The story...
We were enjoying a vacation in the Florida Keys - seated at a table about twenty feet in front of the mic. It's a comedy club and the "comedian" was taking "stinging" jabs at targeted people in the crowd. I leaned over to my best friend and said "I can't believe that I'm a fully-capable adult yet I don't feel safe enough to get up from this chair and walk to that men's room." What did I fear? This was far away from home and I'd likely never see any of these people again. The guy was clearly acting out his role as the comedian. What messages did I fear he might send?
I could offer you a long list of personal messages that I don't want to hear. And, I suppose there're many more "funny" critiques that might embarrass me. Yet, the degree that I might be embarrassed seems to negatively correlate with the degree that I fell okay about myself - my condition. For me, my condition is best when I am bearing fruit, e.g.: actually being kind, consistently praying/meditating, and walking humbly/honestly with God in Christ. However, even in my best condition, as a fellow human, I can be hurt by others. Some of my sharpest stings are self critiques. Therefore, I find myself relying on my old armor for protection - that guardedness that keeps us more distant, yet protected, from others.
How might the only church in town be more of a "No Armor Needed" zone? I've witnessed armor-free zones within community; so, I hope that most people would find small groups where they felt more accepted and loved just as they are. The full-church community will be significantly safer than my comedy club experience; yet regretfully, I expect that people will still need some type of armor just to get along - we're all works in progress.
Just for today...
"I take into account how affected I am by my past when I meet people who seem difficult, and I try to give them a break." Hope for Today (p. 100)
"The worst sin toward our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them." Courage to Change (p. 100)
"Painful experiences come from the thorns that wound us; they make us forget they also have roses." One Day at a Time (p. 100)
