A few weeks ago, after my duties of finishing my homework were complete (namely reading a few poems for my English class) I discretely made my way to the campus computer center. I was minding my own business, walking on the concrete path laid before me, some cyber fritting on my mind. I was ready to go and relax and vegetate on a few forums of which I find myself a part, when I noticed a girl coming down the path that would cross mine. I thought little of it as my mind wandered as it often does. Interesting, I noticed, was the fact that she was slowing down as I drew closer to the crossing. Interesting, also, was the fact that she continued to look at me. Weird. Keep going, keep going. I walked to the crosswalk keeping my gaze ahead.
“Excuse me.” Uh-oh. I turned to her. “Have you voted yet?” she asked sweetly—for homecoming king and queen I presumed.
“Uh, no actually, I haven’t yet.”
“Well then, you should vote for me—Nancy.” She reached into the plastic “THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” bag she was carrying, rummaged through, and pulled out a Dingdong lollipop which she promptly handed to me.
“Uh, okay.” I took the ridiculously small sucker and without further ado, walked on, reveling in my survival victory. It was then that I realized something that got me to thinking. I remembered being bombarded in the “CUB”—or Campus Union Building for all you un-college-lingo-savvy people (of which I formerly counted myself)—earlier that week when I was headed down to the coffee shop to work on my business class project. Tables lined up on each side of the walking area. Creatures behind the tables screamed at me as I passed.
“Vote for Celina!” “James needs your vote!” “Have you voted yet?” And so on and so forth.
I find it interesting that I can be inundated by these followers of candidates, and that they are considered normal, but those of us who want to tell others about Christ are considered freaks and fanatics. They can spread their love for whomever, but I cannot tell them about what Jesus has done for me and how much I love Him.
We, as society, have become so “toleration”-frenzied that we fail to realize that there can be no true form of toleration. If you can’t tolerate my intoleration of someone’s beliefs, then doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose? If you fail to see your fanaticism while mine is deemed abnormal or strange, why do you harp on tolerance?
We are all fanatics of one thing or other. Actually, fanaticism is a privilege of freedom. In a Communist society, one’s devotion and fanaticism is already chosen for him—it must be the government and, mostly, the despot controlling that government.
Be glad that you are able to call me a fanatic and that you can be one yourself. That means the ideals of freedom are still prevalent. They may soon be taken away.
So, what’s your fanaticism?
