Not Meant for Me
A few years ago, my husband came home from the gas station with a harrowing tale. When he exited the connected convenience store, occupants from two cars began shooting at one another in the parking lot. He was too far from the door to run back inside and halfway to his car.
“What did you do?” I asked, knowing that he would say that he got down flat to wait for the melee to end. But he didn’t.
“I kept walking to the car.”
I knew that this wasn’t some tale of faux bravado. We have been a couple since we were teenagers. I know him. I even know what joke he is going to tell simply by the squint of his eye or the curl of his mouth. This really happened. His reaction was so typical of him.
And so was mine. I immediately launched into a lecture about the dangers of going to that particular gas station. I bawled him out, telling him, “You’re big; not bulletproof!” I reminded him about being a father and husband and how our family needs and loves him. I scolded him about the foolishness of not at least running to the car.
When I paused to take a breath to fuel the rest of my fearful tirade, he said, “Those bullets weren’t meant for me.”
The utter absurdity of his response stunned me. My eyes grew wide in disbelief as I wondered if the trauma of bullets whizzing by had knocked something loose in his brain. He sat down on the chair in our bedroom and picked up his game controller like he had every night, like his life wasn’t just hanging in the balance less than 10 minutes beforehand. Sensing my unease, he looked over his left shoulder directly into my eyes and repeated, “Those bullets weren’t meant for me.”
My husband’s no fool. He knows that every day people who are not intended targets of gun violence die. He doesn’t take unnecessary risks. He simply refuses to be ruled by fear.
“I wish I had that characteristic,” I confessed to him last night as we sat in the garage avoiding the end of our date night. “I am working really hard to flip my negative self talk.”
“95% of what I say to myself is positive.” Again, I know him, but most importantly, I live with him, and I hear him talking aloud to himself ALL.THE.TIME.
“I know,” I responded, dripping with sarcasm.
My husband explained that because he played football he had to learn to counter the negativity from the fans of the opposing teams.
“Before the game starts, they are in the stands booing you, calling out your number and your name, shouting down to you how much you suck. ‘Just wait. You’re going to remember me!'” He laughed, reliving the memory of his glory days on the field. I remembered stories about the substandard helmets, gross locker room floor, and sporadically functioning showers at his high school. I remembered the racist comments his team endured when facing the well-funded, well-equipped all white teams. And I remembered his mom working two full time jobs, the gangs trying to recruit him, and the police attention for being too big and too black to be doing something positive. “You don’t have room for negative self talk with all that coming at you.”
He leaned back and smiled in nostalgia: “You see that! What’s my number! Who sucks now!” I laughed with him and held his hand tighter, hoping that whatever that was in him would rub off on me.
“I’m the best, Babe!” He said, loving me more then with his eyes than he did when he first loved me. “I don’t care what it is I am doing or up against. I know I’m amazing. And I don’t care what anybody else thinks or says or does.” It was more pep talk than personal revelation.
And I saw him in my mind’s eye with that bag of Ruffles and a ginger ale when gun fire erupted on both sides of him: “Those bullets aren’t meant for me.”
Friend, today I pray that you remember that those bullets of negativity, self-doubt, fear, and shame are not meant for you. I pray that you stand firm in your awesomeness and speak life into yourself, even if no one else does. Remember that before you even knew who you were, before your parents called you by name, God purposed you for greatness in His kingdom. Walk tall in your gifting. Walk tall in your assignment. Walk tall toward your destiny.
And the angel of the Lord appeared to him and said to him, “The Lord is with you, valiant warrior.” (Judges 6:12, NASB)
Memos from the Middle 