What is Wickedness?

A note from the editor:

What do we do when "supposed to" isn't bringing the happiness we've been promised? How do we react to others whom we perceive as "not doing what they're supposed to"? Do we create an "enemy" in our speech regarding those with whom we don't agree, and thus make them less relatable to us? How do we experience connection? Does God love us despite of, because of, or in our differences?

Once again I invite you to move in and read a story that differs from your own. One about curiosity and differences and wickedness. 

Story 4 of many. 

What is Wickedness?

            I took a sip of beer.  And I didn't like it.  Tasted like a fruit rollup made of rotten fruit.  So why did I drink the beer?  Because I was curious.  Curiosity killed the cat.  Will it kill my soul too?

* * *

            I wanted to write about feeling lonely, feeling like a failure, having no friends, crying myself to sleep, not being feminine enough for some people to appreciate me, feeling ugly and unappreciated and like no one cares.  I wanted to write about everything that has happened to me in my twenties.  But I cannot.  Well, I could, but it would take too long and who would want to read that?  Instead, I am writing about curiosity and differences and wickedness.  Because when I was young, I was taught that wickedness never was happiness.  And some people that I thought were wicked because they did not follow to the 'T' what I believed were a lot happier than me.  So I began to question what wickedness was and why I was judging these people to be wicked. The guys who I took my first sip of beer with had been and were still drinking a Great Pyramid of beer cans.  And they were happy.  And I sipped my beer with them and I was happy.

            I was raised to believe that partaking in alcoholic beverages is bad for you and I am not saying that it is not.  Alcohol can lead to a whole slurry of traumas and problems and darkened, twisted paths.  So if I took a sip, or maybe three, to really know the taste, was I wicked?  Was I breaking religious laws and becoming unclean? 

* * *

            Other people are not like me and I am not like other people.  I have never had a steady relationship with a man, I am not married, never graduated college and in the last three years have visited eight countries and lived in three.  My plans for the next two years involve me visiting at least two more countries and living in one more.  A lot of my friends are married, have graduated, are having kids, have settled down and figured out what they want to do with their lives.  And they seem happy.  I have not figured myself out nor have I followed, based on my friends, what the 'norm' is.  It's not that I would not like to have a partner or a husband to share my adventures with, or a steady job so that I wouldn't have to live day to day and week to week, it is just that it has not happened yet.  I am different.  Does that make me wicked? 

           

       wicked /ˈwɪkɪd/  - evil or morally wrong; intended to or capable of harming someone or something  (Oxford English Dictionary)

 

            Intended to or capable of harming someone.  Alcohol.  Drunk driving.  Capable of harming someone.  Water.  Driving.  And I could still go out and due to negligence, strike another car and harm someone.  Is it the drink that is wicked or the person? 

 

            different  /ˈdɪf(ə)r(ə)nt/ - not the same as another; distinct separate (OED)

            Or is the person just different than I am?  Is alcohol just a different drink than to what I drink?  Were the four men sitting and drinking a barrage of beers just different?  Am I just different?  Does God still love us both?  Will He still love me if I continue to travel and if I am different?  And if I am curious?

* * *

            My religion taught me never to partake of drugs or alcohol and to more or less stick to appropriated gender roles.  Men are men, women are women.  Women should marry men, men should marry women.  If we do what is right, God will bless us.  If we do what is wrong, God will punish us.  But as I look out into the world, I do not see this.  I do not see that conformity blesses every individual.  Diversity flourishes the heart. 

            In the past three years, I have been offered marijuana, jell-o shots (jell-o made with vodka instead of water), I have had beers spilled on my clothes and my shoes, seen people add drugs to their own drinks and I have loved every minute of these interactions.  Because these people cared about me.  They were not offering me drinks or drugs to hurt me, they were genuinely offering them to me because they enjoyed them and thought I might like a spin too.  And these nights where beer stuck to my clothes and skin and smoke followed me into my car were some of the best nights of my life. 

            Every single one of these experiences has happened at a rock concert: AC/DC, Guns n' Roses and U2.  Even though every single person in that crowd was different, our souls transcended above this earthly plane into an ethereal world where the music was our bones and our hearts beating in time and the sweat and the drugs and the drinks were merely our fleshy coverings. 

            People hear rock music and think of drugs and sex.  I hear rock music and think of freedom and the ability to all come together despite our differences.  Not because we are all wicked people bathing in more wickedness.  But because we are individuals knit together in our differences. 

            Curiosity into the realm of live music and what I have found there in people has stirred my soul, not crushed my soul.

            Is this jumping all over the place?  Is any of this making sense?

            We jump to judgment, we jump to condemn but we do not see the talent, the goodness, the richness of lives around us. 

            I saw a Drag Queen once who was so beautiful.  And who had on the most amazing black and white outfit.  I was at a bar when I saw her.  Are these points of wickedness or points of eye-opening understanding?  Because when I walked up to her and told her that I was in love with her ensemble, she told me that she herself had made it.  Have you ever tried sewing a cute little dress composed of different pieces of cloth?  I can barely sew in a bloody straight line, but maybe you are a sewing master.  If not a sewing genius, you will understand the profound respect I suddenly gained for this man who was dressed as a woman.  This man who was brave enough to dress as a woman in front of others, who was not ashamed, who was different and who was kind and who had sewing skills beyond my comprehension.  He was not wicked.  He was simply a he being a she for the night and she was kind and fun and talented. 

            Me?  I was at the bar because I was curious.  There were slews of other people around me drinking what may be to some people a wicked drink.  Did I have any problems there?  No.  In fact, one of the men who I had sipped my first beer with, actually came up and danced with me and the Drag Queen when they put music on for all to enjoy.  Is this all coming together?  Beer sipping and music and people who are different? 

            This is so hard for me to write and I do not know why.  Maybe because I do know people who would judge, who would say this is all wickedness.  Because they are too scared to step outside of their own bubble and see other parts of the world.  I am not saying that everyone has to travel around as I have done.  But I mean seeing different parts of their own world.  So you live in a privileged family in a nice house in a neighborhood where you can walk out safely at night.  Go to a homeless shelter.  Feed those and see those who are not like you.  Take a walk to a place where you would not usually go.  I do not care if it is a bar or the library.  Because there will be people there. 

            People you do not know, you may have never seen and they will be different from you.  Maybe they have piercings or tattoos or drink or smoke or cuss like a sailor.  Maybe they have a job that seems less than desirable or a lack of formal education.  Or maybe they are extremely successful, dress in Armani suits, drive a Mercedes Benz and own a summer home on Lake Tahoe.  Maybe they seem completely dull and a snooze but have actually been to all seven continents and yes, that includes Antarctica.  Who would ever know?  Would you ever know?  If you weren't willing to take your first sip of beer would you ever know that the taste was horrible? 

            I was taught that wickedness is not happiness.  Which means in the world, there are so many good and happy people.  People who are different.  But who are good. 

Behold I say unto you, difference is not wickedness.