Seriously, do you? Do you really? You don’t have to answer out loud. Most people won’t. I know. I’ve spent most of my life being looked at strangely. Why? Because I don’t cave in. Most people who have put me down made caving in and doing what others expected into an art form.
I don’t much care if you think I’m ugly. I don’t think I am. I sure do not care if you think working hard is for fools. Shoot, if that’s the definition of a fool, I’m proud of it. As a kid, there were plenty of people my age running away from home. I never even considered it. I loved my family. I had friends who were fun to be with. Know what? They loved my family as well. They loved to be at my house.
There were always people more popular than me, but they never looked happy. Oh, they smiled. Didn’t quite make it to their eyes though. They were surrounded by people just like them. Dressed the same, ate the same food, never had an original thought. Me? I enjoyed being with people who had different experiences than I had. That’s how you learn. It’s how you grow. I didn’t have a crowd around me. Frankly I have always preferred quality over quantity.
Do you have a hero? I do. He spoke the truth just as I do. He had the guts to be who he was meant to be. He said what was on his mind even when it wasn’t the popular thing. I have always loved him. He was murdered. It was disgusting what they did.
He was killed for being kind. Turned out people loved that about him. You don’t have to live a lie. You don’t have to be a smart ass. You can live what’s truly in your heart. People who matter will love you anyway. People who don’t matter – why do you care about their opinion anyway?
So, like I said, my hero was murdered. They hung him. He didn’t die fast enough, so they stabbed him as well. I guess they thought this would end the challenge of dealing with this dude who refused to be like them. It didn’t. His legacy lives on. He lives on. His friends? The number keeps growing. Before his death he hung out with lepers, and thieves, and people who had low paying jobs and smelled bad. He and his friends didn’t eat in fancy places. They lived on borrowed bread and fish. They made it stretch to feed all who were hungry.
All but one of his closest friends were murdered too. He helped them turn their lives around and they traveled far and wide to help others do the same. Got ’em killed. All but one.
Still, I love him. Given those odds, what happened to his friends? I realize my life is not going to be easy. People might even read this and not dare make a comment. They might not have the guts to be “different.” It’s easier to go along with everyone else even if your heart craves something else.
If you meet my friend, tell him I love him, will you? I told you he lives on. If you take the chance, you might discover you love him too. Do you have the guts? Oh, his name? It’s Jesus.