Originally published FEBRUARY 2016, Revised & Updated JULY 10, 2020
At age 14 I entered into my final year of little league baseball. I worked extremely hard, spending hours each week in the batting cage and fielding ground balls. My hard work paid off. I ended the season with a .533 batting average and made the All-Star Team with a group of guys that would eventually go on to win their High School (3A) State Championship. I was excited. I started All-Star practice off by hitting the ball very well, and the coach said if I kept it up I’d be in the starting line-up.
Then things went south, in a bad way. I was an outsider, driving in from a smaller “country” town. I hadn’t grown up with these city boys, didn’t attend school with them, and now I found myself competing with one of them for the starting first base position. I was bullied, to say the least. The ring leader was a kid named Adam. For whatever reason, he despised me. During practice he would throw baseballs at me when I wasn’t looking. Sometimes I’d get drilled right in the back, and other times, near misses would whiz right over my head or just past my ear. I began to dread practice and lived in constant anxiety of when the next ball might nail me in the head. I also bought a used bat from one of the kids, which, unbeknownst to me, was “loaded” with tennis balls (Supposedly, to help you hit the ball further, but against regulation). One day in practice, I discovered Adam and some others banging my bat against a fence post, trying to remove the cap, in order to expose me to the coach and have me banned from the team. When that didn’t work, they tried other tactics. When it was my turn to field throws at first base, I can still remember my teammates whispering among themselves, just loud enough so I could hear, “throw it in the dirt.” And they did, time and time again. Needless to say, my shins took quite a beating, trying to scoop low throw after low throw out of the dirt. I spent that All-Star season sitting on the bench, rarely seeing the field, and I couldn’t wait to go home and never return to that “bully” pen again. Nobody stood up for me & I didn’t stand up for myself.
At 33, I’ve come to realize that some bullies never grow up, they just get older and more sophisticated in their bullying. A year after crashing and burning in international ministry, I entered a church-planting residency in Houston. It was hard not to feel like I was back in little league baseball. Once again, I was an outsider trying to find my place. Thankfully, I was “hitting the ball well.” Three months in, I was preaching regularly, overseeing “small group” leaders, and even asked to draft church documents. Members affirmed my leadership, and asked me when I was preaching again. To my dismay, the pastor began to view me as his competition. Things went south fast. This pastor employed one underhanded move after another to push me out. He tried to cut my already meager salary by half! He forced me to move out of church housing above his office (because he didn’t want to see me), and tried to make me cover an expensive lease on a new place. When I told him I couldn’t afford these changes, his response was, “Well then I guess you’ll just have to get out there and make more money!” At the time, I was already working a second job, as a valet, (running sprints on concrete, with a torn meniscus), just so I could afford to stay in the program. I couldn’t even afford health care to treat my knee.
This time, I stood up for myself. I requested a meeting, where I informed this pastor that a salary cut would put him in breach of contract. He backed down, saying he had “misspoken.” At that point, he proceeded to verbally berate me; provoking, shaming, and demeaning me with a number of cheap shots; referring to me as a “boy.” Before the meeting ended, he told me that if I couldn’t ‘sync up” with what he was doing, then maybe I should leave. In hindsight, that’s generally a good time to leave. But I stayed on, and tried to work things out. The next three months proved to be a farce. This pastor, who was supposed to be training & eventually planting me, didn’t invest another second into our relationship. He effectively sat me on the bench, and had one of the older men in the church keep tabs on me, like a spy. This man ingratiated himself to me, took me out to eat, and pretended to be someone who cared. At one point, he flat out told me, “I probably would have punched (the pastor) in his face if he treated me the way I’ve seen him treat you!” When I confided in him that I had a new job prospect, (nothing solid) he reported it immediately to the pastor, and at the next staff meeting, the pastor put me on the spot, announcing to all the staff, “Brandon, I understand you have some news to share with everyone.” So, I resigned. He wasted no time announcing, in church, that Sunday (my last) that my residency had been a success, (in what way?) and that they looked forward to supporting me in my future ministry endeavors. The next day I borrowed gas money from a friend so I could move home, jobless, to my parents’ house. I brought my complaint to the leaders in that church, but it fell on deaf ears. Nobody stood up for me.
Later that year (2015), I tried to get back in the game by attended an Acts 29 church planting conference. During a Q & A session, I raised my hand and asked one of the big-wigs, “How would you approach training an unmarried pastor differently than a married pastor?” With a laugh, he retorted, “I’d tell him to go get married first!” Again, this past year (2016), I applied for another church-planting residency in Houston. When I inquired as to why I was not selected, for the second year in a row, the response was, “…our team is looking more at married guys…” Having grown up in the home of a pastor, and worked in vocational ministry since age 19, the message is clear, single men are the “scrubs” of ministry. Yes, I must be back in little league baseball, and because I’m not from here, and because I don’t fit the mold, there is seemingly not a place on the team for me.
I meet people all the time who have been bullied or rejected, by both the church and the world. They’re still hurting and grieving from it, as I am. It might be tempting to pick up the bat and fight back, but this isn’t the way to find your place on the team.
Our solace needs to come from Christ. The scriptures tell us in John 1:11 that “He came unto his own, but his own people did not receive him.” Jesus was an outsider, too, and he didn’t fit the mold, either. Consequently, he was rejected, bullied, and eventually crucified. We learn from Christ that “turning the other cheek” is not a sign of weakness, but rather a sign of strength. We realize that, because Christ defeated his enemies on the cross, we too can overcome evil with good. Romans 12:17-20 says, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”
If you’re being bullied, speak up. Reach out. But don’t return evil for evil. When we trust that God “has our back” we are free to love our enemies, and we can face our bullies without fear, anger, or retaliation, because Jesus promises to stand up for us! Have you been bullied? Have you trusted in Christ to be your Savior? He’s got a place on the team for you; a place where you’ll be safe, valued, and loved! Find a local church family that (imperfectly) emulates him, and get back in the game!
If you’re a young man, called to pastoral ministry, give me a shout! I’d love to meet you!