![[welcome to the fringe]](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cgQ-gNCNMwc/SOOjAIdAaII/AAAAAAAAABE/W33L8V7aJFY/S1600-R/NEW+COVER.jpg)
My parents have a 10 x 14 picture on their wall of me wearing a plaid skirt.And I am proud of it.
It is souvenir from my childhood, reminding me of the two years that I spent living as an American boy in Scotland. It was pretty much like living in the film Braveheart, without all of the killing and warmongering.
Every day was an adventure...
Scotland is the land of skinned knees, cool scars and chipped teeth. While American children are playing hopscotch, jumprope and teeter totter, Scottish lads are inventing wildly hazardous ways to injure themselves and others. Bruises are badges of honor. Each day carries a sense of impending danger.
One day I am sprinting up and down the soccer field, slide-tackling friends and muddying up my school uniform. I feel a tap on the shoulder and turn to be greeted by a mob of fellow classmates, each sporting a mischievous grin. Probably not a good sign.
“Scot, we’ve go’ a noo game that we’d like ye’ ta play wee us”, explains the leader of the pack.
Translation: “Scot, we’ve developed an insane game. We need a guinea pig, and you’ll do.”
“What game is it?”, I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.
“A Le’ an’ a Weeeng”, he clearly enunciates.
“Nah. I’m good, thanks. I saw you play ‘A Leg and a Wing’ yesterday.”, I say while attempting to disguise my crippling fear.
“A Leg and a Wing” is a simple game. Allow me to explain. One innocent and unassuming young man is tackled and held to the ground by an assortment of Scottish hooligans. These boys each grab an arm or a leg, and then collectively attempt to toss the victim as far as possible. They call it “A Leg and a Wing”, but it could just as easily be renamed “Child Hurling” or “Human Flinging”. Obviously you can understand why on this particular day I am less than enthusiastic about becoming a projectile.
Unfortunately for me, these “friends” do not take my trepidation into account. Before I can plead for my life I am firmly pinned to the field and awaiting the inevitable. As the guys are preparing to throw me, I notice that a crowd is assembling in a circle surrounding us. The soccer match is put on hold so that everyone may witness my exciting moment.
My captors lift me off of the ground and begin to swing me in unison. Like a pendulum, these four young men sway my sixth grade body back and forth. With each arc they successfully gain greater momentum. Fear and panic set in. “Go to a happy place”, I mutter to myself. The violent swinging is accompanied by a catchy little tune, sung in unison by the posse as well as the crowd. Feel free to sing along:
“A leg and a wing, to see the king...”
“A one!...”
“A two!...”
“A three!”
I am instantly launched into the heavens. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I happen to be quite aerodynamic. Tumbling through the air, time slows to a crawl. Like a black box, my brain records the intricate details of this solo flight. Snapshots of green grass, an overcast sky, flailing arms and legs, and an excited mob each vividly play in my head to this day. As I begin the descent, instinct kicks in. Sensing that I am going to land on my back, my brain tells my arms to awkwardly stretch behind me to break the fall. Thanks a lot brain. I have been able to piece together the next few events through the accounts of friends in the crowd. Several attest to hearing a “snap” as my arm bravely cushions the fall. Understandably, I’m a little fuzzy on details involving the impact.
Have you ever had an injury in which the pain is almost non-existent in the beginning, but slowly builds over time? Well, this was not like that at all. This pain was instant and throbbing. I immediately rolled over, clutching my arm to my chest and gritting my teeth in agony. I lay on the ground, waiting for anyone to come and help me to my feet. Several minutes pass before I muster the strength and presence of mind to sit up and survey my surroundings.
What I see next, surprises me. The once vibrant mob of onlookers has dwindled. Only a few sympathetic individuals remain. Life in the schoolyard has returned to normal. Realizing that no one is stepping forward, I clumsily manage to stand. Alone, I make my way into the school to seek out help.
Although I can obviously relate with the reality of experiencing loneliness in the midst of pain, I have a confession to make. More often I identify with those within the crowd. Countless times I have chosen to stand by and watch from a distance as others grapple with their own pain, brokenness and sorrow. I’ve even found myself making comments about the difficult situations I see people in, all the while choosing to remain a concerned spectator. I resonate with the internal conflict experienced by those within the crowd. I have used many personal reasons for choosing not to step into an opportunity to show compassion, even as others are retreating.
I’m sure some knew that they would get in trouble for flinging me and were simply choosing the path of self-preservation. It’s possible that some of these same guys felt bad for hurting me and didn’t know how to deal with having to help their victim. Others simply wanted to return to the soccer game. There were probably even those who were completely unaware that I had been injured. Perhaps some expected that someone else would take care of my needs. Others knew that I was hurting but simply weren’t concerned. And certainly, some stood by and looked on, deeply wanting to act, but lacking courage. These reasons, among countless others, provide fuel for the fear which paralyzes you and I.
Albert Einstein observed that, “the world is a dangerous place. Not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” He correctly identifies a dark side of human nature, the tendency to join the crowd in choosing to remain spectators. Can you identify with the mob?
Imagine you are standing in line at Starbucks. The Barista is new and is hurriedly trying to handle the line of drinks that sit on the bar. You’re keenly aware that the customers in front of you are becoming agitated. You even begin to recognize the universal signs of impatience. A glance at the watch, a loud sigh, an obvious attempt to peer over the bar at the beverage queue. Some customers even begin to comment to one another about their dissatisfaction. I’ve been in this exact situation, have you? I’ve even chosen to join in with them as we express our not-so-subtle irritation. I’m in a hurry. My schedule is important. What’s taking so long?
What if instead of giving into our base emotions, you and I searched for opportunities to diffuse these situations, standing in between the critical crowd and their “villain of the moment”? In Starbucks, it may be as simple as just saying a few words of genuine encouragement to the frantic Barista. Perhaps even a smile to the disgruntled customers. Maybe you can change the subject. Of course, by choosing this line of action you risk incurring some of the negativity of the crowd. That comes with helping others carry their burdens.
Or perhaps you work for someone who is commonly perceived as being incompetent. Mob nature is to confide in everyone who agrees with you, spending large quantities of time talking about all of the substandard decisions they have made. Almost without effort, this boss has become the “villain of the moment”, a person that the crowd can commonly oppose. It actually seems cathartic to gossip behind closed doors, doesn’t it?
Is there another way? Can we choose to buck human nature in favor of compassion and understanding? What could that look like? Perhaps it begins with taking the time to see life through the eyes of our ‘villain’. Warning: you may begin to actually care about this person. Often, you will find that bosses, administrators, teachers, co-workers, parents, mechanics, the guy who cut you off yesterday, and friends carry hurts, insecurities and other baggage which informs the decisions they make. These scars can actually skew their interactions with others, causing them to transfer their personal pain into the workplace, home, mall and highway.
In the scriptures we continually find Jesus displaying compassion towards those who are broken, marginalized, or even despised. In other words, he spends time showing authentic love to villains. You may be familiar with the story of the religious leaders who bring a woman who has been caught in adultery to Jesus. They announce that she deserves death and wish to show her no mercy. They place her brokenness on display. In bringing her before Jesus, they are attempting to put him in a difficult situation. Will he side with those who are demanding strict adherence to the law, or will he show mercy? In a moment of extraordinary courage, Jesus boldly responds to the accusers.
His response sounds something like this:
“Sure, this woman is broken. She has even broken the law. I’ll tell you what, any of you who are blameless can and throw the first stone. Go ahead.”
Over the next few moments, the impassioned mob disperses. Jesus then turns to the woman and asks her how many of her accusers remain to condemn her. She answers, “no one, sir.” Jesus then responds, “then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin.”
Jesus’ answer to the crowd of religious leaders is not vague. As he places himself in the line of fire between this woman and her accusers, his actions shout the worth and value that God sees in her. Without fear, he stands directly in the path of anger, misunderstanding, prejudice, and bitterness and willingly becomes the villain in the eyes of the crowd. Jesus reminds us that God is not distant and uncaring, but rather is deeply aware of our most intimate needs. His choice to stand for her outrages her accusers, who leave the situation with indignation. Their God could not possibly tolerate a woman like her. The God that they serve only loves people like them. Sound familiar?
Each day, we encounter those who have fallen to the ground. Tossed back and forth by circumstances, they are desperately trying to navigate this life. Many are alone. Could it be that we do not engage opportunities to show love to those in need because we want to avoid the piercing disapproval of our crowd? Are we so preoccupied with the fear of being misunderstood, criticized or rejected that we simply fail to respond to the cries of the broken? Do we fear being cast as the villain?
Or is it simply that our schedules do not allow us the freedom to become involved? Perhaps you and I are unwilling to act because we want to avoid drama, or pain. Maybe we don’t even see people who are hurting. Believe me, they are there. Do we stand back, hoping that someone more qualified will save the day? Or do we live like Jesus, whose deep love for each individual outweighs any potential fear?
The scriptures clearly say, “there is no fear in love. Perfect love drives out fear.”
Will love compel you and I to step in between the crowd and their “villain of the moment”? Are we willing to incur the wrath of the mob on behalf of the broken?
Are you willing to become the villain?
Scotland is the land of skinned knees, cool scars and chipped teeth. While American children are playing hopscotch, jumprope and teeter totter, Scottish lads are inventing wildly hazardous ways to injure themselves and others. Bruises are badges of honor. Each day carries a sense of impending danger.
One day I am sprinting up and down the soccer field, slide-tackling friends and muddying up my school uniform. I feel a tap on the shoulder and turn to be greeted by a mob of fellow classmates, each sporting a mischievous grin. Probably not a good sign.
“Scot, we’ve go’ a noo game that we’d like ye’ ta play wee us”, explains the leader of the pack.
Translation: “Scot, we’ve developed an insane game. We need a guinea pig, and you’ll do.”
“What game is it?”, I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.
“A Le’ an’ a Weeeng”, he clearly enunciates.
“Nah. I’m good, thanks. I saw you play ‘A Leg and a Wing’ yesterday.”, I say while attempting to disguise my crippling fear.
“A Leg and a Wing” is a simple game. Allow me to explain. One innocent and unassuming young man is tackled and held to the ground by an assortment of Scottish hooligans. These boys each grab an arm or a leg, and then collectively attempt to toss the victim as far as possible. They call it “A Leg and a Wing”, but it could just as easily be renamed “Child Hurling” or “Human Flinging”. Obviously you can understand why on this particular day I am less than enthusiastic about becoming a projectile.
Unfortunately for me, these “friends” do not take my trepidation into account. Before I can plead for my life I am firmly pinned to the field and awaiting the inevitable. As the guys are preparing to throw me, I notice that a crowd is assembling in a circle surrounding us. The soccer match is put on hold so that everyone may witness my exciting moment.
My captors lift me off of the ground and begin to swing me in unison. Like a pendulum, these four young men sway my sixth grade body back and forth. With each arc they successfully gain greater momentum. Fear and panic set in. “Go to a happy place”, I mutter to myself. The violent swinging is accompanied by a catchy little tune, sung in unison by the posse as well as the crowd. Feel free to sing along:
“A leg and a wing, to see the king...”
“A one!...”
“A two!...”
“A three!”
I am instantly launched into the heavens. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I happen to be quite aerodynamic. Tumbling through the air, time slows to a crawl. Like a black box, my brain records the intricate details of this solo flight. Snapshots of green grass, an overcast sky, flailing arms and legs, and an excited mob each vividly play in my head to this day. As I begin the descent, instinct kicks in. Sensing that I am going to land on my back, my brain tells my arms to awkwardly stretch behind me to break the fall. Thanks a lot brain. I have been able to piece together the next few events through the accounts of friends in the crowd. Several attest to hearing a “snap” as my arm bravely cushions the fall. Understandably, I’m a little fuzzy on details involving the impact.
Have you ever had an injury in which the pain is almost non-existent in the beginning, but slowly builds over time? Well, this was not like that at all. This pain was instant and throbbing. I immediately rolled over, clutching my arm to my chest and gritting my teeth in agony. I lay on the ground, waiting for anyone to come and help me to my feet. Several minutes pass before I muster the strength and presence of mind to sit up and survey my surroundings.
What I see next, surprises me. The once vibrant mob of onlookers has dwindled. Only a few sympathetic individuals remain. Life in the schoolyard has returned to normal. Realizing that no one is stepping forward, I clumsily manage to stand. Alone, I make my way into the school to seek out help.
Although I can obviously relate with the reality of experiencing loneliness in the midst of pain, I have a confession to make. More often I identify with those within the crowd. Countless times I have chosen to stand by and watch from a distance as others grapple with their own pain, brokenness and sorrow. I’ve even found myself making comments about the difficult situations I see people in, all the while choosing to remain a concerned spectator. I resonate with the internal conflict experienced by those within the crowd. I have used many personal reasons for choosing not to step into an opportunity to show compassion, even as others are retreating.
I’m sure some knew that they would get in trouble for flinging me and were simply choosing the path of self-preservation. It’s possible that some of these same guys felt bad for hurting me and didn’t know how to deal with having to help their victim. Others simply wanted to return to the soccer game. There were probably even those who were completely unaware that I had been injured. Perhaps some expected that someone else would take care of my needs. Others knew that I was hurting but simply weren’t concerned. And certainly, some stood by and looked on, deeply wanting to act, but lacking courage. These reasons, among countless others, provide fuel for the fear which paralyzes you and I.
Albert Einstein observed that, “the world is a dangerous place. Not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” He correctly identifies a dark side of human nature, the tendency to join the crowd in choosing to remain spectators. Can you identify with the mob?
Imagine you are standing in line at Starbucks. The Barista is new and is hurriedly trying to handle the line of drinks that sit on the bar. You’re keenly aware that the customers in front of you are becoming agitated. You even begin to recognize the universal signs of impatience. A glance at the watch, a loud sigh, an obvious attempt to peer over the bar at the beverage queue. Some customers even begin to comment to one another about their dissatisfaction. I’ve been in this exact situation, have you? I’ve even chosen to join in with them as we express our not-so-subtle irritation. I’m in a hurry. My schedule is important. What’s taking so long?
What if instead of giving into our base emotions, you and I searched for opportunities to diffuse these situations, standing in between the critical crowd and their “villain of the moment”? In Starbucks, it may be as simple as just saying a few words of genuine encouragement to the frantic Barista. Perhaps even a smile to the disgruntled customers. Maybe you can change the subject. Of course, by choosing this line of action you risk incurring some of the negativity of the crowd. That comes with helping others carry their burdens.
Or perhaps you work for someone who is commonly perceived as being incompetent. Mob nature is to confide in everyone who agrees with you, spending large quantities of time talking about all of the substandard decisions they have made. Almost without effort, this boss has become the “villain of the moment”, a person that the crowd can commonly oppose. It actually seems cathartic to gossip behind closed doors, doesn’t it?
Is there another way? Can we choose to buck human nature in favor of compassion and understanding? What could that look like? Perhaps it begins with taking the time to see life through the eyes of our ‘villain’. Warning: you may begin to actually care about this person. Often, you will find that bosses, administrators, teachers, co-workers, parents, mechanics, the guy who cut you off yesterday, and friends carry hurts, insecurities and other baggage which informs the decisions they make. These scars can actually skew their interactions with others, causing them to transfer their personal pain into the workplace, home, mall and highway.
In the scriptures we continually find Jesus displaying compassion towards those who are broken, marginalized, or even despised. In other words, he spends time showing authentic love to villains. You may be familiar with the story of the religious leaders who bring a woman who has been caught in adultery to Jesus. They announce that she deserves death and wish to show her no mercy. They place her brokenness on display. In bringing her before Jesus, they are attempting to put him in a difficult situation. Will he side with those who are demanding strict adherence to the law, or will he show mercy? In a moment of extraordinary courage, Jesus boldly responds to the accusers.
His response sounds something like this:
“Sure, this woman is broken. She has even broken the law. I’ll tell you what, any of you who are blameless can and throw the first stone. Go ahead.”
Over the next few moments, the impassioned mob disperses. Jesus then turns to the woman and asks her how many of her accusers remain to condemn her. She answers, “no one, sir.” Jesus then responds, “then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin.”
Jesus’ answer to the crowd of religious leaders is not vague. As he places himself in the line of fire between this woman and her accusers, his actions shout the worth and value that God sees in her. Without fear, he stands directly in the path of anger, misunderstanding, prejudice, and bitterness and willingly becomes the villain in the eyes of the crowd. Jesus reminds us that God is not distant and uncaring, but rather is deeply aware of our most intimate needs. His choice to stand for her outrages her accusers, who leave the situation with indignation. Their God could not possibly tolerate a woman like her. The God that they serve only loves people like them. Sound familiar?
Each day, we encounter those who have fallen to the ground. Tossed back and forth by circumstances, they are desperately trying to navigate this life. Many are alone. Could it be that we do not engage opportunities to show love to those in need because we want to avoid the piercing disapproval of our crowd? Are we so preoccupied with the fear of being misunderstood, criticized or rejected that we simply fail to respond to the cries of the broken? Do we fear being cast as the villain?
Or is it simply that our schedules do not allow us the freedom to become involved? Perhaps you and I are unwilling to act because we want to avoid drama, or pain. Maybe we don’t even see people who are hurting. Believe me, they are there. Do we stand back, hoping that someone more qualified will save the day? Or do we live like Jesus, whose deep love for each individual outweighs any potential fear?
The scriptures clearly say, “there is no fear in love. Perfect love drives out fear.”
Will love compel you and I to step in between the crowd and their “villain of the moment”? Are we willing to incur the wrath of the mob on behalf of the broken?
Are you willing to become the villain?
by_Scot Burbank
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