The Boy and The World

There once was a boy who thought he could change the world. It was natural for him to think so as he had been assured of that for as long as he could remember. He was raised in a good family in a land of opportunity. He was told that he was special, that he was gifted, and that he had a strange and wonderful thing called potential.

He wasn’t sure exactly what potential meant, but it must be important because people kept mentioning it and assuring him that he had it. Sometimes it was a compliment, but other times it was barbed more like a criticism. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have potential, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice in the matter.

As he grew he began to realize that perhaps he really did have gifts. Perhaps he really was special and it wasn’t just the bias of his mother and father. What parent doesn’t think their child is special after all? Doesn’t every parent tell their child that they are the most beautiful and wonderful child in the world? And so the compliments of parents are always suspect. But as he grew and went to school he started to see that when graded on objective standards he really did have some gifts. He got good grades without really trying, and people seemed to look to him for leadership. He was a leader even when he tried not to lead. He was captain of the team and president of the school. It all came so easily, so effortlessly. Maybe, just maybe he really could change the world.

It was around this time that he started to notice the darker undercurrents, the subtle (and sometimes open) attacks. He was called names and ostracized by his peers. Perhaps they were just trying to drag him down to their level, perhaps it was because he was different. He also noticed that leaders, teachers, people in authority sometimes treated him badly for reasons beyond his comprehension. He didn’t like being the target of attacks and he wondered how to overcome, how to stop them, how to get away from them. He started to become angry and hard inside. He had to learn how to keep the attacks from hurting him.

Occasionally he would find leaders or others in authority who would notice him and be kind to him. They didn’t attack him. But then he started to realize that they too wanted something from him. They wanted to use him. Some even wanted to abuse him. They invited him in to their world. They honored him. They recruited him. They wanted him. Then, they used him for their own selfish ends and discarded him when they were done, or when he would no longer submit to being used. He tried to hide his potential, to not be noticed.

What about changing the world he wondered. What about the gifts and the abilities. What about his potential. Potential is a terrible burden to carry. You only have potential until you realize it. Potential is one of those things that is consumed in the use of it. Like a catalyst in a chemical reaction. Once it is used, it is gone. Those who change the world don’t have potential, they have realized their potential and it is no more.

And so the boy started to look for ways to use his potential. He looked for a master who would train him, who would help him to use his potential. He wanted to learn. He wanted to realize his potential. He wanted to change the world and to be a good steward of the resources that had been entrusted to him. He would gladly be consumed in the process if he could just be free to be who he was created to be.
He still knew somewhere inside that he was special, but over the years doubts had been sown in his heart, and bitter fruit was now ripening. He decided to try again. He knew there must be a good master, someone who could be trusted to lead and not to use, to free and not control, to empower and not wound. Finally, he found someone.

He found a man who talked the talk and by all appearances walked the walk. He decided to trust against trust. He decided to believe the unbelievable, that here at last was the good master one who would help him to realize his potential. They talked, they dreamed, and he was set free.

Then one day, they talked again. From the beginning of the conversation he could tell that something was wrong. Something in the tone of his voice was different. He tried to understand. He tried to submit. As the blows began to fall again, he didn’t even defend himself. He just let them come.

When it was over he picked himself up, wiped the blood from his face and tried to ignore the pain in his heart. He now understood. He was alone. There are no good masters. There are no trustworthy leaders. They all have their own agendas. Even those who recognized that he was special, that he had “potential” only wanted to use him. If he was ever going to change the world, if he was ever going to realize his potential, he would have to steer clear of those who would be his master.

Some have defined insanity as repeating the same action but expecting a different outcome every time. He realized now that he had been insane. He had repeatedly sought out leaders, masters to whom he could apprentice, and every one had wounded him. Perhaps the most painful thing was that they often blamed him for his own wounding and justified their actions with scripture, or by pointing to his weaknesses; weaknesses of which he was all too well aware. He was sick of being used and abused and then blamed for it. He was sick of being despised and rejected after having been used.

So, the boy was faced with a dilemma. “What to do? What to do?” If there were no good masters, then how do you move forward, how do you change the world? Was the answer to become a master himself? The question scared him because he had seen masters who used and abused and if that is what it means to lead then he wanted no part of it.

So, he walked out of town. He had to get away. He had to isolate himself, even if just for a moment. He couldn’t take the thought of another attack while he was so bruised and battered from the last one. He walked the bridge on the edge of town. It was over a deep chasm and he walked to the edge and stared into the abyss. Was this the answer? Was this the end of the line? Was there no chance to change the world? Was he wrong all along? Were they just delusions of grandeur? Is it possible then to be a leader, to be a master who serves? How could he be a master like that? Where could he find a master like that to learn from?

Then, he knew the answer. Jesus. Jesus is the master who was despised and rejected. Jesus stood like a sheep before His shearers and did not defend himself. Jesus accepted the authority that His Father gave Him and was unconcerned about the authority structures of His day. Jesus was the very model, the perfect model, maybe the only model, of a servant leader, a good shepherd. All others had let him down. All others would let him down. Only Jesus can be trusted. Only Jesus is the good shepherd.

As he stood on the bridge he heard footsteps behind him. He cringed at the thought of another attack. He stood still hoping that the approaching person would leave him alone. He grew apprehensive when rather than passing him by, he heard the intruder approaching him from behind. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a hand close on his shoulder. As he turned to face his accuser he found that before him stood the one good master. Jesus had come to meet him on the bridge. Jesus had tears in His eyes as he searched the face of the boy. They stood facing each other for some time. Neither spoke. After a while Jesus simply beckoned for the boy to follow Him. And so the boy followed the Master back towards town.