It's Hard to be Hated

Yesterday, this man announced his retirement. Part of his reason for retiring in a couple of years is that the experience has taken a toll on his family. I am sad for him, for the church, for the people he served. He was always such an example of gentleness and grace. Still is, actually.

Then I read the comments on the online version of the story. I shouldn't have. No wonder the guy is bailing out -- and what I read was mild, I'm sure, compared to the vile comments thrown at the guy for the last seven years. But it was still nasty. Being hated takes it's toll.

See, I've been hated. There's a situation in my life about which I have not written here (and won't begin to give details in any way now) and in that situation, I am hated. I've had anger and deep, deep negativity thrown at me for about 20 years now. And even though the anger and hatred really isn't about me, it affects me. It affects my family. (Kinda like how layoffs aren't personal, but they sure affect me personally.) Yes, I made mistakes in managing this situation, especially early on, but I don't think I deserve -- or my family deserves -- to be treated like this.

I try to keep my head up and stay positive when the nastiness gets thrown my way, or questions about the situation arise from various quarters, answering as honestly as I can without getting to emotional or specific. Actually I try not to think about it, or think about it as a simple circumstance of our life when it does bubble up. True, there hasn't been any kind of incident in several years, but it's still there, in so many subtle and not so subtle ways. As the holidays approach, the issue feels closer to the surface.

Anyway, the point is, as vastly different as the two situations are, I understand (as much as I can given the disparity), that it's hard to be hated. It's just plain hard.