In the midst of seemingly continuous hate crimes and
injustices flooding our media and current events, I’ve been hearing a lot about
the word tolerance. Some may celebrate
it, while others consider it a largely distasteful word.
Really, is there good reason why anybody should hold that state
in high regard? Tolerance is for cold
coffee when we have no way of heating it up, or soggy French Toast instead of
fluffy. I tolerate cat hair on my
carpet, the un-glued linoleum floor lifting up as I vacuum, and the bad haircut
I gave myself but try to hide by wearing wound up buns and ponytails every day. Tolerance is not appreciation. It is not love. It’s acceptance of the un-ideal. A rather snooty raised nose to something that
is less than supreme.
Many of the things mentioned above may be worthy of
tolerance. We can’t always mow our neighbor’s
lawns when they fail to keep theirs up to spec.
We must tolerate it at times. We
won’t all enjoy the mushrooms on the pizza.
But they will either have to be tolerated or removed for full
enjoyment. To tolerate those
“inconveniences” is understandable.
Necessary. The most unfortunate
area where tolerance comes into effect is where human life and dignity are
concerned.
I’ll admit it. There
are times I tolerate my kids. Even my
husband. Although those moments may not
be their best, those aren’t my shining moments either. Those
are the moments when I’ve lost my patience and empathy and I feel apathy or
cold-heartedness instead. When I am
tolerating my littles, I’d rather escape for a quickly stolen “bathroom” break
even when I don’t actually have to go than spend another moment listening to
their antics. I am aware that it’s bound
to happen, maybe more frequently than I’d care to admit, but it’s not the place
I’d like to be. I have a right to be
tolerant at times and God knows, there are numerous times when I’m impressed
and humbled that my kids and husband are willing to tolerate my shenanigans. It’s necessary at times, but it’s not
awesome. It is a cold, limp hand shake
rather than a hearty hug. It’s a wish
for someone or something to remain at a distance. A preference to remain apart in order to
avoid feigning interest in something or someone you truthfully have feelings
similar to disgust towards. Tolerance is
a reality but it is not something worthy of defending or clinging to. It has to be let go and banished for the best
to happen.
Nothing beats the calm contentedness of sharing hugs and a
laugh even when I’m well aware of yesterday’s tolerance. When I embrace fault and my own failures, I
am free to let go of tolerance and love again.
That is redemption. When I see
others’ differences as wonders of a God who found it worthwhile to make people
so different from myself, that is gift. If
we can celebrate diversity rather than remain in the realm of disdain, we are
following the declaration that “the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians
13:13). We all know tolerance is not love.
In our persistence in holding others at a distance or
looking down on others for their differences, we are potentially breeding hate,
and definitely tolerating. We are not
loving. Maybe we ought to allow some
moments of tolerance for the sake of our imperfect human nature, but let’s not
allow ourselves to remain in that place for long. For when we see past devices we can recognize
the beauty in variation. When we let
others live their paths and grow in their talents and interests we are inviting
them to be the gems that they are meant to be, not pushing our sparkly
characteristics somewhere they don’t belong.
We all are treasures. Even
despite our annoyances or disparities.
And we ought to give variety a hearty hug and let love, not tolerance,
prevail.
*** This
article was inspired by a Facebook Post I read and appreciated today:
A wise friend told me this week tolerance and acceptance are no longer options in the world. The choice
now is to love or not love. I choose love.#blacklivesmatter , #LGBTQrights, #womenareequal
