When I was in elementary school, a boy I will call “Joe” was the playground bully.  I learned early on to steer clear of Joe.  Cross him, and he was liable to beat you up.  He was not quite to the level of stealing your lunch money, but I never wanted to give him the chance.   

It seemed like every grade created a bully.  They were usually the tough guys, not book smart, but ready to assert their power to get their way, especially when the teacher’s back was turned.  As we progressed through middle school and high school, some of the bullies got left behind; others got more sophisticated in their bullying.  High school was the age of cliques and put-downs.   

I regret to say I was not innocent in this regard.  I obtained some leadership roles in high school that required me to enforce discipline with other students.  Because I had the backing of the teacher, I could yell at other students, make them run laps, even make them cut their hair.  I am sure that some of my fellow students look back at their high school days and remember me as the bully. 

Long removed from those days, I ponder what made me abuse my positions of power.  Part of it was my own insecurity.  I was afraid people would not do what I wanted them to do, so I yelled.  I thought the force of voice and personality could bluff people into backing down.  It worked most of the time.  I think I bullied people in part because I felt in control.  To be in control is a feeling of power, and power can go to your head.  I liked being in charge.  It was validating. 

As I matured, I realized bullying was not the way of Jesus.  Jesus never bullied people into believing; he never used his unlimited power to get his way.  He invited people to follow him; he did not intimidate people to be his disciples.   

When I began to work in church, I was surprised to find bullies.  In my second church, a couple of bullies were deacons.  They had a way of putting you on the spot with comments like, “I only see you working one hour a week, preacher.  I thought we were paying you for forty hours of work.”  In church, I also discovered women could be bullies, too.  I remember a sweet older woman who informed me that she would teach Vacation Bible School the way she had done it for fifty years.  If I made her follow the book, she would leave the church and let everyone know I was the reason she left.  One bully I remember informed me in front of his class that he worked harder preparing his Sunday School lesson than I did preparing my sermon. 

One day, when I was reading the Sermon on the Mount, I was struck by Jesus’ words: “Love your enemies; do good to those who persecute you.”  It dawned on me Jesus was talking about the bullies.  Since that truth convicted me, I have tried, not always successfully, to love the bullies in my life.  I listen to them, try to understand them.  I pray for them.  Some days loving my enemies is the hardest thing Jesus asks me to do. 

What Jesus invites me to do is stop competing.  Healthy relationships are not based on who finishes first.  He reminds me, “’Vengeance is mine,’ says the LORD.”  God gets the final say about a person’s life, not me. 

This reminds me to be grateful because I have been a bully, too.  But because I decided long ago to ask for forgiveness of all my sins, past and present, and committed to follow Jesus, the word over my life is “Forgiven.”  Every bully can be forgiven; every bully can have a new life.  All that is required is the hardest thing for a bully to do: Admit they are powerless over sin, they need forgiveness and change, and give their life to Jesus. 

Part of what convinces me that we are now in a post-Christian culture is the rise of the bullies.  Twitter makes it easy to take a swipe at someone.  From politicians to media personalities, it seems easier for bullies to emerge, ignore the truth, tell lies, and try to control people.  This is why I believe the world needs the way of Jesus: Love your enemies.  Do good to those who persecute you.  Leave vengeance up to God.  Embrace forgiveness.  It is the better way to live.