You’re Mean

Most of my life people have accused me of being mean. Which is interesting since God has called me into two very emotionally sensitive ministries; pastoral ministry and counseling. Does God have a sense of humor or what? There is a commercial out that several people have called to my attention. For some odd reason, when they view it, I come to mind. Check it out. It probably does say a lot about me because I think it is hilarious.

And I will admit to being mean. At least in my early years, it was true. As a grade school student I was afraid of people and painfully shy. My first three years of school I only spoke to my teachers and my big brother. I found that the best way to keep people at bay was to be mean to them. I didn’t have to say anything to them to keep them away because by the age of four I could glare down a goat.

As I gained a little age, it wasn’t so much that I was mean; I was just mad. About what I have no clue. Ask my older brother. I was mad all of the time. I woke up looking for a fight. If I wasn’t angry, it didn’t take much to get me there. Not only was I mean, I fought dirty and with any weapon I could lay my hands on and some were very sharp. That is probably why he didn’t tell on me to my parents when I started smoking because smoking seemed to calm me down a little. I’m sure he thought; anything to soothe the savage beast.

Then along came the junior high school years. I wasn’t particularly mean in junior high. I was too scared and confused to be anything – much less mean. Like most boys, for me junior high was a time of lying low and trying to figure out what was going on. My world was changing – rapidly. Suddenly girls became interesting and important. When I first noticed them they were mysterious and I couldn’t figure them out. (Some things haven’t changed much since junior high.) My body was growing rapidly and changing is some disturbing ways. Since the move up from grade school, school work had become more difficult with lots and lots of homework. I was aware I was lacking in some very necessary social skills to attract one of those puzzling girls I had noticed. But had no clue what they might be. My mother suggested bathing regularly but what do mothers know? So, like any intelligent boy of that age, I just shut up and stood in the corner.

Ah, then came high school. And with high school came sports. When I played football or baseball, I could be mean. In football I often did mean things. I played in the “good old days” before they started trying to make the game safe. I was so pleased when I split another player’s helmet or broke their facemask. If someone showed up on the field of play sporting a brace or a bandage I was all over it. In baseball, while my batting average never soared, I managed to develop a huge repertoire of nasty things to say to opposing players to take their attention off of the game. It is almost impossible to play good baseball when one is angry so my strategy was if you can’t out play them, irritate them into submission. Possibly the best game of my high school career was when the entire opposing team cleared the bench and, armed with bats, chased me into the locker room. I think I hit a nerve. Perhaps I hit a bunch nerves.

And then along came Jesus. When I was a college student my older brother helped me understand that Christianity is not a religious approach to understanding God but is a relationship with God made available through God’s Son, Jesus. I grabbed on to that relationship and everything about my life began to change. I saw God differently. I saw other people differently. The only thing that seemed to be the same was me. But I wasn’t. It was not long before I started realizing that I wasn’t so angry anymore. Instead of naturally being a “hater” I started becoming a “lover.” Instead of seeing people’s flaws and disliking them, my first impulse upon meeting someone new became to see what was right and good about them and like them. Weird. And people quit calling me mean.

That is until I got married and had children. My child consistently informed me that I was mean. I was mean because I forced them to do things they didn’t want to do. I didn’t let them do some of the things other kids were doing. They would tell me that I was yelling at them. That one always threw me because it was certain I had not raised my voice. Then I began to realize that what they meant was I was correcting them. After that, when they accused me of yelling at them I would tell them, “I can yell at you. I know how to yell. Would you like for me to yell at you?” Their answer was always no.

But I still occasionally hear the “you’re mean” accusation. And I hear others like me accused of being mean. And we are not. We are doing a “bad” thing. We are doing some socially unacceptable things. But we are not being mean. What we are doing is telling people the truth. In our present culture the ultimate bad thing to do is not to be nice. We have become so turned around and upside down morally and spiritually we have somehow made being real and honest a bad thing.

Don’t ever say anything that might make someone feel bad. Even if what they are doing is destructive physically, emotionally or spiritually. Especially spiritually. Someone is doing something that God has clearly pointed out as a sin. They are doing something that, for some excellent reasons, God has communicated that He doesn’t want us to do. Springing from a desire to help such a person, one points out that what they are doing is contrary to God’s word. The almost universal response is, “How dare you? You are being judgmental and mean. Tisk, tisk. (And this is my favorite part.) God wouldn’t approve of your being mean. (Mean being a code word for telling the truth.)

There are those of us who refuse to lie to people and tell them things that will make them feel better emotionally when we know that what they are doing is going to profoundly damage them emotionally, physically or spiritually. We are great believes that when Jesus said, “You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free,” He meant it and it was and still is the truth. We are great believers in the story of the Prodigal Son; the story about the boy who had to come to himself, had to figure out who he was, where he was and how he had gotten there before he had any chance at all of finding his way out of his self induced trauma. We believe that before you can find your way to where you are going you have to figure out where you really are. Before you can come to God, you must come to yourself; come to the place where you can be honest with and about yourself.

I have also come to the conclusion that subtle doesn’t work. So, when I speak the truth I seek to be very clear. I want to help you make some positive decisions in your life and will put a lot on the line to get that done. You and your future are so important to me that I will take a chance on offending or angering you. I did it with my children, their friends and their friends’ parents. When my children made some outrageous request and backed that request up with the authoritative statement that their friends’ parents were going to let them do it I was will to respond and say, “If your friends’ parents are going to let them do this, your friends’ parents are stupid and I am not. By the way, you are welcome to tell your friends’ parents what I said about them and have them call me.” I never received a call.

Mean? No, I am not mean. Clear? Yes. Subtle? Not even close. Willing to take a chance on you not liking me in order to help you? Every time. I guess it comes down to this. I love you too much and I have become way too nice to be anything but “mean.”

Copyright © 2010, William T. McConnell, All Rights Reserved