Was Jesus Ever “Mean”?
n the last couple of posts, I shared about staying in a neighborhood with bullies. That experience helped us learn to follow God’s lead even when it didn’t make sense and gave my children and me the chance to practice https://abigailfollows.com/the-thing-i-forgot/
At the same time all this was happening, I continued a lesson that I began learning in India. Namely, How to Be “Mean.”
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Being Mean, 101
Like many Christians, I was raised to be kind. To comfort the brokenhearted, to befriend the lonely. And, perhaps because of my personality, I interpreted kindness as never being “mean.” To me, being “mean” meant making others feel bad. In fact, I made it my job to make sure others never felt bad. I learned to notice discomfort and neutralize it, the way one might smash a cockroach… except, you know, nicer.
Then I had kids.
Ashi and Arav were born while we were serving in our first missionary post in India. I spent the first year or two of their lives soothing infant discomfort. I found I was fairly good at this. Then began the unfortunate duty of giving time-outs and hand flicks and unwanted naps.
Discomfort is not always the enemy. Sometimes discomfort is the catalyst of healing.
I’ll be honest. This does not come naturally to me. Even now, I discipline my kids because I fear God and want them to grow up to love and serve Him. Otherwise, doling out discipline is my least favorite chore. Why? Because I want my children to be happy all the time. The problem is, being happy all the time is not going to teach them to be responsible, brave, diligent, resourceful, respectful, Godly men and women.
And, really, I want them to be happy because it’s more comfortable for me.
“Abby,” my mother-in-law once said, “Wear your Mean Mom Badge with pride.” She meant that I was going to be called a “mean mom” sometimes, because I was making my kid rewrite sloppy homework or pay for a broken lamp, and that I should consider the title a badge of honor. Because discomfort is not always the enemy. Sometimes discomfort is the catalyst of healing.
Being Mean, 201
We moved to North Africa when the kids were in early grade school. Thankfully, we had plenty of local family friends who gave our children a reason to love our host country. But I wondered how in the world the naughty neighborhood children grew up to be the adults we interacted with… kind, funny, hospitable, agreeable.
I realized that there is a social power game being played nearly all the time, by adults and children alike, but more obviously among children. Who is powerful? Who is not? Whose family sticks up for them at all costs? Who is alone? And this game determines which old ladies get justice, and which ones are ignored. Which people are honored and which are shamed.
We realized that we needed to make a show of strength and protection, to send a message: you don’t mess with the Follows kids.
So, we brought other people’s kids back home by the arm. We told others they were a shame to their parents. When a boy said something vulgar to my daughter, I went to his house with a sneaker in my hand to beat him. (I didn’t beat him. The gesture was scary enough to cure him.) My husband chased some disrespectful kids down with his bike and turned them over to their parents. We threatened to call the police. We puffed out our proverbial feathers and made ourselves look good and mean.
That’s an interesting phrase, isn’t it? Good and mean. And I guess it fits.
Because at the same time, we were sending our kids to bring cookies to this neighbor or that neighbor, and asking how to cook this or that recipe, and playing tag or soccer with groups of kids, and handing out bandaids for skinned knees, and loaning sugar here or a broom there. We prayed with people and visited when babies were born or grandmas died. And as we spent our days being “good and mean,” things changed.
The bullying waned dramatically.
To Bring the Light
I have a friend who has been trying to get her electricity hooked up for five years. She has no family and little money. And even though she’s worn out several “unjust judges” with her complaints, her house is still the only one in her neighborhood without the cheerful glow of a lightbulb at night.
This woman eats her dinner in the dark.
That’s why we are here. To bring the Light of the World to people who walk in darkness.
One night I dreamt her house was full of lightbulbs, all aglow with soft, warm light. Joshua and I decided to try and help her. She had saved up enough money to bribe enough people to do their jobs and hook up her electricity, but they still wouldn’t come. So we talked to people. We yelled at people. We made a fuss. We called every day. We sat in offices.
And just like in our experiences with the neighbor kids, we felt awkward and unsure. It feels better to be polite… but sometimes our kids, or bullies, or the downtrodden need us to be strong.
The day they hooked up our friend’s electricity, she woman tried to kiss my feet. I hugged her instead.
“Allah sent you,” she said, crying. “He sent you to bring me the light.” And I felt a lump in my throat at the irony and beauty of her words.
That’s why we are here. To bring the Light of the World to people who walk in darkness.
Friends, we have an enemy more calculating than some neighborhood ruffian or lazy politician. I’m sure our enemy would have loved for us to move away from here before we had a chance to bring anyone any kind of light, electric or otherwise.
But we don’t take orders from bullies.
Jesus, Strong and Kind
Jesus is my hero.
Jesus loves people with an absolute love, a love free of bitterness and resentment. And He told some of those same people their beauty was a cover for dead men’s bones.
Jesus can feed 5,000 with a few loaves and fish, and then offend the same crowd by refusing to use His power to gratify their appetites.
Jesus was kind; He never “broke a bruised reed, nor snuffed a smoldering wick.” (Matthew 12:20.) He never discouraged nor turned away a seeking sinner. But He was not a pushover. He would not allow Himself to be killed before the time His father commanded (John 7:30); He refused to fulfill social obligations that conflicted with His mission (Matthew 12:48-50.) He stood up for the oppressed, even when it cost him his life to save them.
“No one can take my life from me. I sacrifice it voluntarily. For I have the authority to lay it down when I want to and also to take it up again. For this is what my Father has commanded.” John 10:18, NLT.
In our battle against bullies, let us not forget that the real enemy has already lost the war. And may that thought make us brave enough to go on God’s errands… whether errands of gentle encouragement or bold exhortation.
