Genuine

I turned in my mid-term to my teacher and with that burden off my shoulders I headed to the caf, where I would sit behind a table and try to get people to write letters.

Who writes letters anymore? Well, apparently, my college's Amnesty International chapter still believes in the trusty quill and parchment.

I sat down and decided the best way to convince others was to write one myself and do what teachers call "lead by example." I read the info sheet on who we were writing to and it turned out to be a pastor in Nepal who was receiving death threats from sex trafficking rings he had been busting. All the info sheet asked was to send him a word of encouragement.

That seems doable, right? All it takes is two sentences to encourage the guy.

Granted, both Ben--who was also helping at the table--and I wrote long letters, but that's because we were sitting there for a couple of hours and had time to go deeper.

Still, I was not expecting the responses we got from people.

To be fair, our pitch could have been different: when someone walked by we would ask "Would you like to write a letter?" and for the most part we got blank faces and had to explain. We changed tactics a couple of times and that made it better--a bit.

There rose different groups of people, though, and it was interesting to step into the psychology major's shoes and analyze the students.

Our favorite were the ones who stopped and wrote long letters. These were the vast minority of the people. Only like two or three actually wrote more than a paragraph, and it was good seeing them stop and take time to thank/encourage someone else for something that does not impact them in any relevant way whatsoever.

There were the students who stopped and wrote two sentences. These were the vast majority of people who actually wrote. Maybe in a rush, whether a genuine rush or just a rush to sit with their friends it doesn't matter, but they made the time to write the two sentences.

Then were the ones that said they would...later. Only one person who said they would later actually did come back later and wrote.

Then, there were the creative deniers. These were the ones who never actually said no, but between jokes and excuses they left and never wrote anything. One, for example, was the campus chaplain. When we asked him to write a letter, he said "Of course not!" in a sarcastic tone and laughed. Then he walked away. The most creative was a guy who made a movie script, essentially. He made a plan to stop whoever it was that was sending the threats using only a machete and other "household" items. Then he left.

Then there were the straight up deniers. Also in this category (sadly, all of them) were the Bible holders. I'm serious when all the ones who routinely carry their Bible and hold impromptu worships (some were holding the Bible at that moment) all said no. No questions asked. When we asked "Hey, do you want to help us out encouraging a pastor?" or "Would you like to write a letter to someone who needs it?" They all looked away, never stopped walking, and said, "No, not today." Of course, there were other people who did that, too.

The saddest group were the ones with illegitimate excuses. Like, "I'm hungry, though." Or, "I don't know this guy." We got more of those than you might think. This group was the vast majority.

Then, there were the ones with legitimate excuses. This is mid-term week, so when someone said "I'm headed to a test/study group," we let them pass.

Last, were the ones who were honest. They looked at us and said, "Honestly, no. I don't want to right now." Although they were denying us, I was thankful they were honest and was refreshed at their not trying to make an excuse as to why  not.

I thought it was interesting, so I thought I would share. Assuming, of course, you're still reading this . . .