The Shore Sees What the Swimmer Can’t

When "Extra" Is Actually Holy!

Let’s talk about being called “extra.”
Some folks say it like it’s an insult.
Like “extra” is somehow worse than being spiritually stale, emotionally beige, or so mellow you might as well be a throw pillow.

Truth is:

God made some of us with big voices, big emotions, big callings, big presence.
If we were any more “medium,” we’d be decaf.

But then… comes that one friend.
The brave one.
The honest one.
The one who says, “Hey, love you… but maybe show a little more patience… maybe sprinkle in some grace… maybe don’t bulldoze every conversation like you’re auditioning for a demolition crew.”

And your first reaction is, of course:
“HOW DARE YOU BE RIGHT ABOUT ME?!”

A True Friend Stabs You in the Front

The Bible says, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend…” (Proverbs 27:6).
Notice: wounds.
As in—it might sting, it might humble you, it might bruise your ego like a peach under a bowling ball.
But it’s faithful.
It’s love dressed like confrontation.

A real friend is the one who:

Tells you when there’s broccoli in your teeth (and doesn’t tweet about it).

Alerts you when your fly is down BEFORE you greet half the congregation.

Taps you on the shoulder and says, “Hey champ, that wasn’t patience… that was a tornado.”

Gives you feedback you didn’t ask for but desperately needed.

That’s not betrayal.
That’s loyalty at a higher altitude.

The Shore Sees What the Swimmer Can’t

Sometimes you can be swimming your heart out—flailing, splashing, Olympic-level thrashing—and someone from the shoreline says,
“You’re drifting. You’re tired. You’re overdoing it. You’re underdoing it. You’re swallowing half the lake.”

And you’re like, “YOU DON’T EVEN SWIM!”
But here’s the truth:
The swimmer can’t see the shore, but the shore can see everything.
Distance gives clarity.

You need someone who isn’t soaked in your emotions to speak truth that isn’t drowning.

If you can’t hear correction without going DEFCON 1… you’re not growing, you’re just aging.

Yeah, I Can Be a Bulldozing Gorilla… but I Can Also Be Fluffy

Let’s be honest: some of us are powered by spiritual Red Bull.
We leap first, think second, apologize third, repeat fourth.
We mean well, but our “go get it!” sometimes sounds like “I WILL EAT THIS WALL.”

I get it.
You get it.
We all have a bit of Holy Gorilla living inside us.

But we also have softness, tenderness, love, and gentleness.
We are the paradox that God uses on purpose:
We can roar and we can nuzzle.
We can confront and we can comfort.
We can charge like a rhino and hug like a grandma.

If Jesus can flip tables and wash feet, then maybe our contradictions aren’t failures—they’re tools.

Jesus Was Both Lion and Lamb

Jesus got angry—righteously, strategically, intentionally.
He didn’t explode.
He expressed.
He didn’t destroy people.
He destroyed injustice.

So yes—anger has a place.
Boldness has a purpose.
Intensity has a mission.

But so do patience, gentleness, and grace.

The trick is knowing when to flip the table
and when to pull up a chair.

Proverbs says, “Whoever ignores instruction despises themselves.”
Translation: If you can’t take feedback, you’re the problem.

And guess what?
God loves you enough to send friends who tell you what you need to hear rather than what you want to hear.

That kind of honesty isn’t offensive.
It’s sanctifying.

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THE BEST IS YET TO COME,

Rev. John Roberts