When I was in high school I ran with the popular crowd. But I was "popular" by association only. Nothing in my life pointed to popularity, success, or any other similarly related word.
In fact, I spent four years of my elementary school time attending a special speech class. Those "r" words just wouldn't come out the way they were supposed to. The stuttering didn't help either.
I developed a complex early on, convinced I was doomed to remain forever a dork. And then I got connected with Jesus. I was convinced He was my one-way ticket out of Dorkville.
My confidence soared. I began to understand that I am a beautiful creation of God Himself. I now had a true friend, a confidante that wouldn't betray me.
The more my relationship with Christ grew the more I realized that my ticket out of Dorkville had landed me right smack in the middle of Freak Town. That's right, I went from being a child dork to an adult freak. More specifically, a Jesus freak.
Labels are a peculiar phenomenon. Wear a particular clothing label and you're tagged as "rich." Wear something from Wal-Mart and you'll be labeled as "poor." It matters not that the designer label came from a resale shop and you only paid $3.00 for it because you could never actually afford to buy it new.
So when I'm called a "freak," I'm okay with that. Put "Jesus" in front of that label (as some have), and I'll wear that label proudly and consider it all a part of suffering for Christ's sake (Philippians 1:29).
My husband, by association (to Christ, not me), has been labeled a freak as well--among other things. His zeal for the Lord once led his grandmother of ninety-plus years to brand him a "religious fanatic."
Being a follower of Jesus Christ has taken us down some pretty remote roads, roads the rest of the world cannot fathom traveling, thus the subsequent "freak" label.
My husband and I first realized we were freaks when we announced our decision to homeschool our first-born who was quickly approaching Kindergarten age. "You mean you're not going to let her go to school? Ever?"
My first impulse was to respond to this concerned citizen with, "No, we're going to hide her away from society in seclusion and raise her as the village idiot." Instead, I ever so deliberately told her the truth: "God told us to."
Freak. Yes, that was the defining moment, the moment that my husband and I first realized we were living in Freak Town, population: 2.
The you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me looks and remarks have continued ever since. Giving when we have nothing to give. Freak. Daring to administer discipline as the Bible prescribes. Freak. No cable, Dish Network, or Direct TV. Freak. Freak. Freak.
Our latest freak slapping came as the result of our decision to adopt. "Why would you want to do that?" I'd like to just say, "Because we're freaks, that's why." But I know our latest adventure is too good an opportunity to pass up. Our God-led decision to adopt is an awesome testimony of God's presence in our lives, of His command to care for the orphans, of His love for each one of us.
I can't wait to see what God will have us do next that will lead to such a label. So go ahead, call me a "freak"--just don't leave out the "Jesus" part.
