I know there is more; I just can’t seem to find my way to it.
Part I
I came to a jarring realisation recently: I’m the problem sometimes. I think we all know this theoretically, but the truth is, we are usually the heroes of our stories and our point of view is always the right one. I’ve been part of a community for a while, and I always bemoaned not having close friends there. I’m a friendship person; there has never been a season of my life when I wasn’t part of a clique. I comforted myself because I still had my old friends and because everyone always says making friends as an adult is so much harder. I was convinced about this for a long time until I met my friend, Z. I have been in the community longer than Z, but I observed that she seemed to have more friends than me already. People also seemed to open up to her more easily and tell her things. It was then that I realised that neither the community nor adulthood were to blame; I was.
The bible says that a person who wants to have friends must first show himself friendly (Proverbs 18:24). I used to think that I was friendly, and in many ways I am, but I realise that I’ve also lost touch with the vulnerability that genuine friendships require. I think people can sense that, even if subconsciously. When you hold yourself aloof, even without meaning to, you often get aloof connections. It takes people like Z who have that openness to reach out to people like me, and that is how friendships can happen. It’s wild that more people are like me than Z, and that’s why there’s so much adult loneliness, I guess. My goal with this is two-fold: get us to realise that we are the problem and then get us to do something about it. It’s not enough to deduce the problem; many of us already realise that there’s something wrong but have an unwillingness to disturb the status quo. The decision is straightforward: anything worthwhile often requires that we push beyond the capabilities that we think we have. Put yourself out there; let’s be more like Z.
Part II
Why would you not tell your husband that the food he prepared doesn’t taste good? It’s because love introduces nuances to honesty. I know someone will say, “I always say my mind o” and I hear you! But if we are being honest, we always have different standards for the people we love. I’m not going to debate the morality of it, but think about politicians’ children or their spouses. How many of them have we seen speak openly against the politician? The most they often do if they don’t support the politics is to stay out of the spotlight and not actively be seen supporting them. Rarely are they vocal about any grievances. We probably would do the same if we were in their shoes.
Love demands loyalty, even if the person you are being loyal to isn’t that great. I can admit that, but I also believe that there has to be a line. Jesus taught that whoever would not hate father, mother, brother, etc for His sake could not be His disciple (Luke 14:26). Jesus was obviously not promoting hate; He was simply saying that if we could not love Him more than everyone else in the world, we could not genuinely follow Him. That, to me, is the line. Let love have its nuances but never to the point where it encroaches on God’s will and commandments.
Part III
Delusion is a real thing, and it does not apply to AI alone. In Purple Hibiscus, Kambili’s father is a devout Catholic. He’s a pillar in his community and respected by everyone. There’s just one problem: he’s an evil person. He physically abuses his wife and children, while still being extremely religious and known for his good works. People like him got me thinking – you can be sincere and be wrong. I think on some level, Kambili’s father probably never thought he was a bad person, and maybe the same could be said for Hitler too.
That’s the thing: to what degree can you be blinded by your own “goodness”? I think this is a call for all of us. The Bible asks Christians to consistently examine themselves, to see if they’re still in the faith (2 Corinthians 13:5). I’m guessing because, like any good delusion, we can really believe our own hype, even when we are on the wrong path.
More than half of the year is now gone. 2026 has been a year of great reawakening. I’m still stirring; I’ll let you know in December how it goes, by God’s grace. Until then, Bon Voyage!
Photo credit: Greg Rakozy on Unsplash