Bushwhacked
What began as a friendly game of capture the flag amongst the neighborhood kids quickly turned a new direction as the older children took control. The majority of them had played together in the same backyard for years, coming home to toss their bags in the house and run to the sanctuary of play. Aside from the occasional argument over whose turn it was next, they gave and took turns and blows with general good humor. The motley group of boys and girls ranged in ages and the bigger kids looked out for the little ones and parents young and old agreed that this was a great group of young people.
Lately, though there seemed to be a shift in attitude, as though with the onset of middle school the invisible lines were drawn and camps created. Today the innocent game seemed to have a frenzied sense to it, as though there were an undercurrent running that no adult would be able to see or feel. The hits a bit harder, the barbs a bit more cutting, tackles that were meant for touch only sound more violent, harsh. Then the words, the comments riddle the air.
“Take that one, freak! You’re going down tonight; I’ll make you wish you were like the rest of us.”
“I told you not to talk to me when I’m at that table with the rest of the gang; you’re not one of us. Get that through your head. You’re not welcome there.”
“Gawd, no! I will never walk into that dance with you! Dude, what is wrong with you!”
The barrage of complaints rain down on their fellow neighborhood player. Where yesterday they traded “who’s your mama” jokes, today the jokes are replaced by hate and threats. The ambush of rage spewed forth, these young teens choosing to bushwhack one of their own, to make them pay for something beyond their control.
“Hey, step off; I haven’t done anything to you! What is your deal? All I did was wave your way in the lunch line, is that a friggin’ crime? You’ve only spent whole weeks at my house and vacationed with my family every summer.”
“You are a freak! Get this through your head; you made your choice when you decided to “come out.” You knew what would happen, man, you coulda rode the high all the way through school, and you had to declare who you are so the whole damn world would know. You don’t think people wonder about me? Man, you’re so dense! It’d be better if you’d just transfer or just… Ah, hell. I’m outta here.”
He took the rest of the group with him, leaving one alone, bushwhacked, bombarded, and beaten. Maybe it would be better to transfer or, there are other options. Yah, there are always other options, there is always another choice.
The hate, where do we learn it? When does the familiar companionship of a neighboring game of tag become something sinister? What motivates us to turn against each other so easily? The blows of a tackle may heal and the bruises fade, but the words and the intentions remain. Those don’t lose impact and can do far more damage than any broken bone or wounded ego. The tapes play for a lifetime, shaping ideas of identity and limiting potential. How unaware of the impact we have on one another.
The Creator looks at each of us with joy and love, unconditionally. Where we see a flaw or imperfection, or a different way of behaving in the world, God sees pure perfection and potential. All of creation is embraced with a love that knows no bounds, no barriers, and nothing can separate any of us from that perfect love. It does not matter who we love, how we love, what we have done, said, or left undone; we are called and claimed as beloved children. In that moment of conflict in the backyard, the love for every one of those kids overflowed from the Creator, the same love covered each of them and will continue to cover them no matter what happens tomorrow. That unconditional and fierce love covers each of us, no matter the age, experience, past, present, or future. That is an impact which can move mountains and tame even the most hateful tongues. The impact of steadfast love now and forever holds true.
“If you find the godless world is hating you, remember it got its start hating me. If you lived on the world’s terms, the world would love you as one of its own. But since I picked you to live on God’s terms and no longer on the world’s terms, the world is going to hate you.
John 15:17-19
cindythea
divinewrites 