JEANNE MAYO

GOD'S ANSWER TO ANGRY CULTURAL BULLYING | Jeanne Mayo

If you hang around teenagers long enough, you already know the truth: we don’t really have a bullying problem in today’s middle schools and high schools. We have a respect problem. A respect‑for‑ourselves problem. A respect‑for‑others‑who‑aren’t‑like‑us problem.

Most students already know bullying is wrong. They don’t need a PowerPoint presentation to convince them. They don’t need another school assembly with a motivational speaker who juggles chainsaws while telling them to “be kind.” Deep down, they already know.

So what is the game‑changer?

It’s simple. It’s ancient. And it’s straight from the heart of Jesus.

Help teenagers learn to “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.”

Because when I know your story—or the story behind your story—I’m probably not going to judge you. When I take even sixty seconds to “walk in your shoes,” my attitude toward you changes. My tone changes. My assumptions change. And sometimes, my whole heart changes.

Jesus said it this way in Luke 10:27: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and love your neighbor the very same way you would love yourself.”

Paul echoed it in Romans 13:9: “All of the commandments can be entirely summed up in this one important command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

And James doubled down: “If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, ‘Love your neighbor in the same way you love yourself,’ then you are doing right.” (James 2:8)

Apparently, God thinks this “love your neighbor” thing is a pretty big deal.

THE DAY EVERYTHING CHANGED

April 20, 1999, was a tragic turning point in our nation’s conversation about bullying. That was the day of the Columbine High School shooting in Colorado. And while nothing—absolutely nothing—excuses the evil that happened that day, the journals left behind by one of the shooters, Eric Harris, revealed a heartbreaking thread:

“I hate you people! You never invited me to anything fun. You had my phone number but you never called me… You told yourself, ‘Don’t invite that weird Eric kid to hang out with us!’”

Again—his choices were his own. His actions were horrific. But the pattern we’ve seen in nearly every major school or theater shooting since then is chillingly similar:
  • The shooters spent enormous amounts of time consuming violent media, video games, music and music.
  • And not one of them was socially adept.
  • They were all students who felt like outsiders—unpopular, unnoticed, unwanted, and unaccepted.

Small kindnesses don’t just matter. They can literally save lives.

THE TWO ROOTS OF BULLYING
If you’re ever tempted to make someone feel like “junk,” it usually comes down to one of two respect problems:
  1. You don’t respect yourself.
  2. You don’t respect the other person.

And both of those are fixable. Both of those can be healed. Both of those can be transformed by the love of Jesus and the courage to “change your shoes.”

Let me tell you two true stories—stories that still sit heavy in my heart decades later. Stories of two young men I loved. Stories that remind me why this message matters so deeply.

CODY’S STORY: WHEN YOU DON’T RESPECT YOURSELF

Cody was sharp. Athletic. Good‑looking. The kind of kid who walked into a room and people noticed. But behind the smile, he was fragile in ways he didn’t yet understand.

One night, after a breakup with his girlfriend Hailey, Cody made a terrible decision. He got drunk, drove, and was arrested. Months later, when the court date finally came, he didn’t have the money for bail and had to serve a short sentence in the local jail—less than two weeks.

Three days before he was scheduled to be released, Hailey sent him a note. She didn’t even break up with him face‑to‑face. Just a quick message saying it was over.

And something inside Cody snapped.

When the jail called me, they had already called his parents. Cody had hung himself in his cell. On the wall, in shaky handwriting, were his last words: “Hailey, I will always love you.”

I still remember standing in that cold, sterile room. I still remember the ache in my chest as I prepared to preach his funeral. And I still remember thinking: How could a dating relationship become so powerful, so quickly, that it swallowed up an entire life?

Cody wasn’t a “basket case.” He had only been following Jesus for about six months. I had even warned him gently, “Let Jesus become your security first. Let Him fill the emotional crevasses in your heart before you hand that job to a girlfriend.”

But Cody didn’t do that. And the Enemy used that unanchored place in his heart to whisper lies—lies about his worth, his identity, his future.

Cody didn’t respect himself deeply. His sense of value was anchored too heavily in someone else’s acceptance. And when that acceptance disappeared, he felt like he disappeared.

I pray he cried out to Jesus in those final moments. I pray grace met him in that dark cell. But I know this for sure: When you don’t respect yourself, you become vulnerable to the Enemy’s most destructive lies.

BEN’S STORY: WHEN YOU DON’T FEEL RESPECTED BY OTHERS
Ben was brilliant. Off‑the‑charts brilliant. But socially? He struggled. He was short, gangly, wore thick glasses, and had never been taught how to dress or comb his hair in a way that helped him fit in.

His parents—both professors—loved him deeply, but they weren’t socially aware either. They didn’t think friendships or relational skills were a big deal.

But Ben did.

At school, he was the kid no one invited. The kid who sat at the “reject table.” The kid people only talked to when they needed homework answers. He understood the glances. He understood the whispers. He understood the laughter that wasn’t “with him” but “at him.”

At youth group, we worked hard to make him feel loved. A couple of guys befriended him. His small group leaders made him feel like a million bucks. His parents told me how much he loved being with us.

But youth group wasn’t his whole life. School was.

And school was lonely.

One Friday night, while his parents were at their adult small group, Ben stayed home alone. No invitations. No plans. Just another quiet night.

When his parents returned, they found him hanging from the ceiling tile dividers in their basement.

The EMTs explained that it likely wasn’t suicide. Ben had been reading a book about a heroic military leader who sacrificed his life by hanging so his troops could go free. They believed Ben was reenacting the scene—fantasizing, just for a moment, what it might feel like to be admired, respected, valued.

But a nerve in his neck was hit just wrong. He passed out. And he never woke up.

To this day, I still have a little wooden chair and stuffed animal from Ben’s childhood—gifts from his mother. A reminder of a young man who desperately wanted to feel accepted.
And I’m convinced he’s with Jesus today.

SO WHAT’S GOD’S ANSWER TO BULLYING?

It’s not a program. It’s not a poster. It’s not a school assembly.

It’s a pair of shoes.

Change your shoes. And help a few others do the same.

Walk in someone else’s story. Walk in someone else’s pain. Walk in someone else’s loneliness. Walk in someone else’s world long enough to see them the way Jesus sees them.

Because when you do, everything changes.

You stop judging. You stop assuming. You stop dismissing. You stop overlooking.
And you start loving.

The way Jesus commanded. The way Scripture repeats over and over. The way our world is starving for.

A FINAL WORD FROM A YOUTH PASTOR’S HEART

I’ve stood in too many rooms where a young person’s life ended far too soon. I’ve hugged too many parents whose hearts shattered in my arms. I’ve preached too many funerals for teenagers who never got to see their twenties.

And every time, I think the same thing: If someone had just “changed their shoes,” maybe the story would have ended differently.

So today, whether you’re a teenager, a parent, a teacher, a coach, or a youth pastor, I’m asking you:
  • Change your shoes.
  • Walk slower. Look deeper. Listen longer. Love wider.
  • And treat every person you meet like their story matters—because it does.

Jesus said the whole law hangs on one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

And sometimes, loving your neighbor starts with something as simple as slipping on their shoes.