NICE LITTLE BOYS AND BRAVE LITTLE BASTARDS.
July 2012
In Sunday school I was taught to love others by doing nice things.
Which is good, I guess, but…
I really wish someone would have taught me how to let myself be loved instead.
Because letting yourself be loved is a hell of a lot harder than doing nice things for people. I’ve found a faith based on doing nice things for people doesn’t amount to much more than self-righteousness masquerading as compassionate activism.
It’s not that I don’t want to do nice things for people so much as it puts me in an awkward position of thinking my role in life is to remove resistance, obstacles, and pain from the lives of others. As if I bear the responsibility for setting right all the wrongs in the world, serving as some sort of agent for a divine accountant.
I’m not saying we should stand back and watch people harm themselves or others. I’m talking about the difference between a time to intervene and a time to sit quietly with them amidst their struggles and pain.
I’m not sure what the ratio of intervention to quietly sitting is meant to be, but if I’m honest, mine skews kicking and screaming away from the sitting quietly.
What if our lives are perfectly designed to fail?
When we celebrate our successes, we often stand alone on mountaintops. But when we’re met face to face with our failures, imperfections, and limitations, we start to see how not alone—and how much like everybody else—we really are.
I want to be known as more than a nice little boy. I want to be known as a brave little bastard who dares to live like he is loved by God.
Because letting yourself be loved is a hell of a lot harder than doing nice things for people.