Those of you who know me know that I’m a very private person when it comes to the things that matter to me most. Please don’t misunderstand me to mean I consider myself secretive. In fact, it’s been one of my life goals to be as honest with myself as possible, and to share that honesty with others. If you want, I’ll gladly tell you every idea I have on any subject you like: love, politics, religion, science, art, whatever. I’ll happily discuss my own failings, fears, dreams, and fetishes for as long as you wish. I’m a very busy person, so I typically try to keep the information I volunteer short and to-the-point — but I’m quite pleased to oblige if more detail is required.

In my estimation, most information, like most knowledge, doesn’t mean much if it isn’t free to be shared. In this sense, I think the facts and feelings I have accumulated should be freely available to anyone. For my computer-savvy pals, these data are CC0.

But, when it comes to shared experiences and feelings belonging to me as well as someone else, I’m infinitely more private. For instance I rarely go on and on about how much I love my family. That’s a bond we share — and I feel awkward discussing, in a sense, “giving away,” something that’s not mine to give. My relationship with God often also fits into this category. The time I spend with Him is ours, not mine to trivialize and sully by blaring about it to everyone I meet. But, today I was reading Psalm 12, and got to thinking that the record of these deeply personal shared experiences is a big part of what makes reading the Bible so meaningful. So, I thought I would share one of these personal moments. Here’s a poem I drudged up from the “Private” folder in my computer. It’s supposed to be Christ who’s speaking:

I am blacksmith, not a jewler.
My strength is not precise.
My art is to bludgeon forms
Finess cannot suffice.

My eyes do not sparkle,
My tools are blunt and dull
But I am patient, old and large
And silent as the hills.

And I will singe your spirit,
And you may come to harm
My heart is my scarred hands
Coarse and brown, but firm.

My spirit is not hard.
It is earthen, warm and dark –
And unafraid of tears,
Being trod upon, or work.

My passion is my steadfastness
In seeing past the lies
In hearing the cry behind your scream
In trusting when it isn’t wise.

Stronger still than fickle hate
My love is bands of steel
I will bind myself to you
As long it be your will.

For many years, I have taken the following approach to my relationships:

1. Be friendly and polite whenever possible.
2. Avoid making enemies.

With extensive practice, I’ve become moderately competent at both of these skills. So, while there may be only a few people who view me as a close friend, no one (that I know of) actively views me as an enemy. And, up until recently, I’ve avoided putting anyone I know on the “terrible person” list. Even the people who like me the very least would likely not be averse to a quick chat if I saw them on the street and said hello.

The more I think about it, I think this is probably not a good thing. I don’t want to be remembered for being “nice.” I want to be remembered for being genuine. At the end of my life, I don’t want to look back and recall all the times when people liked or tolerated me because I treated them politely. I want to remember the times when others reached out to love me unconditionally. I guess what I’m saying is I need to start drawing on the kindness of others instead of only dishing it out. If I don’t take this chance, I’m going to end up feeling cheated by life and miss out on the potential to be blessed. So, I’m stepping out of the peaceful, safe, and ultimately crippling bubble of being content with relationships built solely on my “being nice” all the time. If I’m lucky, maybe there will still be a couple of people who will stick around even if they have to put some effort into the relationship.

Moreover, I’m removing my “no enemies” policy. Of course, I’m still going to treat people with respect and common decency, but I’m no longer going to make a mockery of friendship by maintaining a facade of goodwill toward people who continue to hurt me and those I care about. For those of you worrying about the implications of Matthew 5, I ask you to take a look at Psalm 11. God asks us to love as He loved — giving our enemies chance after chance after chance even when they don’t deserve it. But, love doesn’t mean being too unfeeling or stupid to know when “one more chance” isn’t going to make any difference.

// Since the epoch begins on Thursday.
char daysOfWeek[7][4] = {"Thu","Fri","Sat","Sun","Mon","Tue","Wed"};
int timestamp = 1328767657;
printf("Day of week %s\n", daysOfWeek[(timestamp/(24*3600))%7]);

Simple!