Introduction: The Day Wickedness Moved Closer Than I Was Comfortable With Growing up, I had a very clean definition of wickedness. It was convenient, actually. Wickedness lived in horror movies—the kind I never watched but heard about from friends who clearly had stronger hearts than mine. It lived in news headlines—wars, murders, and corruption scandals. It lived in those people. You know the ones. The ones we shake our heads at and say, “How could someone do that?” And so I made a quiet agreement with myself. I am not that. Simple. Clean. Comfortable. But comfort, I’m learning, is often where truth goes to hide. Recently, something shifted for me. Not dramatically. Not in a thunderbolt moment. But slowly, uncomfortably, like a mirror being turned in my direction when I wasn’t ready for it. It happened as I was reading Proverbs—not casually, but with the kind of attention that doesn’t allow you to escape yourself. And then I saw it. Not in someone else. In me....
Banksy inspired portrait A statement has quietly crept into our conversations, our decisions, and, if we are not careful, into our identity. You’ve heard it. You’ve probably said it. “No one is coming to save you.” It sounds strong. It sounds disciplined. It sounds like the kind of thing a person says when they decide to take responsibility for their life. And I will be honest with you. I carried it like armor. Chest out. Jaw tight. Almost as if I had figured something out that others hadn’t. But over time, I started to notice something. Something I could only begin to grasp through the lens of consciousness and human behavior. Not in theory. In people. In how they spoke. In how they treated others. In how they carried themselves when life hit them. And I began to realize. This statement is both true and dangerously incomplete. And if misunderstood, it does not just make you strong. It can quietly make you hard. And there is a difference. A very dangerous difference. ...