Equally Munching

🦒🐘🦋👩 The Great Leaf Challenge 🍁

​Once upon a time, nestled in a sunny, green meadow, lived four very different, but very best, friends: Amaya the graceful giraffe, Siggy the mighty elephant, Biggie the fluttering butterfly, and Charlotte the curious human girl. One beautiful morning, they all looked up at the tallest tree in the meadow and sighed.  Right at the very top were the freshest, crunchiest-looking leaves they had ever seen!

​"Oh, how I wish I could taste those!" sighed Amaya, stretching her long, spotted neck, but even she couldn't quite reach the highest branch.

​"I have an idea!" declared Charlotte. "I can climb!" With a deep breath and careful hands, Charlotte began her slow journey up the rough bark. Scritch, scratch, up, up, up she went, until finally, she reached the highest leaves! She took a tiny bite. "Hmm," she mumbled, "They're a little tough and bitter... not exactly my favorite!"

​But then, Amaya walked right up to the trunk. "Charlotte, can you pass me one?" Charlotte carefully reached out and plucked a handful of the high leaves. Since Amaya's long neck made her almost as tall as Charlotte's climbing height, Charlotte could easily hand them over. Munch, munch, crunch! "Oh, delicious!" whispered Amaya, her eyes sparkling.

​Boom, boom, boom! Siggy the elephant lumbered over. "Me next! Me next! I want the crunchiest leaves too!" Siggy didn't have a neck like Amaya, or hands for climbing like Charlotte, but he had something else amazing! Siggy raised his strong, long trunk, twirled it right up to the leaves, and with a gentle pull, grabbed a big, leafy snack! Slurp, slurp, chomp! "Wonderful!" trumpeted Siggy happily.

​Suddenly, a tiny flash of color zipped through the air. It was Biggie the butterfly! "Wait for me!" squeaked Biggie. She didn't need to climb or stretch or reach; she had wings! Biggie just flapped her beautiful, delicate wings and flew right up to the treetop. She gently landed on a leaf and sipped the sweet dew and sap, enjoying her own special butterfly taste of the feast.

​Charlotte smiled as she watched her friends. They all wanted the same thing—a taste of the high leaves—but they each got to them in a completely different way: Charlotte climbed, Amaya reached with her neck, Siggy grabbed with his trunk, and Biggie flew. Even though they were all so different, they were all successful and happy together.

​"See?" said Charlotte as she slid back down to the ground. "We are all different, with different talents, but we are all equal in the end, because we all found a way!"

​And so, the four friends—the climber, the neck-stretcher, the trunk-grabber, and the flier—enjoyed the rest of their sunny day together, celebrating their wonderful differences.

​The End.

The Absolute Rightness

We tend to operate under the assumption that the way we see the world, the way we perceive it, is the only correct reality. This bedrock of individual certainty gives rise to a universal paradox: the belief that anybody who is different is, by definition, wrong.

This notion seems particularly prevalent in communities where various worldviews collide. A large number of people define life by rigid, aesthetic standards: we must all live in nice homes; we are all clean and neat and well-vaccinated; our children attend the right schools; we dress correctly; we listen only to pop music; and we’ll all take up pickleball when we get old—all sorts of absolute nonsense. This conformity dictates that all who step outside this prescribed narrow lane are somehow defective.

The Clashing Realities

Yet, reality is messy and stubborn. Consider the character who defies this neat order: the guy whose house is always anchored by two or three cars out front. He wears his cowboy hat and a sleeveless vest, is badly shaven, and sports the scruffiest 1970s mustache you ever saw. This man lives his life exactly like this, not to make a statement, but because as far as he is concerned, he is an absolute reality. He is his own normal.

Contrast him with Old Missus Jeans, who possesses an unshakeable, biblically-based certainty. She believes, passionately, that the second coming is imminent, and that border crossers, transsexuals, and LGBTQ people are fundamentally wrong. Her pastor has confirmed these beliefs, solidifying her exclusive moral framework.

Five blocks away, you find the transsexual person who views their life as completely normal. Within their circle, they are accepted. The "weirdos" are the few who don't accept them. They, too, are judging the bureau, maintaining their own island of what is correct.

Every person, regardless of their position on the social spectrum—whether conforming, defying, or seeking acceptance—has a different idea of what life is like. While holding a specific view is fine, the problem arises when they believe that everyone else's differing view is wrong. Even those who feel discriminated against participate in this universal cycle of judging others by their opinions.

The Crucial Boundary of Intolerance

This entire landscape of universal judgment is the definition of intolerance.

We often apply this intolerance to people on the margins: the individual with a home that is not decently cleaned because life has never been easy and picking up things off the floor is a monumental task. They are judged as lazy, drug addicted, or alcoholics. But here the narrative makes a crucial, compassionate distinction.

The reality is that you can meet alcoholics who are truly nice people, even though they have damaged their own health; you can meet drug addicts for whom you have more respect than certain outwardly 'respectable' people. The lesson is that we must distinguish between the good and the bad, but we should only be intolerant of the bad things that people do specifically to others.

The bad things people do to themselves—their addiction, their unconventional lifestyle, their chosen isolation—must be governed by a different rule: it's their selves. It is none of your business. Mind your own concerns, leave them alone.

Tolerance, in this light, is not passive acceptance; it is the active maintenance of personal boundaries. It requires a radical step: Can you ever step out of your own shoes and feel what it's like to be that guy who is living under a bridge, not because he is a failure, but because it takes away some of the pain of dealing with other people?

Whether it is sleeping in an old cabin in the bush or existing under a concrete arch, the choice of living a life that is uncomfortable to others is ultimately their story. It is not our life, and we are not going to endure their suffering. Our duty is not to judge, but to recognize that their path, however scruffy or painful, is their own absolute reality.

Conclusion

Ultimately, true tolerance requires us to reserve judgment for acts of harm directed at others, while respectfully acknowledging and protecting the personal sovereignty of every individual's life choices.

The constant human drive to define and enforce "rightness" is the root of societal intolerance, creating conflict between those who conform, those who defy, and those who struggle. To escape this cycle, we must internalize the single, vital boundary: we must vehemently oppose persecution and harm against others, but we must withdraw our judgment from the personal struggles and unconventional paths that do not spill over into external injury. We must learn the profound humility of accepting that every individual's life, however strange or difficult, is their own unique reality, and it is not ours to control, criticize, or consume.

Jesus was a SOCIALIST.

We are often afraid to say it straight up, but Jesus was by definition a socialist. The quiet truth about Jesus's message is that it’s inherently radical, and frankly, far to the political left. Many of us have been taught a version of Christianity sanitized for comfort, but if you read the Gospels without the filter of modern politics, the message is unavoidable.

​Jesus didn't just advocate for charity; he championed systemic social and economic revolution. Remember the camel and the eye of the needle? "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God." This wasn't a friendly warning; it was a devastating indictment of wealth accumulation. The spiritual danger of hoarding is central to his teaching.

​The early Christians understood this. The Book of Acts tells us they held "all things in common," selling property and laying the money at the feet of the disciples to be distributed "as any had need." This is not individualistic tithing; this is shared, communal living. This is socialism in practice, forming the very foundation of the church.

​Jesus taught us not to seek earthly rewards or build up treasures here, because those things rot and distract from what matters: kindness, love, virtue, and justice. His entire focus was on serving the poor, the marginalized, and the sick. When he promised reward, it was the reward of a transformed soul and a life lived in accordance with divine love—treasures stored up in heaven, not a bigger yacht down here.

​This is precisely why the prosperity gospel is such a complete and utter contradiction of Christ's core message. It’s an insulting, greedy distortion that suggests God rewards people with material gain. Jesus taught that following him often leads to earthly suffering, not earthly riches. The reward isn't a magical waving of a wand to grant you wealth; the reward is the profound, good life—the peace and purpose—that comes from living exactly as he taught: prioritizing love and justice above all else.

​If you are following the Christ who condemned exploitation, demanded wealth sharing, and centered his ministry on the poor, you are following the real Jesus. And that Jesus would have absolutely been a socialist. The message of the left is the original, deeply Christian faith.

​#ChristianLeft #SocialJustice #Jesus #TrueGospel #Acts #Wealth #Socialism