No More Bullies by Frank Peretti Page B

would have guessed that they had lived for years with a wounded spirit, with memories of sorrow, abuse, and loneliness, of being pariahs at their schools, on the job, or in their families. But they hadn’t forgotten what those wounds felt like, and now, having heard me broach the subject and admit that the faces of my oppressors still haunted my memories, these adults felt free to talk about the ghosts from their pasts.
    Later, I sat down with a charming couple, a drama duo who presented some remarkable parables and skits during the conference. They too had a story to tell about demeaning experiences in their pasts, and the similarities were disturbing and comforting; disturbing because the problem is so universal, but comforting because we could share so freely from a common experience.
    After I got back home, I heard from the organizers of the event. No, I hadn’t flopped as I had feared. Actually, I’d hit a nerve.
    Dr. James Dobson heard a tape of my talk while exercising on the treadmill one morning, and it touched him so deeply he took his wife, Shirley, out for a drive that evening, and they listened to the tape again in the car. They agreed they had to share it with the Focus on the Family radio audience.
    The opening words of the broadcast are worth recounting. First came the telephone voice of an anonymous woman: “I was one of those kids who at one time in my life was mean to everybody else. I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart. Please forgive me and forgive everybody else, because nobody deserves all that.”
    Then Mike Trout, Dr. Dobson’s radio cohost, gave a warm and evocative introduction: “Did you ever pick on someone? Tease him or her for whatever reason? Well, of course, you did. Unfortunately, it’s an event that happens far too often, and I’d go as far as to say you remember at least one occasion when you were made fun of too. Those memories are etched in our brains, and each occasion, each offense is an ingredient in the recipe that has come together over the years to create who we are today.”
    The recording of my talk followed, and I don’t know what sort of response Focus on the Family anticipated, but I had no idea how vast an audience would identify with those words. After the talk was broadcast in October 1999, Focus on the Family received 3,375 telephone calls. When the same program was rebroadcast in December 1999, Focus received 1,264 calls. At least 316 callers requested tapes after the first broadcast and 1,117 callers requested tapes following the rebroadcast. The folks at Focus informed my publisher that these numbers are much higher than the usual response to a broadcast. Ordinarily, a response by one thousand callers is considered good; two thousand callers is beyond the best expectations. When three thousand calls come in, they know they’ve touched a nerve.
    Now, I’m a writer with a name and an audience, so I wrote this book, but I realize that my story is nothing exceptional, that the wounds inflicted on me are marginal compared to those who have suffered severe child abuse, spousal abuse, verbal, sexual, or emotional abuse. My pain pales in comparison to that endured by the brave men and women who survived Hitler’s concentration camps. When I think about the victims and families involved in the senseless murders of those who died in Littleton, Colorado, or the students who were shot to death in Paducah, Kentucky, or the tortures that many people have overcome in their personal lives, I’m embarrassed even to mention the bullying I experienced.
    But we do have an issue here, don’t we? I’m only one small voice in a sea of voices, and our issue is more than just a simple case of teasing. While we can all accept that bullying and abuse betray a lack or loss of respect for other human beings, there is a deeper issue: the devaluing of human life; and that in turn indicates a lack or loss of