orange t-shirts and why I hate them

Recently I opened my inbox to find this header for an email:

Hi friend…Can you be trusted?

And after smiling at the fact that none of my real friends would send me an email with that as the subject–I mean, certainly not now, anyway–it reminded me of something that my brother Jason and I had discussed a little while ago.

We’d like it if the dangerous people in the world, the ones who will hurt you and count you as dispensable, would have to wear something in order to kindly give the rest of us a heads up.

We specified that they wear a bright orange t-shirt.

But that could be negotiated, I suppose.

And you know that song, And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love…? Well, we could sing something similar, something like:

And we’ll know they aren’t safe by their orange shirts, their orange shirts…

I think that’s a great plan, actually.

There’s just one problem.

See, in the end, we’d all have to wear those orange t-shirts. Because the fact of the matter is that all of us hurt each other. And though some would definitely be awarded brighter orange t-shirts than others (in fact, I could hand some out personally, if you’d like), we’re still all lumped together as being imperfect. Beautiful, yes. But dangerous, definitely.

So this presents some kind of problem for me.

I’ve never had an issue with trusting people before. I generally believe what people tell me, take it at face value. I’d like to live in a world where that is possible. Believing people, I mean. I’d like to live in a world where promises are words that are binding, made of stronger stuff than the precious medals we pay so much for.

But I don’t.

And if I didn’t believe that before, I’ve learned the hard way. Somebody once told me that I can never really understand others’ pain because my life has been so perfect but I can tell you for a fact that if that were even remotely true before (though I am not convinced it was), that has definitely been taken care of.

Don’t you worry, I’ve got it now.

I think I’m starting to comprehend what this whole pain phenomena is all about. Is there a union to join? Some kind of card-carrying club I can be a part of? Sign me up. Heck, most nights are free anyway–I’ll go to your meetings and I’ll sell your cookies or whatever to raise the funds.

Because I totally and enthusiastically get it now.

But this lesson–I don’t want it to be the final say. I’ve been in contact with some people who have, for me, worn the brightest colored orange t-shirt that they make, but I’d still like some other lessons to crowd out this one.

I’d like to trust. God knows, that’s the truth.

But I’m scared. God knows, that’s the truth too.

So which will win out? Fear or trust? That’s up to me, I guess.

But in the meantime I am going to try to wear any color shirt but an orange one, metaphorically speaking. I’m also gonna leave a pretty wide berth between me and those who are wearing those bright orange tees.

It’s not personal. I just don’t really like the orange t-shirt look anymore and really, after what I’ve been through, can you blame me?