Unlovable

You know, I'm a firm believer in the notion that everything happens for a reason. I've been sitting on this title, this concept for the past couple of days now...

Unlovable. That's not exactly a word that you hear every day; it's a word with some depth to it. Though it doesn't seem entirely awful at first, when you consider what it takes to not only be unloved--but unlovable... That really means something. This word first came to me during a late night coffeehouse service at Greater Exodus Baptist Church, right there off of Broad and Ridge in North Philly.

Greater Exodus Baptist Church, Broad and Ridge, Philadelphia, PA

After some awesome songs, the likes of which I haven't exactly heard from a Young Adult Ministry, there was a speaker to wrap the night up. Now, allow me to confess: if I'm not in the mood to be preached to, at, or whatever preposition you want to use, I simply tune out. Seriously, I go to another place almost, lost in thought. Yet what I did pick up on was a reference to Romans 5, as well as a challenge. I don't remember what the minister's exact wording was, but what I took away from it was something like "Have you ever known anyone who was absolutely unlovable?" Like, no matter how hard you try, there's just something that this person does, or even something about who they are that just seems to prevent you from loving them, try as you might?

- - -

His name is three fights in two days. Some call him constant disrespect. He also goes by the name of loud mouthed, dim witted, short tempered, whiny, hard headed, and foul mouthed. But this student, this 16 year old freshman who has been in our program since the beginning, causing problems since his arrival, is he "unlovable"? We've all had our moments with this child. My two program assistants, our hip hop dance instructors, our security designee and my part time group leader. His voice has a pitch to it that makes your skin crawl. There's no talking to him; everything devolves into a lecture amidst his shifts and groans, his eye rolling, teeth sucking, and hardly muffled cursing and indignation. The school has handed out suspensions to this child on a bi-weekly basis. Seriously, 10 days here, 5 days there. Every time he was suspended, you knew it was time for another pay check. It was sadly consistent, and it was always over nonsense.

And oh the fights he's started. Literally, one this past Friday, and two today. Not to mention the countless altercations his viciously whiny, ever flapping mouth has caused throughout the school year. 

"He has no hands," my program assistant has said, no ability to fight--we all know that. His threats to "hook off", "swing", call his cousins or uncles will never amount to anything. He's the type of kid that's all bark, no bite, the kind that teachers, security guards, and even my staff has whispered about amongst ourselves many a time, saying "What he really needs is to get his --- whipped, that'd fix him real quick." Honestly, it's my surprise that no one, neither student nor staff, has made a concerted effort to "fix" him, as they say.

This kid, this spark in a tinderbox, can be just about unlovable some days. He's the common denominator in some of our most heated run-ins...but he's still a kid.

One thing that often replays in my head when it comes to students like him is the fact that we can and do put up with a lot in my programming. In a city devoid of alternative schools or education, our school is one of two of Camden's "last stops". We are one of the two public high schools in the city: if you can't make it with us, your options are all but exhausted. Take your pick between the streets, the penitentiary...or worse. And within this "last stop" of a school, a place that I've literally heard its very own teachers call "Camden's dumping ground", our program's tolerance for delinquents, outsiders and downright hoodlums is about the closest thing the school has to a safety net for some kids. 

I have made a point to accept almost anyone--I have fought to enroll and keep active gang members, over aged freeloaders, and kids within the school that no sane program coordinator would touch due to behavioral issues. My staff has always backed me 100% of the way, and 9 times out of 10, these marginalized troublemakers excel with us. We understand them, somehow, as all of us were delinquents ourselves when we were growing up. Even still, all of these "hoodlums" prove to be undeniably lovable, once you strip away that hard exterior rife with scars and pain.

So many kids we've accepted, so many times we have said yes when others would have said absolutely NOT. Yet today, everyone was fed up. This particular student had crossed them for the last time--his disrespect was too great. They wanted him out. To be completely honest...so did I. I forgot about his few redeeming qualities, the good times we've shared, his development as an adolescent in an unforgiving city. Even still, something told me to keep fighting for him, to give him his thousandth chance, to continue to work with him even though his words and actions have been cancerous to our programming. I heard them out, my demeanor always the same furrowed, deeply thoughtful expression. My heart was heavy, telling me to cut my losses. Nonetheless, I could not block out the logic that if we bar him--as would any program have done months ago--he would just end up in the streets. After all, I've seen him tend toward those shady park hangouts before. That's where it starts.

Either way, our deliberating was finally over. I sat him down and told him the corrective action plan I had decided, basically letting him know that he was on probation. He would be able to come back tomorrow, contingent on his continued good behavior. At first sign of disrespect or acting out, he would be sent home early each day of the offense. It's a decent system, and I've seen it work absolute wonders with changing around another former problem student.

...Yet my heart is still heavy over this, and I have no idea whether I have made the right decision. After checking to make sure I hadn't offended my staff by allowing him to stay, my one program assistant reassured me that she still stood behind me 100%, saying that I had definitely made "the Christian decision." The thing is, I don't know exactly what I've done. I know that mercy--even forgiveness or compassion--was shown, but did I do what Christ would have done? Am I hurting my staff and other students by continuing to let him participate?

- - - 

It is times like this that I thank God for His divine coincidences. Part of that passage I barely heard Friday night, Romans 5, says: "Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. ⁸ But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."(v. 6a - 8)

So even though we might have been completely broken, horrid, unrighteous and unlovable, Christ still loved us enough to die and save us from the eternal death of sin. Be that as it may, I really don't know how I rank up to Jesus on my quest to be Christ-like. However, I do know one thing:

I hate kicking kids out of program, and will avoid it at almost any cost.