In the five years since I started my blog, I have met with much offense. It seems the in the cyberworld, offense is proudly displayed. Perhaps, if someone had warned me, I would’ve never posted a word.
Simultaneously, I know, I would not be in the blessed position I now find myself, if it weren’t for my naivety. My first viral post left me thrilled with all the possibilities of notoriety.
The first day.
By the second, third, and fourth day, I was a basket case. The trolls came calling, and I was undone by the lashings. I would like to think that I am not jaded, but I did have to get some “thicker skin.” I quickly learned there was no point in arguing. And I rested in the fact, a few words, whether penned or received by me, do not define the totality of me.
The rest I had to let go.
Recently I posted, what I thought was a humorous exchange between my six-year-old son, Charlie, and me.
Charlie: Mom, can I ask youm sumthun?
Me: Always.
Charlie: can boys turn into ballerinas?
Me: yes, boys can be ballerinas.
Charlie: oh man… I’m sure hopin dat doesn’t happen to me.
The quirky banter brought me, and several readers a good laugh. Then came the hate.
Ballerinas were furious. Those that thought I was being “sexist” were enraged. I toiled with the idea of taking the post down, ditching the whole online media biz, again.
I tried to compose my rebuttal. “I was a ballerina…” and “He isn’t a sexist? He is a child?”
But I was quickly convicted, some battles are not mine to fight.
Some offensese are not the totality of the offended.
Some accusations are harshest when the offended chooses to be offended.
Offense, moral, cultural or otherwise, is not authored by He who does not offend.
Christ in me, the greatest mystery, the hope of glory, doesn’t always mean that my humanness doesn’t bust through, making a formidable appearance. I offend, and often, I am offended. Still, He loves. Still, He protects, restores, and writes new conviction and motivation on my heart, which equips me with eyes to see less of the world, and more of Him.
The calling to be His hands and feet is often wasted on me. Other days it seems too much to ask. But the rest of the time, I am anxious for Him to guide me in ways of wisdom, patience, forgiveness, and love. Furthermore, I am most grateful He chose to walk the earth as human. He knows what it is like to be me, to be us.
He understands persecution, injustice, malice, betrayal, weariness, loneliness, and being misquoted and misunderstood.
I propose the greatest difference between Him and us, is that even though He knew all those trials, He died for us anyway.
Even the trolls.
Live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you. – 2 Corinthians 13:11b
by Jami Amerine
Jami Amerine is an author, speaker, artist, wife, and mom. She and her husband, Justin live in Houston, Texas and have six children. She holds a Master’s of Education in Counseling and Human Development. Jami and Justin are advocates for foster care and adoption. Jami blogs at sacredgroundstickyfloors.com.
