I wrote and I write and sometimes it is because I do not like to speak, but I spoke. I wanted to shake his freakin shoulders and cry, “YOU MORON!” But it was my college professor and it would probably not reflect well on my grade.
This was a long time ago, well, only twelve years ago, but it seems much longer than that…a long time ago, “Things” did not happen as much then, as they do today. And “things” did surprise me then, they don’t much anymore.
But we are told that we are intolerable, hateful, and racist if we stand up and voice our opinions. Once I was even told that I still believe the world is flat. I am not sure where that came from. (I don’t.) But I am quite sure it was meant to be an insult.
But here I am talking about the then. And I sat in a large classroom of a credit that was required. Cultural Diversity. The class should have been renamed, “I Hate Christians” because that more closely followed the topic.
And me, being a Christian, found that rather uncomfortable. I wish I could go back and say what I would want to say now. …But perhaps it is best that I don’t because I do believe that God said what he wanted to say then.
The professor told us how awful missionaries are and how wonderful every religion is except christianity and how great and good all people are except for christians and how there is no sin and nothing is wrong it is just perspective and the only thing that is wrong is saying something is wrong. And there are no commas because that is how he spoke it.
And then he thought he had delivered the message and hammered the nail into the coffin of Christianity and he thought we were all indoctrinated and would share in his love of evil, or people that had misconstrued reputations, “Let’s discuss some of the great qualities of Hitler. What are some of the good things he did?”
My hand shot up because I couldn’t take this bs anymore and I spoke what little truth was ever spoken between those four walls:
“Oh, yes, you…what is something good that Hitler did?”
“HE KILLED HIMSELF!”
And I do believe that in public schools, in colleges and universities, in government buildings, lobbying groups, media, television, and voices shouting out everywhere are yelling, “There is no wrong, except to be a Christian.”
But my hand is shooting up and I do not care anymore if it is uncool to speak up (because I do not care about my cool status anymore) and I do not care if you label me as racist for my thoughts (because Ben Carson has my vote. And I think the whole meaning of that word has been lost.) and I do not care if you shout that I hate science (because I heart it and I have a personal relationship with the Crestor of it all) and say what you want, but this voice, be it one, will stand up in the sea of sitting students and glaring stares and the professor may laugh and scoff at me, but there is God that I answer to, he flows through my veins and he is the beat of my heart. This body is a follower of Jesus. My mouth still speaks and my body still writes and I have a message to share.
I spoke. I write.