A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1
Sitting across from him at lunch, it wasn't hard to believe this guy could scare quarterbacks. In fact, even as a retired professional football player, I was pretty sure he could make me beg for my mommy if he wanted to get tough. Fortunately, he was in his teddy bear stage with me that day.
"I used to be mean," he said, a statement I had absolutely no trouble believing as I nervously watched him pull apart a chicken on his plate. "Before I was a Christian, that is," he said with a smile, and then added coyly, "well, maybe even after I was one. I'd find a rookie on the other side, or maybe a guy who was getting bad headlines, and I'd rattle him with trash talk and stuff. Not just needling, either. Words can be really mean, you know." His voice trailed off a bit as he said that last sentence, the first evidence I'd seen that perhaps he regretted some of what he'd said back then. "You know what? It worked. I found out I could get in people's heads fast by just being mean. So I did it. Man, do I wish I could take back some of those things now."
He was mean, he said, because it knocked opponents off their game, especially if they lost their temper. Often times, they would retaliate in ways that drew penalties, but his favorite response was "overreaction. A guy would get steamed and he'd charge at me full tilt and I could step aside and use his own anger against him, running him into the ground 'cause he'd lost control. Nobody's good when they're out of control."
I know what he means.
Not a day goes by anymore that someone out there somewhere isn't taking cheap shots at Christians. Plus, rarely a day goes by when someone's also not taking cheap shots at men. In a world that's grown painfully sensitive to politically correct rhetoric, the two targets still acceptable for public skewering are right-wing Christians and males. If you believe the written word, we're essentially to blame for most of what's wrong with the world. If you happen to be a Christian male, you can bet the farm that somewhere in the newspapers, talk shows or television will be a comment that throws us off our game.
People have discovered being mean is the fastest way to get us to do stupid things. I know that's true, because I frequently ask God if I'm the "king of doing stupid things." His silence on the matter has me thinking He agrees.
When I'm off my game in any part of my life, I often go back to the Gospel narratives (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John for you seekers and visitors out there). What did Jesus tell us to do when people were mean? Was Jesus ever mean back? Was he ever "mean first", since in the business world we're taught that "the best defense is a good offense."
The answer might surprise you. (Even though I know I'm about to get in trouble with some of you because this will seem disrespectful.) Sometimes Jesus was mean. (Or at least it must have seemed that way to the Apostle Peter when He said "Get thee behind me Satan.")
The difference between Jesus and me is when Jesus was "mean" it had a redemptive purpose. Plus, He was only "mean" to insiders, people of the Law who should have known better. For "the lost", whom He described as those without a link to the Father, Jesus was always, always, always, gracious, even when they were mean first. Especially when they were mean first! It's what makes Him different from all the other prophets, soothsayers and gods we humans have created so we could be in charge of god instead of God being in charge of us.
That's the example I'm called to follow. That's the way to react when Aaron Sorkin's brilliantly-written television shows throw sucker punches at the faithful; when left-wing bloggers spew venom hoping to harvest new mean responses from a bewildered and angry Christian reader; when Sam Harris writes a new book that calls our faith evil. It's also the example I'm called to follow when I'm tempted to fire shots across their bows that are mean first. No matter how bad somebody else may decide to be, God always makes it clear He's not happy when I'm mean; first, last, ever.
He didn't forgive my many failures so I could embarrass Him by adding meanness to the equation, even in defense of Him or His children.
It's yet another way to stand out for Jesus in a world that's hungry for Jesus to stand out.
Several years ago, I slipped into a luncheon late to receive an award from the Governor's Commission on Women for building a child care center for our workers. Nearly 400 women in the room-and me-hanging in the back of the room hoping no one would notice I'd been late. A prominent female columnist from a big-city newspaper got up and spent about twenty minutes telling absolutely hilarious-and utterly demeaning-stories about the men she encountered in the workplace. I was ripped, and the fact she was so funny and I couldn't stop laughing only made me angrier. As the luncheon continued, I began to edit my acceptance speech, filling it with pithy rejoinders to the sexist diatribe I'd just endured.
When they called my name, I made my way from the back of the room to the podium as the women who were previously unaware a man was in their midst began to realize what had just occurred. I relished the chance to put someone in their place, and I had a world of funny one-liners certain to match my adversary. As I hit the platform, I missed the first step and nearly fell on my face. Now I was embarrassed and mad, a dangerous combination when I'm trying not to be the "king of being stupid." When I looked up from my stumble, the first face I saw was the columnist, with an expression of regret and what I probably errantly thought was fear written all over it.
Then something happened I can't explain outside of God. All the anger disappeared. I looked out at the crowd, thanked them for the recognition, and sat back down. I can promise you no one in the room was more surprised than me.
And no one was more pleased than the Father.
Most of us will never know what real persecution feels like, but many of us know what it feels like to be the butt of jokes or to experience the disrespectful treatment of the things we hold most dear. How we behave in those moments says more about God than almost anything else we do.
May the Holy Spirit interrupt us every time we want to be mean, and may the world see Him more clearly because of it.
--Randy Kilgore
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