Sometimes, though, inflammatory and imprecise is the way to go—if we tell our dialogue partner what we’re doing.

Take conversations around loaded issues. Early in our marriage, like many newlyweds, my wife and I had a wealth of issues to talk through, from division of household chores to the future course of our life together. Some of these issues carried serious emotional weight, and it was nearly impossible to broach them without sparks flying. Ever try to parse your words with precision when the top of your head is about to blow off?

Before we could make any progress in the conversation, then, we had to relieve some of that emotional pressure. But we didn’t want to do it in a way that would hurt the other person.

So we learned to bracket our conversations with verbal cues. When one of us said, “OK, I’m going to vent,” the other knew that what followed would be emotional, possibly painful, and probably imprecise. It could well exaggerate or misrepresent the reality of the situation. But because the “venter” gave this advance notice, the “ventee” could hear the words that followed in the proper context—the context the venter specified—and thus not react emotionally. Often, the vent would calm us down, and we could focus on our language enough to work through the intricacies of the issue.

We also do this bracketing when precise language escapes us. As she describes the details of a real-life situation—especially if they involve numbers—my wife will say, “I’m making these details up.” Again, that verbal cue enables me to hear what she says next in the context she’s established, so I get her essential meaning. If precise details become important, we can fill them in later.

Why does this matter? Why not parse out our language no matter what? Perhaps that would work if we were just word automatons. But, being human, we’re far messier than that. The passion we feel on certain issues is inherent to who we are: the issues probably wouldn’t be issues if we weren’t passionate about them! Giving voice to these emotions not only calms us but also conveys the depth of our convictions. And when we’re honestly groping for specific words—something that happens with greater frequency as we get older—why let it disrupt an otherwise fruitful dialogue?

The key, again, is to tell our dialogue partners what we’re doing. These verbal cues enable us to telegraph how we’re communicating in any specific stage of the dialogue. They help our partners better understand our meaning. Therefore, they contribute to a richer, more productive dialogue.

The idea sounds wonderfully civil. By agreeing to disagree, we pledge to respect each other’s opinions and move on. We restore harmony and concord.

Or do we?

All too often, agreeing to disagree turns into a tacit agreement never to speak of the issue again. But that creates problems on two fronts: it disrupts relationships and impedes action.

Take the relationship part. When we declare a certain issue off limits, we’re holding back a part of ourselves from the other person. That diminishes the relationship by definition. Moreover, people grow over time; their values and beliefs evolve. If we cut ourselves off from certain aspects of them, how can we share in that growth, especially if it involves the aspects on which we agreed to disagree?

Then there’s the action part. To work together on a specific issue, we have to hold certain beliefs about it in common. Often, when we agree to disagree, we haven’t established enough common ground to take action.

So is agreeing to disagree always bad? Not at all. The key is to use the idea in a way that actually promotes dialogue.

Try this on for size. What if, by “agreeing to disagree,” we agree to continue dialogue in general, to keep sharing our lives with each other, while being sensitive to the disagreement and how it affects the other’s thinking? In this way, we don’t wall off a part of ourselves from the other; quite the contrary, we agree to be gentle with the other’s hot buttons—and to trust the other’s gentleness with us as well. Rather than relationship-disrupting, this is relationship-building.

We can even take agreeing to disagree one step further—by supporting one another within our differing viewpoints. A close friend and I share similar spiritual temperaments but hold radically different theological views. We spent the better part of two years debating these disagreements by email. Sometimes, though, he just wanted my opinion of his latest sermon; rather than rant about the hot-button items in his message (which he knew I disagreed with), I tried to react within his theological framework in a way that helped him. This allowed us to support each other’s spiritual growth even as we disagree.

So yes, by all means, let’s agree to disagree—if that means we agree to hold our differences lightly, support each other, and continue the dialogue.