The Bible Wasn’t Written With You in Mind
There was a man at a church I once attended who made people uncomfortable in a way no one quite knew how to talk about. Every Sunday, during the moment when everyone stood up to greet one another, he did the same thing. He didn’t shake hands. He didn’t nod politely. He leaned in and kissed people on the cheek. Men. Women. Teenagers. Elderly folks. No exceptions. It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t secretive. It was… earnest. Almost reverent. And somehow that made it harder to respond to. You could feel the room subtly shifting when he stood up. People suddenly remembered they needed to grab coffee or adjust a shoe or check on their kids. A few braced themselves and smiled politely. Nobody ever said anything out loud. And the thing was — he was genuinely kind. The kind of person who helped without being asked. The kind who remembered your name and showed up when life got heavy. There was no malice in him at all. One day, curiosity finally won. I asked him, gent...
