What You Hate Most In Others

“You hate most in others what you hate most in yourself,” Mr. Baxter said, as he looked around my seventh-grade class. Then he focused his gaze on one of my fellow students in particular. She knew those words were meant for her.

I saw her tense up. She did not take his words kindly. 

Why? Because instead of allowing for her to judge another pupil with impunity, Mr. Baxter turned the tables and pushed her into a moment of honest (and most likely scathing) self-reflection. 

You hate most in others what you hate most in yourself. Ouch. 

I don’t quite remember what it was that my classmate was upset about, or what aspect of her personality Mr. Baxter’s words called her to give consideration to, but for me, the quote stuck. In fact, it has become a kind of “life axiom.” 

Legitimate self-reflection can be hard. It can hurt. It can burn our egos and slight our psyches. In the end, however, using axioms like Mr. Baxter’s can help us have a principled view of ourselves and a more grace-filled view of the world.

Courage in the Wilderness

My feet were dragging across a rocky singletrack trail in the Superstition Wilderness east of Phoenix. It was nearly 90 degrees outside and I was 43 miles into a 52.4 mile run—a double marathon. The entire right side of my body was cramping, my legs were sapped of energy, and I could feel my heart rate climbing like a mountain goat up a scree field.

I hurt. I hurt bad. I was in what ultrarunners call the “pain cave,” and I was trying to claw my way out.

As deep as I was in that abyss of agony, it was about to get worse. Tired from the accumulated miles and stress of the heat, my legs faltered and my toe caught a rock. I tripped, face-planting into the dirt, crags, and cacti below.

It was then that I faced a choice: to pick up my sorry, spasming body and continue on — or, to slither into the scant shade provided by a lonely piñon pine and hope that a hiker or runner would find me before I shriveled up into dust, disappointment, and despair.

That moment called for courage, and I didn’t know if I had any to summon.

Religion has a serious, systemic, abuse problem.

One time, I wrote a letter to Pope Francis. I know…ridiculous.

What wasn’t ridiculous was the message I wrote to him: that before he goes off to save the climate and solve the refugee crisis and bring peace to the Middle East, he first needs to take care of priority number one—addressing sexual abuse in his church.

The Catholic Church has gotten the bad rap of being the sole proprietor of sexual abuse within religious institutions. But, as James Nolan wrote for VICE a couple years ago, “Modern history has been riddled with revelations of religious child abuse.” From New Religious Movements to Buddhists, Muslim madrassas to Mormon schools, Hindu gurus to Methodist ministers, it seems that religion has a serious, systemic, abuse problem.

What are we going to do about it? 

An open conversation about life, faith, & society

Let's talk about stuff. Stuff like a pastor getting caught at counseling. About violence. About being overwhelmed in a digital world. About life, faith, and Jesus. Let's talk. 

That's what THRED is about. As the folks at THRED explain, the aim of this new website is that everyone's perspectives and experiences are valid. Each and everyone's thoughts on tough topics matter. THRED believes that we can learn through dialogue and that the hardest topics should be talked about more, not less.

And so, I've joined the THRED writing team and wrote on several topics for them -- specifically those mentioned above. The posts are aimed at a broad audience. While influenced by my faith and personal experiences, they are meant for everyone. I invite you to check out the THRED site and find my work on counseling, digital tech, and more!