People Pleaser

I'm a people pleaser.

I've spent my life bending over backwards to entertain anyone who would pay attention, silently begging, "Please love me! Please love me!"

This has been a source of great disappointment in my life.

I grew up in an international Christian organization known as The Salvation Army (you may have heard of it). My father, now retired, was an ordained minister in the organization and was a bit of a maverick. He broke barriers and rocked the boat on a regular basis. As such, he made enemies.

By association, his enemies became my enemies. Not on my part, but on theirs. Those who were threatened by his success figured if they couldn't destroy his reputation, his children were the next best thing. (and yes, I did say this was a CHURCH organization. Surprise, surprise!)

During the summer of my 15th year, I was on my way to a youth conference and was caught by airport security with my knife collection in my carry-on bag (long story... I was coming from summer camp and forgot they were in there). By the time I had reached the conference, the aforementioned "haters" had gotten hold of the "incident" and twisted it (via the gossip network) into "Noland's kid got caught with drugs and alcohol and the only reason he's not been sent home is because of his father."

I was henceforth known to the international church community as "the drug addicted drug dealer whom their children should avoid."

I wish I was making this up.

Fast-forward 20 years later: After decades of estrangement, I returned to the fold and began attending a Salvation Army church. There was a woman named Linda who was an ordained minister of the church (not the pastor) who also attended this particular parish.

I knew Linda from afar, but never really had any contact with her, other than the occasional polite "hello" in passing. To be clear, she knew my parents very well, and knew who I was, but she and I never had occasion to connect on any significant level.

One Sunday AM, the pastor was preaching on "amends." He pointed to a tray of bread that lay in front of the pulpit and invited members to tear a piece of bread off and offer it to someone in the congregation to whom they felt they owed an amends.

I sat quietly, as I was relatively new in this particular parish and hadn't had the opportunity to interact with many of the members, much less develop resentments.

Moments later, I felt the presence of someone standing next to me in the aisle. I looked up and there was Linda, standing there with a piece of broken bread extended toward me.

"I'd like to apologize." She said. "I've wrongly judged you since your return and I would like to ask your forgiveness."

I was floored. Judged me? I've never even SPOKEN to this woman! How could she have judged me on any level???

Not only did I forgive her, I greatly admired her courage and the fortitude of honesty she displayed. Her amends were public, unflinching, and warmly received.

To be clear, she was not the first (nor last) to admit implicit biases toward me, but hers was the first to really ring a bell in my brain... "Wait, I've never wronged this woman in any way, yet she managed to find reasons to dislike me? Why?"

I've always been a person who gives people an opportunity to be loved. I've never disliked another human unless they made it clear they wanted me as an enemy. Sadly, there are many, many people out there who are looking for reasons to hate, without cause, anyone whom they might perceive as a threat, with or without predication. And no, the church is not immune to such biases (in fact, I dare say they're much more prone in many instances).

It was Linda's amends that woke me up to the reality that people, as a whole, are broken, frightened, and flawed. 

It's not my job to please everybody.

I CAN'T please everybody.

All I can do is be the best person I can be, 

live a life that is holy (I fail often at this),

be kind to everybody (not as easy as it sounds),

be a little bit better today than I was yesterday,

and realize that there will be people who will still hate me for being the best me I can be, because it shines a light on their own shortcomings.

"Only fools inherit other people's enemies as some sort of weird loyalty." In my lifetime, I've made a lot of enemies who were fools.