There’s a twelve-year-old named Jacob who has been coming to the church I started in Virginia Beach most of his young life. One chilly November morning Jacob left his house to walk to the bus stop. As he walked up something stopped him. It was a rock. The kids at the bus stop were throwing rocks at him. They were also shouting. “You’re fat.” “Go home you faggot!” “Don’t cry, you fat faggot!” Jacob ran home, blinded with rage and shame, tasting the salt of his tears. His mother was surprised to see him, but after learning what happened, told Jacob she would drive him to school. Jacob knew the same bullies would be at school and begged to stay home, but his mother insisted he go.
That night the rest of his family heard about what happened. His older brother said, “Tomorrow morning we’re gonna go there together and beat those kids up.” His parents discussed calling the bully’s parents.
But Jacob had a different idea.
He explained that he wanted to invite the kid who had been most abusive to sleep over on Saturday night and go with the family to church on Sunday. His parents were flabbergasted. They asked, “Jacob, why would you want to do that? I mean, after what he did to you?”
You know why? Jacob had learned about being a guerrilla lover. Jacob was a guerrilla lover.
And the next day Jacob invited his attacker to sleep over and come to church with his family. Surprisingly, he said yes. That Saturday night he slept over, that Sunday he came to church, and he’s been going to church with Jacob every Sunday since.