Would You Say This to My Face?

There’s a rule in the writing world that says write when you’re feeling happy, confused, sad, or shocked. But never when you’re angry.

I’m going to break that rule today.

Over the past year I’ve been more intentional about showing up on social media, to share encouragement for women in the midlife trenches. And the more I post, the more people follow, and the more people follow, the nastier they get.

Not all of them, but some. A few. Enough to make me wonder what the HECK is wrong with human beings these days.

Because these people don’t just complain; they attack.

They attack my intentions, my theology, my parenting, even my forehead (one comment said “nice receiving hairline” and it took all my Christian goodwill not to correct their spelling). 

And yes, I know, social media is built for this kind of cowardice. It’s a petri dish for spineless grumps hiding behind avatars, spouting things they’d never say to a real person’s face. Never mind that I am a real person, as are so many other authors and speakers on Instagram.

But that’s not why I’m irked. I’m a big girl and I can handle trolls. The comments themselves don’t bruise my feelings.

The heart behind them does.

Because most of the nasty comments? They come from fellow Christians.

And THAT should NOT be normal.

“You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other. So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” (Galatians 5:13–16)

If we’re going to be people who reflect Jesus in the world, we need to show love to others. And of course sometimes love is tough—speaking up, pointing out misguided thinking, holding someone accountable. Those “let me tell you where you’re wrong here” comments we see on social media are far more appropriate for the kitchen table, with a mug of coffee and a compassionate friend whose correction comes from a place of familiarity and care for our well-being.

But more often, both publicly and privately, love ought to look like simple kindness. Thinking twice before we snap. Validating a person’s heartache before telling them to buck up. And extending the same grace to another human being that God extends to us daily.

And I wonder—am I doing that?

Are you?

The real anger that bubbles up inside me isn’t toward the trolls, or even the grumpy Christians, but for myself, for this broken world in which it’s possible for me to call the kettle black and get my nose bent out of shape over a stupid choice somebody else made that I’m just as capable of making myself.

It’s so much easier to point fingers at the “nasty people” than it is to examine our own hearts.

So I’m going to start viewing any unkind commentary as a reminder that my own heart is easily triggered, too—and chalk up those “receiving hairlines” as an example of what NOT to do with my freedom in Christ.

Will you join me? Because we can follow Jesus, know the Word, and still treat others like dirt. It’s a choice we make, and God is watching. The wise woman puts her knowledge into practice (James 1:22), so that she doesn’t just love the Lord—she looks like Him, too.