McMusing: Comfortably Uninformed or Uncomfortably Informed?

Coming to terms with those who seem willfully ignorant.

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash

Ten years ago—maybe—one of my friends who had been trafficked as a child was being interviewed by a prominent Christian leader. When I say prominent, think very prominent. When my friend said that she had been trafficked by her family, his jaw dropped, he fell backwards, and said something along the lines of, “Your family? How could this happen?”

Scott and I were watching the interview together, and I looked over at him and said, “What the heck? Didn’t he do any research before the interview?” Later, I realized it went way beyond not doing one’s homework. To interview a trafficked survivor and not know that this often occurs as a result of parents selling their children...seems to be the height of ignorance.

Then I stop myself because saying someone is ignorant sounds judgmental and demeaning. Like an individual doesn’t have the brain capacity to do their homework. To my core, I believe that there are kinder ways to tell what appears to be true.

Landing in America in 2025 tests my core principle of kindness, which I have lived by for a very long time. It is an effort because I was born blunt. Anyone who knows me will agree that I say what I believe to be true without much fluff. Yet, they will also say that I am kind. There have been some missteps over my lifetime, but yes, mostly, I find a way to be kind.

Being kind has been challenging lately. For example, I fail to understand how someone can brag about harming women and still be seen as a viable candidate for president. Not that other presidents haven’t behaved egregiously, but the bragging belongs in a different category.

But I digress.

Then again, maybe I didn’t digress. Because when I brought this up over the past eight-plus years, there are people who fall back aghast as if they had never heard of the video in which the bragging occurs. Did they not do their homework? Are they not capable of doing that homework? Or is there something else going on here?

The same thing happened last week when the CNN interview with Doug Wilson went viral. So many people had never heard of his radical beliefs. (More jaw-dropping, falling-back-in-chairs episodes.) I have been listening to the stories coming from his church—and other churches that his teachings have influenced—for years. This radical version of patriarchy was discussed in the book Jesus and John Wayne, published in 2020. There are many authors who have been speaking to these concerns for years. Yet, so many are surprised.

In an article by Kristin Kobes du Mez that appeared in my inbox on Monday, there was a quote from the author of a new book (which I have not read and so I will reserve comment on the book for another day). The author explained her struggle in these words:

My biggest fear is that in trying to correct one oversimplified narrative. . . and in trying to add nuance to that story, I have gone too far the other way. Nuance is hard to nail, and I am imperfect. My shortcomings will cause some people undeserved pain, which I regret. -Holly Berkley Fletcher

I feel that deeply. It is challenging to be a truth-teller in a world where well-accepted narratives within the church allow people to feel comfortable. For instance, if the prominent Christian leader who interviewed my friend had done his homework, he would not have been shocked by familial trafficking. Since he did not appear to understand how common this is, it was jaw-droppingly uncomfortable.

My question then—since calling people ignorant is really not very kind—is this: Which is more important, being comfortably uninformed or uncomfortably informed? I agree that remaining informed of current events can cause me to be uncomfortably informed. If you are reading this, it stands to reason that you also have chosen this path. So, this post may not apply, but it might help us both to refrain from calling people ignorant.

When I bring up “sticky” topics, good, kind people sometimes say, “Oh, I really don’t follow the news very much; it is so depressing.” That is the very. definition of being comfortably uninformed. (This is different from those who would throw “Woke” at me.) Usually, these people are those who believe in social justice. It truly may be too much for them to consider. I understand this, but when something too egregious to ignore shows up on their doorstep and their jaw drops, it is not because the information wasn’t available.

This is somewhat different from those who have been isolated from the information by the circles in which they belong. For some, it is all they have ever known, and stepping outside of those narratives is almost impossible (I know this).

There was another quote from the author that alluded to this (I will eventually read the book and be back with thoughts). But the quote . . .

And to be clear, in many of those cases, they are simply too buried in that [church] world—for many, it’s all they have ever known, cradle to grave—to see its flaws. It’s too much a part of their identity. It’s the only community they have. I understand that. In addition, in my experience, the vast majority have zero concept of the historical stage across which they still stride. There is a lot of very comfortable ignorance out there that doesn’t necessarily preclude good work in the world. -Holly Berkley Fletcher

And that last sentence is when I came to the conclusion that what the author calls comfortable ignorance is often being comfortably uninformed. I have to believe that this is not always willful ignorance in which one knows the problem but is more comfortable feigning ignorance. It helps me sleep at night to not see it that way. It is also important to repeat the words “that doesn’t necessarily preclude good work in the world.” These are kind people who have truly done good and cared for others—some of them have cared well for me and Scott.

At the same time, doing good doesn’t negate the harm of remaining comfortably uninformed. Being comfortably uninformed is a spiritual and psychological bypass. People cannot be distressed about the fire down the street if they do not know the fire exists. If something isn’t happening in their house, their street, their church, their family, there is no need to be uncomfortably informed.

For years, when someone would mention something that was unmentionable—that could be a lot of things—my family would say, “Lalalalalalalah,” then laugh and move on. In other words, we would say, “I don’t really want us to talk about that uncomfortable topic.” Sadly, this is most often how I feel when I show up as a blunt truth-teller. “Lalalalalalah” works until conducting an interview, and the truth they should have known smacks them in the face.

Or when the price of eggs never comes back down, and more and more people must choose between food and medications.

Or when the lovely woman who sells tamales on the corner is disappeared, leaving her car and tamales for her family to find.

Those of us who are willing to be uncomfortably informed must keep talking. Making people uncomfortable isn’t unkind, and besides, kindness isn’t always the answer. Loving your neighbor sometimes requires us to make people—good people, caring people— uncomfortably informed.

What they choose to do from there is just that—a choice, either conscious or subconscious. An informed choice of sorts that must now ignore or disbelieve what the truth-teller has said in order to remain comfortably uninformed.

None of this changes my choice to be uncomfortably informed and my determination to continue writing McMusings. It just helps me to remain kinder in doing so.