Rebel With A Cause

I have never fit in.  When I was growing up, I was the odd girl who carried a stack of books around instead of a lunchbox with the latest cartoon hero on it.  I lived mostly in my head, which gave me the reputation of being an absent-minded daydreamer.  I was called a birdbrain, accused of “being out in left field,” told I had zero common sense, and had to be reminded to “get my head in the game.”  This wasn’t entirely undeserved.  I was very forgetful—I once went to the library with my family and forgot to wear shoes.  I went swimming once and lost my swimming suit on the short walk home.  I lost so many pairs of mittens that my mom started tying them to my coat.  I’d make myself a fort out of blankets and get so involved in whatever book I was reading that I’d forget to come to meals.  I would get ideas for stories I wanted to write and pay no attention to my surroundings—which once resulted in my brother Adam pitching a baseball right into my forehead.  In Adam’s defense, we were playing catch at the time.  He had no idea that my brain had taken a vacation.

The truth is, I never had a burning desire to fit in.  My friends were my books, my brother, and the notebooks I wrote in.  I liked being by myself.  I could spend hours reading and writing and have no idea how much time had passed.   So when I started college and heard the word “nonconformist” being bandied about, I thought I had found a group that I could get along with while still being unapologetically myself.  But it didn’t take me long to realize that the nonconformists all hung out together, wearing Doc Martens, listening to Nirvana, and trying to dress like they were part of the original grunge movement that came from Seattle.

The day that I went down into the basement for my first recovery meeting, I discovered something shocking—I fit in!  All of the people I met in recovery were like me—odd, misunderstood, and with pasts that were sketchy, to say the least.  We are a group of misfits, rebels, criminals, and underdogs.  But we understand each other.  We have a sign in our meeting room that says, “I used to be the black sheep of my family.  Then I came here and discovered the rest of my herd.”  Truer words were never spoken.   For the first time in my life, I didn’t think of myself as an oddball or a weirdo.  I felt like I fit.  And I felt like a rebel.

I’m extremely introverted.  I love my family, my books, and my cats.  The most rebellious thing I ever did was when I was about ten, and Adam convinced me to go up the down escalator at a mall.  Oh, and there was the time I didn’t turn my phone off in a movie theater.  So how could someone like me be a rebel?  Sobriety.  Being sober is the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done.  Every gathering I go to, where people are drinking, I feel like a rebel—because I’m not drinking.  I’m not doing what everyone else is.  To me, that’s rebellion—being different from everybody else.  And that appeals to me.  I like being different.  I like being a rebel—a very quiet, introverted rebel whose rebellion has mostly gone unnoticed.  But my friends in recovery see it.  They’re rebels in that same way.  We like to joke that we’re the only ones who really understand each other—and because of that, we’ve got friends in low places.

So did Jesus.  His disciples were a deliberately chosen group of rebels, misfits, and criminals.  Peter had a bad temper and lied about knowing Jesus.  James and John were nicknamed the “sons of thunder.”  They had the bright idea to destroy a whole village because some people who lived there wouldn’t let them spend the night.  Matthew was a tax collector, which in those days was the equivalent of being a criminal.  Religious Jews believed that tax collectors were past the point of repentance because of their immoral lifestyles.  And Simon, the “Zealot,” wasn’t called that because of his zeal for Christ.  Zealots were violent warriors who had a reputation for murdering the Romans who oppressed them.  Jesus definitely had friends in low places.

So why did he choose them, of all people, to be his closest, most trusted friends?  I think there were many reasons, and I believe that one of those reasons was that Jesus knew that people are drawn more to sinners than to saints.  Most of us aspire to be like saints, but we can relate more to sinners.  And frankly, saints aren’t as interesting.  But sinners?  We are sinners.  So the example of those 12 rebellious sinners that Jesus chose to follow Him on His earthly journey is one we can all relate to.

Maybe it’s the Irish part of me, but these days, I’m proud to be a rebel.  I’m proud to be sober because I know the rebellion it took me to get there.  I think most people could use a little rebellion in their lives—a point that they reach when they say, “You know what?  I don’t want to be that anymore.  I’m ready to be this.”  It might be like my rebellion, quiet and mostly unnoticed.  Or you might turn your whole life upside down when you say, “I’m done.  Here’s the new thing I’m going to be doing.”

My advice?  Do it.  Shake up the routine in your life and start a rebellion.  If you don’t like something about the way you’re living, stop it.  Rebel.  And change it.  If you need inspiration, think about the disciples, the poets, the dreamers, the true nonconformists, and the misfits who have come before you.  Find a support group if you need one.  You’ll make some wonderful new friends—maybe even friends in low places.  It’s never too late to change, to decide that you want something better than what you have now.  Take a baby step or make a giant leap.  Do it your way.  But do it—stage your rebellion and change your life.  Take it from this misfit rebel—it’s worth it.