culturally offensive. In that moment, though, I realized it wasn’t worth staying. His heart wasn’t open to dialogue; it was only set on proselytizing.
I’ve learned that walking away in moments like these isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom. Choosing to step back creates space to invest in places where love, truth, and genuine connection can truly grow.
Hi Elysse. Thank you for this, it is really rich. You mentioned “Ultimately, “impossible” conversations demand humility, patience, and a growth-oriented mindset.” Patience is a critical factor, and I can admit that I have grown in this area; however, I have also been tested in the fire to arrive at this point. At what point do you move from patience to pause/ full stop when dealing with impossible conversations?
Hey Daren,
Thanks for your question. Honestly, I’ve realized that anytime verbal assault starts, that’s my cue to stop and walk away. I didn’t always know this. My first year in North Africa, a man went off on me for not wearing a headscarf during Ramadan. He called me “disrespectful,” and instead of walking away, I snapped back with the same insults he threw at me. Needless to say, it didn’t end well. Looking back, that would have been the perfect moment to just step away.
A few years later in Mauritania, I found myself in a different situation. Some friends and I were invited into a family’s tent for tea—which is a big sign of hospitality. But as soon as we sat down, the man started preaching his religion, telling us how great it was and why we should convert. He wasn’t mean, but it was one-sided. He didn’t want to know us, only convince us. This time, I quietly excused myself and left, even though I knew it might come across as offensive in that culture. To my surprise, he actually came back later and apologized for making us uncomfortable.
The difference between those two moments taught me something. In the first, I let my temper take over and nothing good came of it. In the second, choosing to walk away kept the peace and even left room for respect. I’ve learned that walking away isn’t weakness—it can actually be the stronger choice. Sometimes stepping back has way more impact than staying and letting someone wear you down in the name of “patience.”
Hi Elysse, Your self-awareness is evident in your post. I am wondering if you have a sense of what may have been some of the key factors that nurtured your growth in it. With that aspect being present, you are better able to have those deep conversations with someone who experiences life from a different perspective.
Hey Diane,
Something I’ve come to see is that most “impossible conversations” aren’t actually urgent. For a long time, I didn’t realize that. Looking back, I think part of my drive to “win an argument” came from the urgency I absorbed in church about “winning souls to Christ.” I can still picture men cornering unbelievers with questions designed to trap them—questions they knew the other person would answer “wrong.” It unsettled me, yet I assumed, “Well, I guess that’s just how it’s done.”
But now I see how much that urgency was misplaced. It wasn’t about truly loving someone—it was about scoring points. It felt like playing a game of proving people wrong, rather than walking with them in relationship.
The lesson I’ve had to learn—slowly and sometimes painfully—is that conversations don’t need to be battles, and there’s no stopwatch running. Urgency to win often kills the chance for trust to grow. In hindsight, I think I would have built much deeper and more meaningful relationships if I had spent less time trying to “win” and more time asking genuine questions, listening without an agenda, and letting truth show itself in how I lived. That shift has been hard, but it’s one of the lessons I treasure most now.
Hi Elysse,
Thank you for your post. As I read, I found myself drawn to having impossible conversations as a way to connect with people. As time goes by in your current environment, do you see yourself being more or less open to these types of conversations? What factors make that true?
Hey Julie,
Thank you for your questions. I agree with you. I’ve come to see these “impossible questions” less as traps and more as opportunities to connect with people. The longer I’ve been in my context, the more comfortable I’ve become stepping into these conversations. What I’ve noticed is that many of the arguments people bring up are not original at all—they’re parroted and rehearsed, almost like a script. Because of that, I can usually anticipate what’s coming next. But I don’t use that predictability as ammo to tear someone down; instead, I see it as a chance to redirect the conversation toward deeper heart issues.
This approach has helped me build trust with women here and given me more confidence in myself. I used to feel embarrassed about coming from an individualistic culture, since it’s often seen as self-centered. But I’ve come to see that it also makes space for reflection and self-awareness—things that aren’t always emphasized here. The more I’ve accepted that, the more I try to help women move past the arguments they’ve been handed and consider what they actually think and feel.
Hello, Elysse, thank you for your post. In the beginning of your post, you mentioned that your role is not to ‘destroy one belief, but to mee them where they are.’ I failed in this area in so many ways. In earlier years in the ministry, i voiced myself so passionately without admitting that it never ends well. I like the way you shared this in the context of your ministry; it makes me think of how I could apply myself as a believer. Lastly, in your ending, you outlined the important qualities where you said ‘impossible conversations demand humility, patience, and a growth-oriented mindset.’ Thank you again, Elysse.
Hey Noel,
Thanks so much for your kind words—I really appreciate it!