My dear friend

What did it feel like?

I imagine you felt powerful because of the way you had a specific and obvious sway over people. And these people changed their behaviors, which in turn changed the occurrence of events. And soon enough – everything was different because of you.

If only it had been different in a good way.

Did you feel satisfied when you saw justice accomplished, correctness established and accuracy enshrined? You held everyone else to the exact standard of preciseness that you voluntarily prescribed for yourself. How wonderful it must have been to witness your personal definitions of “right” and “wrong” being embraced by those around you. You relished their eager looks of earnest yearning for your approval. Am I doing it right? Is this what you meant? And a slight nod of your head provokes tears of relief and floods their pitiful faces with pleasure.

Your idea of leniency was scrubbing the floor behind someone when they missed a dirty spot. Perfection would have demanded that you instruct them to clean it again. Your concept of grace was allowing someone to sit on your couch in your home. After all, they did not deserve an invitation.

So popcorn crumbs on the couch or honey smear in the kitchen cabinets was a clear indication that your goodness had been trampled upon. Your distribution of liberty was obviously not being respected by others. It was time to pull in the reigns. When people forget that everything they have is due to their subordinate position to you, a righteous slap in the face of truth will bring back their harsh reality.

Did you know that it was all fake? That every conversation we exchanged was bridled with fear. I was scared of you, and I had very good reasons to be.

I would never come before your folded towels or bleached linens. My person would never contain as much value as a correctly made bed. And it was crystal clear that my importance as a human being was negated by the fact that my everyday life was messy, complicated, and emotional. There was no relationship – only sustained interaction because of your “Christian” charity.

I reject you. I fight the way you made me feel insignificant, incompetent and undeserving. I rebel against the idea that the entirety of my self-worth is derived from orderly appearances.

My life is messy, and I love it. My God is forgiving, and I cherish him. I delight in the minutes of breath entrusted to me, clinging to the moments of joy I briefly experience as a molecular representation of the galaxy of brilliant eternity that will be the summation of my life.

And I do this, my dear friend, in spite of you.