When I look back at my childhood and our frequent moves (which meant changing schools), my sixth grade year sticks out as the least pleasant. I was, again, the new student. The “ringleader” of the class took an instant dislike to me because I was, as she put it, a Jesus-freak, which to her was an insult (today I know it was the biggest compliment she could have given me). Consequently, no one would befriend me out of fear of facing her wrath (some little girls really can be vicious). It was a miserable year, and I suffered many painful snubs and mistreatments at the hands of my classmates and even by a teacher who viewed my bashfulness as stupidity and berated me often and unfairly in front of the other students. You can bet I counted down the days of that school year, eager to move on to what had to be better. There were times I wondered why God didn’t smite all of them (yes, I wanted Him to smite them—rather dramatic, I suppose, but I was only eleven), or at the very least give them all a fever so they’d have to stay home. It’s not easy to be on the receiving end of mistreatment.

During that year, though, I grew in compassion for the underdog. When I became a teacher, I made it a point to never treat a child the way that teacher had treated me. As for being a Jesus-freak, I’d rather be for Him than against Him because He would never hurt me like those kids did.

We will face trouble in this world, but Jesus told us to take heart, for He has overcome the world. Regardless of what persecutions we face, the experiences are temporary; life with Him will be eternal. When placed on a scale, which carries the most weight: brief earthly persecution or eternal heaven? The suffering will cease, God’s judgment will fall, and—as my mother liked to say—it’ll all land right in the end. *smile*