My first couple months of Junior High were miserable.
There was this clique of roughneck kids who instinctively knew I was easy prey. Like nature's predators, they probably sensed my discomfort and fear. The "smart" kid who just wanted to stay out of trouble and be left alone. So they knocked books out of my hands between classes, taunted me, and made threatening gestures. I got shoved a few times, and though nobody actually hit me, the psychological blows were enough to give me nightmares and a sense of dread every morning on the way to school.
Eventually, I found my niche in athletics and music. The roughneck kids lost their interest in me, and I, my concern for them.
About 6 years ago, after we'd moved back in state, I had occasion to hire a lawn care company. It was a particularly dry summer and I stopped to chat with the person applying fertilizer. It only took a second to recognize one of my chief tormentors from those miserable school days. He recalled my athletic success, and neither of us mentioned the rest. He still seemed a bit rough in language and manners as we briefly discussed the interim decades. Our attention turned to the tormented lawn and I politely pressed him for better results in the months to come. The lawn didn't improve, and by the next spring I had hired a different service.
I dwelled on my decision a little bit, reasoning that it had nothing to do with his presence on the account. The lawn soon rebounded and I didn't given my decision much thought for the next few years.
But last year was another dry one and last fall I told the ‘new’ lawn care company to shape up and revive the sickly looking turf by this coming fall. I realized that I gave them more generous recovery time than I'd given the last company and account manager. It gave me pause. Had I really let my long ago hurt influence something so petty as lawn fertilizer? Was that turning the other cheek? Honestly, I'm really not sure, though the lawn does look better now.
Tonight, I listened to a radio interview with Christopher Hitchens. He's a bright, articulate and witty columnist. A conservative, by the way. He's also the author of "God is not Great," a maddeningly manipulative diatribe on God and religion from his atheist point of view. His many radio and webcasted debates with Christian representatives are thoroughly provocative and enjoyable, partly because he's so well spoken and cogent in his dismissively misguided positions. He's a modern day bully and tormentor of people who are not confident or prepared enough to meet him head on.
Tonight though, I'm praying earnestly for Christopher Hitchens and I hope you'll do the same.
He's got cancer. He's undergoing treatment, but he is concerned that they found it later than is best for assured recovery.
I'm praying for his full recovery, no different than I would for any other friend. Cancer is no good for anyone to suffer through and I'd wish it on no person. Separately, I'm also praying for his salvation, cancer recovery or not. I sincerely hope that Christopher Hitchens will have a chance to receive and appreciate the love of God, whom he does not believe exists. I have no question of my own sincerity on this one. It's heartfelt and real. God is for everyone. Even for a man who has done his best to intimidate and divert other people from their relationship with the Creator.
Tonight, Christopher Hitchens has done me a favor. I'm not just praying for him. I'm praying for the roughneck kids who gave me nightmares and dread all those years ago. I’ve never thought to do that. I might not do anything about the lawn service change - but I’ll be awake tonight to pray blessings and prosperity for that kid who tormented me.
What do you believe?
