I suffer from positive projection, part of my superpower of being driven (the medical world calls it a disorder), which often leads me to overlook a lot of bad stuff in the world. Part of this stems from my childhood, being informed that ‘out of place’ in any sense was bad thus my manners, appearance, facial expressions, words, and attitudes best keep lock step lest I become unlovable.
Imagine having all manner of feelings and emotions, confusion and concerns but knowing that these things were wrong, feeling out of place was wrong, and expressing it would destroy your worth. Yes, this is how I have felt my entire life, without being aware of it, until the Spring of 2023.
I turn 50 this year. In those five decades, I can remember nearly anything I’ve experienced. Most of all, I can recall a near-perfect voice that rings inside of me, subtly whispering to my subconscious to be aware of everything.
“Watch. Be Alert!”
“Pay attention!”
“Stay on Task!”
“Careful of your gaze!”
“Make sure you express yourself accordingly…”
Remember, these were speaking to my subconscious, but as a young boy, these things spoke to me continually.
I remember the sun-filled day, walking in line in 3rd grade from the cafeteria toward the south end doorway after lunch. I was always near the rear of the line due to my last name beginning with a T. I remember the warmth of the sun burning through my jet-black curls, imagining as if my hair was aflame, riding a horse like the villain intent on terrorizing Ichabod Crane. Peering at my shoes, a brand new, all-white pair of New Balance with laces brilliant white, my eyes hurt at the glance, the sun reflecting with such power that I staggered, corrected, and then began to heel-toe walk down the center line of the street.
I thought, “My hair takes the sun and my shoes push it away.” In all but a moment my conversation went to ethereal things, imagining what the universe was like, how outer space would feel, and embracing what I understood as the Creator looking at me on that road, He could see everything about me, the inside.
This startled me, and caused me to remember what I believed to be true about my feelings, how being lonely, hurt, angry, or in need was bad. I wondered if God would love me or if by having these thoughts I would be hated.
Well, I walked past my peers who successfully executed a left face, and kept a few steps South toward the end of the building to hear Ms. Peachy, “James, where are you going? Come back to the line please.”
Embarrassment settled. Then my friends laughed. I smiled, but inside I was horrified that everyone was looking at me. My mind went back to my shoes. I was proud to have them. They were clean and fit to be seen. Maybe everyone would look at them.
For the remainder of the day, I would converse with my inner voice. I was sure to present myself in a manner congruent with the identity I was given by my community. I had to live up to the standard of this small southern town and never do anything that would bring shame to anyone else. I was deep in thought, the class was reading out loud in turn and my ability to multitask (I didn’t know this at the time) was superhuman.
So, without missing a beat, I followed along with the reading, managing my ideas of how I could fit in and be ‘good’, all the while contemplating the expanse of outer space and the infinite horror of such an approach. Eventually, my childhood contemplation of infinity caused a phobia of outer space that remains to this day.
“Ok… James, please continue…”, rang the voice.
Picking up the next line I read, “And then he took the basket and placed tom-
(next page) -atoes….”
I said, “TOM – Ah – TOES” – the whole class rang out. In my multiverse, I missed the fact that being present is required for reading in context and while there was no character named Tom, the line did read about his toes.
Immediately, I cringed. Sunk in my inner self, and smiled and laughed as my peers snorted with laughter, “He said tom a toes…. hahahaahhah.”
For weeks I was known as “Tom A Toes”.
This was good. These kids were enjoying themselves. After all, I was providing dual comedic relief for the day. I learned to laugh because men didn’t cry (“you sissy). I learned to get angry, but only when I had enough. Then I would have to make good because I would just ‘show’ that I was angry.
Deep within me birthed a discipline of framing everyone with my same inner motives. I have never wanted revenge, never plotted evil (more than a few minutes), and never purposefully wanted to hurt someone else’s feelings with the few exceptions of some bullies, but I dare not. At least this was MY perception of me.
So, all through life, even when standing up for myself, fighting back, and being honest, deep down I would eventually see mean people as just in need of encouragement, friendship, or an explanation that what they were doing was hurting others. Up until April of 2023. One year ago.
The DSM-5 doesn’t call hyper-empathy a disorder or a mental condition. It doesn’t mention it at all. And while all humans have some level of empathy and most people have a sense of feeling empathy in some emotions, I do not just feel every feeling, I impose based on changes in tone, behavior, microexpressions, and mood things that may not be there. If someone shares a feeling, I take myself into their experience, not just their shoes. I feel the pain and the anguish, and sometimes, it’s more than I can bear. (This is why I cannot watch videos of people getting physically hurt. It causes me internal pain.)
But this is a superpower. It rings a bell in the tower of what it means to have the mind of Christ and His compassion.
Let me get to the point.
As Christians, we are called to consider the good, a directive that finds its echo in the scripture of Philippians 4:8, reminding us to dwell on whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable. This calling isn’t merely an invitation to a passive state of mind but a robust engagement with the world through a lens that magnifies the inherent goodness of God’s creation and the virtue in each other.
We are also encouraged to name sin and hold others accountable, an endeavor reflected in the wisdom of Proverbs 27:17, where the mutual sharpening of character among believers is likened to iron sharpening iron. Matthew 18:15-17 further instructs us on the grace-filled yet firm approach to addressing sin within our communities, marking a pathway that seeks restoration over condemnation, dialogue over division.
In this journey, the essence of forgiveness and the possibility of reconciliation stand as pillars of our faith, as noted in Colossians 3:13. Here, the imperative to forgive as we have been forgiven by the Lord is not just a moral guideline but the very fabric of our communal life in Christ. It acknowledges the profound truth that forgiveness is a divine trait that we are called to emulate, a sacred echo of God’s limitless grace toward us.
Yet, the scripture also counsels wisdom in acknowledging that not all things are fully reconcilable, at least not on human terms. Romans 12:18 offers a sobering yet hopeful note on the limits of our peacemaking efforts, urging us to live peaceably with all so far as it depends on us. This acknowledgment does not signal a failure of faith but a recognition of the complex tapestry of human free will, bounded by the realities of sin and grace.
In this light, recognizing the good and acknowledging the bad becomes a delicate dance of faith, navigation through the murky waters of human relationships under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. It’s a call to a higher standard, one that doesn’t ignore the reality of sin but also doesn’t lose sight of the potential for redemption and transformation inherent in the gospel.
The caveat to this is the recognition that people change—and that, truly, when they do, we owe it to them to forgive and walk together anew. However, it is also true that people may not change, and in such cases, we are not bound in perpetuity to a cycle of hurt and reconciliation. Proverbs 22:24-25 warns against entanglement with those prone to anger, a scripture that serves as a reminder that, while forgiveness is non-negotiable, reconciliation may not always be possible or even wise.
In the trust we place in the Lord, as Proverbs 3:5-6 implores us to do, we find the ultimate solace and guidance. It’s in this divine trust that we navigate the complexities of human relationships, armed with the wisdom to discern when to embrace and when to set boundaries, when to seek reconciliation and when to lovingly let go.
Thus, the journey of faith oscillates between the joy of embracing the good in one another and the sobering task of confronting sin with grace. It’s a path marked by the footprints of Christ, who walked this earth not only as a beacon of divine love but also as a testament to the power of forgiveness, the hope of redemption, and the peace that surpasses all understanding. This, indeed, is the superpower of empathy, the bell in the tower of what it means to have the mind of Christ and His compassion—seeing beyond the immediate to the eternal, beyond the fault to the redemption, and always, always, towards the horizon of God’s boundless love and grace.
Reflecting on this narrative, woven with personal anecdotes and theological musings, we find at its heart a profound connection between the lived experience of positive projection—a superpower in its own right—and the Christian call to embody the compassion and empathy of Christ. This journey, marked by moments of introspection, embarrassment, and self-discovery, culminates in a realization of the transformative power of empathy, not just as a personal trait but as a reflection of divine love.
My story, beginning with childhood memories and extending into a deep exploration of empathy, mirrors the biblical injunctions to recognize the goodness in others, confront sin with love, and navigate the complexities of forgiveness and reconciliation. It underscores the reality that our superpowers, often labeled as disorders, can indeed be manifestations of the divine image within us, enabling us to see the world and its inhabitants through the lens of grace and compassion.
This superpower of positive projection, while leading me to overlook the darker aspects of the world, also equips me with a unique capacity to feel deeply for others, to inhabit their experiences as if they were my own. It’s this very capacity that reflects the mind of Christ—a relentless drive toward understanding, compassion, and unconditional love.
The narrative arc of my life, punctuated by the voice of my subconscious urging caution and conformity, eventually breaks free into an embrace of my true nature. This embrace is not just a rejection of societal norms that demand lockstep conformity but a wholehearted acceptance of the divine call to see beyond the surface, to engage deeply with the joys and sorrows of others, and to bring light into the shadows with empathy and love.
The biblical passages interwoven into this reflection serve not only as guideposts but as affirmations of the path I’ve walked. They illuminate the dual calling to embrace the good and confront the bad, to forgive and seek reconciliation, all while acknowledging that some divides may remain unbridged. This delicate balance between acceptance and discernment, love and wisdom, mirrors the intricate dance of living a life attuned to the empathetic superpower bestowed upon me.
This journey through childhood memories, moments of misunderstanding, and theological exploration leads to a powerful realization: my superpower of positive projection, framed within the context of Christian faith, is a call to live out the compassion of Christ in a world yearning for empathy and understanding. It challenges me, and perhaps all of us, to not only acknowledge our unique capacities—our superpowers—but to wield them in service of a higher love, a love that sees beyond the flaws and foibles of our shared humanity and embraces the divine spark within each person. Thus, my story is a testament to the power of empathy as a bridge between human experience and divine love, a beacon guiding us toward a more compassionate and understanding world.