“Buddy, you know what would be funny? Tomorrow at your small group you should request prayer for your friends, that they could find healing from the beating they just took.” I grinned and looked in the rearview mirror.

Last week my 7th grader played his 3rd basketball game of the season. They played hard, and ultimately won by double digits. The fun thing about this game is that two of the guys on the other team are in his small group at church, which would meet the next morning.

On the way home from the game, I told him how proud I was of him and his hard work and improvement. I also invited him into a new space that he hasn’t ever experienced. Trash talk. As I looked in the mirror to see his reaction, he smiled, but also kind of groaned. He seemed uncomfortable with the idea of it. I encouraged him again on the way to church the next day. Same response. He did not ultimately do it.

Trash talk is an interesting thing for men. There are two types. The friendly razzing kind, and the cocky jerk type. Though they sound similar, one is meant to draw relationships closer, and the other is meant to build conflict. If you aren’t experienced, it can be hard to read, or enter into.

I’ve seen and endured a lot of trash talk over the last few months. Between playing fantasy football with RP guys, and my Bengals losing to Jeremy’s Chiefs last week, the text threads have been active. Grown men sending gifs and razzing each other on levels I haven’t experienced before. And there are guys like Kevin, who love to egg it on and stir it up.

As I’ve grown, I’ve learned the nuances of navigating those waters. Within these groups, I trust the other men, and have relational equity with them. They’ve earned the right to razz me. And I can pick on them in ways that ultimately bring relationship closer rather than more distant. But that hasn’t always been the case. I had to learn it somewhere, somehow.

But I’ve noticed my personal trash talking is relatively patient and measured. While Jeremy will throw stuff at the wall for fun and try to get a rise out of me, I tend to wait until the results are in before holding it over him. (That worked well for the previous 3 games, but we lost last week…) Why am I that way? I’m aware that to do otherwise involves more risk. I don’t want to risk looking foolish. Deep inside of me is such a strong need to not appear dumb or worthy of ridicule that I cannot overcome it. Instead, I need the results to speak before I can stand on them. But why is that type of vulnerability difficult to step into?

My first experiences with trash talk came in the form of bullying. When I was in 7th grade, I got repeatedly crushed with harsh words intending to intimidate and make me cower. I faced it at school, church, and in the neighborhood. I was an awkward but kind-hearted pastor’s kid with a bowl cut. An easy target. I didn’t fight back. The words weren’t coming from friends. They were fiery arrows.

It wasn’t until a few years later, when I was able to grow out of that and develop self confidence and deeper friendships, that I was able to experience and join the type of trash talk that brings men closer together. I had to witness it first. One man making fun of another, trading jabs, and both laughing about it together. It was a new love language I hadn’t yet learned to speak. Eventually that would change, to a degree. But there is still a vulnerability and risk to it. I don’t want to look dumb. I don’t want to accidentally hurt a guy.

I guess I’m still learning to navigate.

For my son, it’s ok that he didn’t trash talk the guys in his small group. He hasn’t learned the lingo yet, or built up the confidence and relational equity to feel comfortable with it. Even though he and his twin brother go at each other physically all the time now, testing strength against strength, they are kind-hearted young men and the language of trash talk still feels more harsh than loving. It still feels vulnerable. I suppose he doesn’t want to be wrong either.

What has your experience of trash talk been? How have you entered in, or shied away from it? Where are you letting your aversion to vulnerability keep you from relationship?

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Cody Buriff, Chief of Resources and Experiences