The bored and the boring

Tony Campolo says, ‘There are two kinds of people in the world: the bored and the boring.’

If I’m honest, I find most of the people I meet boring. That may seem a bit harsh, but there are a lot of boring people in the world. Of course, if I’ve ever met you, then I’m clearly not talking about you when I say this. You’re wonderful and interesting. I’m talking about the other people. The boring ones.

You see, I’m passionate about passion and I’m drawn to enthusiastic people. Not your infomercial, over the top, look-at-me-I’m-excited-about-this kind of people that border between entertaining and nauseating while smacking of sincere insincerity. I mean authentically passionate people who display genuine enthusiasm. Their passion is betrayed by the sparkle in their eyes, the excited, almost urgent, edge to their voice; or alternatively, the volume drop in their voice, drawing me closer because it’s as if they’re about to share some precious secret.

There is something wonderfully attractive about people with real passion. Their passion just naturally spills out of them. They feel compelled to share what they’re enthusiastic about.

Of course, such passion needs to be directed; it has to reflect something of substance and meaning. If a person is to truly interest me, their passion must be for something I can relate to and that I sense some value in. I mean, if your passion is collecting ear wax, or you’re passionate about the impending invasion of earth by aliens, I’ll give you a hearing but don’t expect to keep me interested for long. There’s passion, and then there’s obsession … and then there’s just plain weird!

The Old Testament prophet Jeremiah knew something about passion. He wept over his people and the message God had called him to bring to them. He was ignored and actively resisted what God asked him to do, but the passion God had placed in him forced him on—even against his own will sometimes. In Jeremiah 20:9, he says, But if I say I’ll never mention the Lord or speak in his name, his word burns in my heart like a fire. It’s like a fire in my bones! I am worn out trying to hold it in! I can’t do it!

When God places a passion in us, it needs to come out. It needs to find expression. Yet I meet people who wear themselves out holding their passion in. They have a whole raft of excuses: It’s not convenient, it’s not practical, what difference can I make? It’s impossible, I’ve got other things I need to do first, maybe later, when I’ve got myself sorted out.

But resist long enough and the fire begins to dwindle, the passion begins to fade. The only thing that won’t go away—the thing that will always haunt—is the memory of a passion you once had, but never acted on.

Of all the boring people I meet, I can’t help wondering how many of them have given away a passion that could have changed their lives and the lives of people around them.

By Barry Keane (abridged from War Cry, 20 October 2012, p3)