I’m a big man. It’s nothing I brag about. It’s nothing that defines me. It’s just the truth. It’s self-evident. But I’ve never seen myself as big. I never even notice it unless it has a positive or negative effect on everyday life. But I didn’t start out being big. I’m sure my Mother is happy about that. When I was in elementary school I was a pretty average sized child. And though folks who know me might not believe this, I was painfully shy. I never spoke much in school and I spent a lot of time in my own world. So, it came as an enormous surprise to me that at twelve or thirteen I began to grow very quickly and soon was the biggest thing walking around the halls of my school. And, although I was monumental in size, I was the same, small, shy child inside. Standing out in school did not make any of this easier for me, because now I was a bigger target. I just wanted to be left alone, but my size did not allow it. There was a smaller student in my class also named Tim. He was very popular, self-assured and athletic. But I don’t think he liked being the smaller Tim. And, so, one day, in the playground Little Tim decided that beating up Big Tim would be necessary to keep his standing in the schoolyard hierarchy. I had no idea what was happening. In retrospect, it makes perfect sense. But at the time I just remember being scared and confused. And I also remember that the words I heard in Sunday school were running over and over again in my head. “If someone strikes you on the cheek, offer him the other cheek.” And so, with dozens of kids standing around us, Little Tim called me out and informed me that he was going to beat me up. I just stood there. I had no idea what was expected of me. Little Tim put up his fists, pranced around me a couple of times like Muhammad Ali and punched me square in the nose. I’m guessing he expected me to cry or run away, but I remember laughing. Probably the worst thing I could have done. It just made him more angry and determined. But it all seemed so unreal, so stupid. I wasn’t going to hit him back. And punching me in the nose was the worst thing he could have done. For, you see, I sneeze every time I bump my nose. It’s always been that way. I bump then sneeze. I can’t help it. I would have been a very awkward boxer. So, little Tim punched, and knowing how my face works, I laughed and then I sneezed. What I didn’t know was that my nose had begun to bleed at the same time. So when I sneezed a crimson cloud came billowing from my nose, spraying little Tim and the crowd of onlookers with a downpour of red. It was like one of the plagues of Egypt. Little Tim just stood there looking down at his splattered clothing. He was also the best-dressed kid in school, but not for the rest of that day. Half the kids laughed and the others walked off in disgust and no other child threatened to beat me up for the rest of that year. Yeah, sixth grade turned out okay for Big Tim. Maybe, I should have just walked away. Maybe, I should have fought back. Maybe, there’s just no lesson to be learned from this silly little story. But, I’ve noticed something over the years. I’ve learned that there is always a way to make it through difficult times if good humor and pure intentions are the starting place. Jesus tells us things. Not because they are profound, or poetic or even theological, even though they are all those things. He tells us these things because they will help us. He tells us these things because they will help us be better people. And in turn it makes our world a more tolerable place to live.
Posted on: Tue, 28 Jan 2014 15:08:13 +0000
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