I can tell you with great certainty that
they
remember
you
. It's a sobering thought. I know how abuse in my youth hurt me deeply and still affects me today, and I've met several folks who can relate to my experience because they've suffered similarly.
But now flip it around: How many folks out there in the world, most of them my age, are still living with the effects of the teasing
I
dished out at
them?
How many people are still wounded because of what you or I did to them?
I can see the faces of some of the people I hurt. How about you? How many faces can
you
count?
Young person, are you inflicting wounds on others? What kind of memories do you want to live with? Will you really be proud of yourself for teasing that person who is weaker than you are in some way? Is your self-esteem so low that you must step on somebody else to feel good about yourself? How do you want people to remember youâas a lowlife bully who wallowed in self-delusion, or as a courageous friend who stood nobly on the wall, who stood up for what was right, and who defended those who could not defend themselves? These tough questions need honest answers.
Second, you need to go to God for cleansing. If we confess our sinsâsure, you know the restâHe'll forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (see 1 John 1:9). But we need to take it a step further. Here's what I've done: I've gone to the Lord in prayer and asked Him to bring to my mind the folks I've hurt. Then I've apologized to the Lord, in prayer, and I've apologized to them, asking God to grant each person the grace to forgive me and to help them find healing in their lives.
Third, just as I have done, ask God to change your heart and make you like Jesus. Consider how Scripture describes Him in Matthew 12:20: “A battered reed He will not break off, and a smoldering wick He will not put out” (NASB). Jesus never took cruel advantage of anyone's disadvantage. The bruised, He helped. The weak and dying, He renewed. That's what I want to do; that's how I want to be.
Fourth, you might consider a new way of thanking God for whatever advantages He has given you: your physical strength, your intelligence, your sense of humor, your reputation, that position on the cheerleading squad or the football team, or the opened doors of opportunity at your job.
You can thank Him by putting your gift into service on behalf of others. You can become, in your own way, the guardian who stands on the wall and says to those who are weaker, smaller, and less advantaged, “Don't you worry. Nobody's going to hurt you, not on my watch.”
To borrow from Shakespeare, it's time to “grace this latter age with noble deeds.” Rather than flaunting our gifts, our success, our popularity, our privilege, we should realize that it's time to be noble and consider those gifts for what they are: our means, our resources by which we are to help others.
Now it's my turn.
Wounding can be so easy, and the line between playful teasing and thoughtless tormenting can become dangerously blurred. I could try to rationalize that my teasing was the playful variety, but as I look back on it, I have to admit that some of the kids I teased were not laughing along.
It's so easy not to think about what you're doing as you join with others in selecting that one person who doesn't quite fit. It's so easy to join in the mockery and the gossip rather than come to that person's defense.
I can still see the faces and remember the names of those who tormented me. But I can also remember some of the names and faces of young men and women toward whom I was less than a friend. I have to wonder how they feel about what I and others said about them and how that may have affected the course of their lives.
May I go on record?
Friend, if you remember Frank Peretti teasing you or hurting you in any way, I want to say I'm sorry. Sure, I've thought about it at other times, but the writing of this book has brought me face to face with my own culpability, and I repent and apologize. There were words that came from my mouth that I wish I could recapture and banish forever. There were moments when I wasn't there for you and should have been. There were times I sided against you, when I knew that side was in the wrong.
Friend, you didn't deserve it. Please forgive me, and may God grant you grace to forgive any others who have hurt you as I did. May you find freedom from pain and bitterness and healing as we grow together in God's unconditional love.
THINGS COULD
BE DIFFERENT
A
separate room had been prepared for the boys. It was cold and impersonal, like a prison; the echoing, concrete walls had been painted dirty beige, then marred and chipped over the years, then painted again. The walls were bare except for posted rules, warnings, and advisories, and the only windows were high against the ceiling, caged behind iron grillwork thickly wrapped in paint, rust, and more paint. The air was dank, tainted with the odors of steam, sweat, and skin. Years of rust and sediment from the dripping showerheads and armies of bare, wet feet had marbled the floor with streaks and patches of reddish brown.
The boy was nervous and afraid on his first day through that big door. He was small, nonathletic, and timid. He'd never been in this place, or anywhere like this place, before. Though he excelled in academics and felt comfortable in most any classroom, to him this was a different, threatening world, a world of muscles, workouts, sports, and sweat. As he lined up along the lockers with the other boys his age, he could see some of them sizing him up. “Hi, wimp,” one of them said, a sneer curling his lip.
“Hey!” It was the teacher's assistant, a few grades older, overseeing the lineup. He went over to the kid who'd spoken and got right in his face. “You don't do that in here.”
The name-caller was about to come back with something, but a shrill whistle made him jump.
It was the gym teacher, Mr. Akers, entering the locker room like an officer coming on deck. “All right, silence! Everybody, eyes forward, straight and at attention!”
He got immediate compliance, and with good enough reason. This guy was built like a tank, and his expression made it clear he was not to be trifled with. He carried a clipboard. He had a whistle around his neck. He wore a tight T-shirt. He carried a baseball bat planed flat, the perfect implement for administering swats.
“Mr. Lane will take the roll.”
The teacher's assistant, Bruce Lane, called out the names of the students and checked them off as they answered, “Here.” All through the roll call, Mr. Akers stood there with his clipboard and his swatter, studying every face.
When the roll call ended, he said, “At ease. Have a seat on the benches, fellows. Make room over there. Let's go.”
They sat down facing him. He leaned against the wall, one foot flat on the wall behind him so that his knee extended, forming a desk for his clipboard. “Gentlemen, welcome to my class. On your class schedule you see this hour designated as â
Physical
Education,' but let me assure you, this class will involve more than just your bodies. Any education worthy of the name doesn't just build the body or the mind; it also builds character. So you'll need more than a strong body and athletic skill to excel in this classâ sorry to disappoint some of you. You'll need to apply your minds and your spirits as well.
“It is our hope that you'll leave here healthier and more physically fit than when you first came in. But it is also our hope that you'll leave here having improved the personal qualities you'll need in every other area of your lives: discipline, perseverance, the ability and willingness to work as a team, and a sportsmanlike attitude.
“If you enjoy competition, I encourage you to turn out for the basketball, baseball, football, tennis, or soccer teams. I assure you, in those programs you will have every opportunity to one-up the guy on the opposing team and show everybody what a great athlete you are. In this class, the only person you'll be competing against is yourself. We're going to help you set reasonable goals for improving your fitness, strength, and stamina, and then we're going to do all we can to help you achieve those goals.
“Now as you look around the room, you'll notice that human beings come in all sizes and shapes, all different levels of strength and ability. I want to emphasize that none of that matters here. Regardless of your size or physical maturity, each and every one of you deserves the chance to feel proud of what you can accomplish. That's why we're going to be a team. We're going to think as a team, act as a team, and learn as a team. We expect you to help each other out, to cheer for each other, to do all you can to help your teammates rise to the top of their potential.”
Mr. Akers toyed with the ominous, flattened baseball bat as he looked every boy in the eye. “That's why we do not tolerate bullies in this class. We do not allow teasing, harassment, put-downs, one-upmanship, or the mistreatment of any teammate by another.” He paused to let that sink in, and then added, “You will maintain sportsmanlike conduct at all times, showing courtesy and respect for your teammates.”
The boy had come into this class feeling timid and afraid, but by the time Mr. Akers had finished his orientation remarks, he could see he had an advocate if he ever needed one. He was starting to feel safe.
In the weeks that followed, Mr. Akers and his assistants worked with each class member, planning out a physical fitness program appropriate to each boy's capability. Because of his small stature and clumsiness, the boy had always been intimidated by any sport that threw him among bodies bigger than he was. The workout room with its treadmill, stair stepper, and weight machine appealed to him, because he could work on his own, without embarrassment.
“Just remember,” Mr. Akers told him, “you're not here to be like somebody else. You're here to improve yourself and to help the others do the same.”
With encouragement from Mr. Akers, the young man set reasonable goals for himself. With encouragement from his classmates, he exceeded those goals. On the last day of the semester, he cheered for his classmates, and they cheered for him.
He didn't think he'd ever look forward to gym class, but by semester's end, he decided he could enjoy P.E. class. He even liked Mr. Akers.
Well, we all like happy endings, but is this one realistic? I believe it can be. All it takes is a change in attitude on the part of parents, principals, teachers, and others in positions of authority. We teach our children to say please and thank you, not to burp at the table, to share, to clean up their rooms; we try to educate them to stay off drugs and to abstain from sex outside of marriage. Why do we not teach them, from the very beginning, the sanctity of human life, the dignity of the individual, the responsibility we have to respect and safeguard our fellowman? Why aren't such ideals made perfectly clear to the students in the halls of our schools?
From the outset, on the very first day of school, the principal should address the entire student body and let them know that teasing, harassment, bullying, and abuse absolutely will not be toleratedâand yes, that would include upperclassmen picking on underclassmen. A senior razzing a freshman may seem cute and traditional, but all it really does is divide two human beings who could have been friends and helped each other. It also sets a “tradition” that opens wide the doors of cruelty, that tells the students it's fun and okay to make someone's life miserable.
Whatever attitude the school leadership displays will trickle down through the student body. If teasing a younger kid is okay, then having no regard for the feelings of others is okay. If the principal and teachers remain aloof and indifferent toward bullying, the kids will remain indifferent and simply watch as it goes on all around them. If the gym teacher is cruel, brutal, and unapproachable, the boys in his gym class will be the same way toward each other, equating brutality with manliness and depriving our world of that many more
true
men.
Imagine a school that openly, directly enforces a zero-tolerance, anti-bullying policy, instructing and encouraging kids to call witnesses and to back each other up when a bullying incident occurs. Imagine students being instructed that they are responsible for their fellow human beings and that it is right and noble to get involved when someone is being hurt. Imagine a student being able to attend school knowing that his or her classmates, whether friend or stranger, are there for them if the need should ever arise.
If the school leadership, from the outset, establishes a policy of mutual respect at all levels and backs it up with rules, instruction, procedures, and
example
, we just might have a safer, more ennobling school environment and a few more compassionate human beings walking our streets after graduation.
Who knows? Such a refreshing attitude might just spill over into our families, into the workplace, our churches, and civic groups, making it a better “playground” for all of us.
Please take this matter of bullying seriously. You were a kid once. Would you want your child to suffer the taunts you had to suffer? Have you really forgotten how it felt?
Imagine this situation: A loving husband approaches his wife from behind her back, puts his arms around her, and calls her a particular nickname just to be funny. Suddenly, she turns on him, lashes him up one side and down the other, and breaks into tears. When the smoke and shrapnel finally settle and he has prepared an ice pack to put over his black eye, she informs him that she was always called that name in grade school and she hated it, hated it, hated it!
Well, okay, he won't call her that name again, but even so, the incident has smacked them both in the head with one realization: That stuff comes back. When we've been hurt, tormented, abused, or teased as children, we still have raw spots that remain into our adulthood. We remember how it feels, and we don't like it when people in the grownup worldâa friend, a spouse, a traffic cop, a crabby clerkâ treat us the way we were treated years ago. Ever have a friend, spouse, or associate throw a little stinger your way? Perhaps they called you a name similar to the one you hated in grade school. Perhaps they called attention to a physical characteristic for which you paid dearly when you were young. Maybe they made a snide comment about the clothes you were wearing or the way you combed your hair. Part of you feels as if you're right back on that grade school playground or in that junior-high hallway all over again. That wounded child is still inside you.