Content with being held in contempt by the world

I like nice. I like people to like me, not only my family and friends but even the waitress at Dunkin’ Donuts. I feel bad when a relationship with a fellow motorist is acrimonious, though it be only a five-second relationship and he has forgotten our unpleasantness by the next traffic light.

But I am starting to see that I had better get used to not being liked, because this is the way the wind is blowing these days. Recently I accompanied a friend (who doesn’t seem to care so much about being liked) to a Planned Parenthood facility in Philadelphia. She said it was “40 Days for Life” across the country, and people who cared about the lives of babies were keeping a round-the-clock prayer vigil at abortion centers. She asked me to come and do her watch with her from 3 to 4.

When we arrived at 11th and Locust streets, the very heart of the city, the first miracle was that we found a parking space easily—Jill never seemed to doubt we would. We walked around the corner to find three men standing on the sidewalk in front of a staid-looking brick building recessed from the street, with a little apron of grass on which two park benches beckoned sweetly from behind wrought iron gates. Jill said I must not sit on those benches or even cross the threshold from the sidewalk lest I be evicted for trespassing.

Frank and his friends were from the Catholic Church. Frank was on his knees on a good old-fashioned Catholic kneeler, and praying out loud as pedestrians passed. Jill was expertly sizing up passersby to discern which women were going to turn into the Planned Parenthood yard versus those who were just walking along the street. She told me that some would pretend to be moving on and would suddenly make a sharp turn to escape an encounter. Jill approached single girls and girls accompanied by older women. She smiled and said, “May I give you some information?”

One woman quickened her step when she saw us and the religious sandwich board and the kneeler and box of pamphlets, and I heard her say, “Judgmental @^#%@^%!” as she passed. I wanted to tell her that we were not judging anyone but were there to help, but she did not slacken her gait enough for me to try.

By the end of our hour I felt like I would be OK with not being liked. It isn’t the end of the world, you know. In fact, the fear of it proved worse than the reality, I found. In any case, the Lord commands this godly resignation to be hated by the world:

“… Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God” (James 4:4, ESV).

Let’s give it up, this lust for friendship with the world. If someone loves us, good. If someone hates us, fine. Like the Apostle Paul, let us now learn to be content in want and plenty, and with being loved or being treated with contempt.

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