Philadelphia is full of people with clear dreams of how life should be lived, who believe those dreams are good and necessary, and who’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish those dreams. If someone should hinder or question the validity of those dreams, armor locks into place, weapons are readied, and aggression reigns.
My first few months in Philadelphia were defined by that very Aggression. My view of others was obscured by fear and weaponry. Above all, I held fast to my preconceived notions of what had to be, and to the belief that a cold and lowered shoulder was the clearest path to building a life in a new city.
Let’s be clear: a cold and lowered shoulder definitely clears a path, but it don’t build shit. A cold and lowered shoulder tears skin away and bruises the bone. You wound, and you bleed, and worst of all, you succumb to the lie that this is how life must be.
In life, goes the lie, you will battle, bruise, and bleed. This cycle of brute force is how you make a life.
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I wouldn’t say Philadelphia wears its heart on its sleeve. I’d say Philadelphia wears its heart on its sleeves, pants, hat, and shoes. It has its heart tattooed on its neck and across its cheekbone. It’s seared onto its palms and jammed underneath its toenails.
To hate and be hated in Philadelphia is to feel a penetrating, relentless ice-cold in the marrow of your bones. Hatred—expressed as violence, isolation or otherwise—proclaims the hated one as unworthy.
Haters gonna hate, it is what it is, such is life, all the way home. But to be loved in this city is to feel Presence. To feel passion and abiding. To love and be loved in a place where Aggression so easily rules feels like an act of defiance. Like rebellion.
When faced with aggression, you love. You speak softly because you ascribe to a different spirit. Violence is exacted upon our world, but we do not react with violence. Hatred fuels the way of the world, but we choose not to hate. Storms speed and darken the sky with rage, but our hearts are slow and bright.
Though fire-swirl, though wind-blow, though earth-shake, we believe in a still, small voice.
This is the way of Love. This is the way of Tenderness.
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I don’t live in Philadelphia anymore, but the city and its lessons remain part of me. I know that I fight by the way in which I love. My invitation to and need of others in my life is not a sign of weakness, but rather strength. Because of Philadelphia, I know what it means to hate and be hated. I also know what it means to love and be loved.
The Lord used Philadelphia to teach me tenderness. The city bursts at the seams with rage and joy and malice and love, but without guidance amid such tides, I am lost. My life necessitates I know Christ, the wonders of His love, and through Him, the workings of my heart; how selfish it is, how much it wants to protect itself, how often it chooses to lie, and how scared it is of the unknown.
Yes, hatred is easier. It requires no great strain. All it needs is a willingness to let your heart atrophy. All it demands is nothing. Is wilting. Is cowering. Is shrinking.
Hatred risks nothing and rewards nothing.
Tenderness will risk everything. Tenderness will risk being broken, battered and blown to smithereens. Tenderness presses its palms out and devotes itself to another.
Philos Adelphos. Love of one’s brother. Sister. Stranger.
Friend or Enemy. Eagles Lover or Cowboys Fan.
Yeah, you heard me. Cowboys Fan.
It will always be easier to reject the world and tell it to go fuck itself. Such rejection tosses aside the belief that the world could be something other than what’s seen. As we reject, we refuse to believe the world could be anything other than what we see, anything other than what we want and the people who stop us from getting it.
By choosing tenderness, again and again, I submit control of the narrative. I put down my weapons and my preconceptions. I give space for the mystery and depth of others. Not to say that everything revealed will be positive, but I know that if I am to live with joy, I must choose to be sincere in my affection and love for people.
Tenderness, though difficult, takes a different posture than hate. It validates and demonstrates a profound belief in the hearts of others. It sees the totality of what is, and hopes for the expression of what could be. Such belief does not relent; it is stronger than any weapon anger can wield. Tenderness is the clear and consistent declaration of love toward another. It is the Lord’s current which takes us, cleans us and guides us home.
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About Dominic Laing
Dominic Laing lives in Portland, Oregon. He writes in a variety of genres, loves books, movies and New Orleans jazz.
Good stories are, for him, like good campfires -- they invite and illuminate. They are our way of knowing and becoming known.
