You will chase the truth until the truth finally chases you.
This was me in my twenties. Without children, rent to pay, or a needy boyfriend to cater to, yet my twenties were the time when I carried the greatest burden of my life: bullying.
In school, I was never bullied, or if I was, I don’t remember. I excelled in reading, was always elected or appointed as a class leader, dormitory leader, or head of the school, excelled at sports, and had unmatched stage presence. With these qualities, school was enjoyable for me. In any part of the world, a child with these attributes will enjoy school more than those who only excel academically. So, I was never bullied, or if I was, I didn’t recognize it.
In my twenties, life took a turn that stunned me to the core. Surrounded by Christians my whole life, I was always in safe places, free from scandals and immersed in Jesus. There was only one horrific ordeal, which occurred almost daily: bullying. I was bullied in my twenties, in a way that was equivalent to hazing.
No matter the faith, environment, or organization, as long as there are people who are deeply insecure, bullying will always exist.
Why do people bully? They bully those who are different. I have always been different. Even among Christians, I never fit in with those who spent hours gossiping and tearing down others with slander. It made me lonely at times, but it created in me a strong sense of independence. I was often left out of parties and sleepovers because I didn’t fit in. I was different. In places where tribe mattered, I would be the only person from the Bamasaaba tribe and always the boldest in the crowd, standing up to people, sometimes Christians twice my age. They were stunned at this inexperienced child, who was not one of them, standing up to challenge them.
I wasn’t challenging them. I was just pointing out the truth. That is what made me a target for bullying. Unlike most people in their twenties, I was in pursuit of the truth. Deep down, I knew there would never be a substitute for God. In everything I did, I sought this truth with every fiber of my being. It was all that mattered. My family didn’t understand why I was dedicating my life to the things of God, and neither did many of my peers. I was bullied in subtle ways, treated like an outcast, and called a rebel. I chased the truth so hard that, like a chick, the shell finally cracked, and the truth began to chase me.
Twenty years later, I bump into some of my former bullies, and I tower over them. Because my foundation was built on what is solid and unbreakable, I see how they crumble. I walk toward them, and they still move with uncertainty, with an air of frivolity, vanity, and emptiness. They still rely on their dwindling fan bases and external validation for truth. Twenty years later, I tower over them, and they ask me how I remained unshakeable. When I tell them that sometimes difficult situations come my way and I feel like Job, they do not believe me. Yet I do face hardships that are unbearable. It will never show because that is not what defines me. I know who I am. That is what defeats any bully—meeting someone who is secure in who they are.
Deeply fragile, insecure, and co-dependent people are scared to stand alone in the crowd because they fear disappearing. They are afraid to face who they are and work on themselves because they feel worthless. These bullies are everywhere.
As a teenager, I didn’t face bullying. I faced it a lot in my twenties, and when I meet my former bullies today, they are miniature versions of their former selves. When anyone draws close to their so-called monster, the monster disappears. It’s like your eyes adjusting to the darkness.
Keep pursuing the truth when you are young, and you will enjoy life in colossal amounts when you are older. There is no substitute for the truth.