Loyalty Is Everything

Yes, Everything. (Things That Matter #11)

If there’s one principle I’ll bleed for, it’s loyalty. I don’t care how cool you are, how talented, how charming, or how much guac you bring to the party, if you’re disloyal, I’m out. Adios! Sayonara! Later! No, you know what? I may not even actually say goodbye. I’ll just kick the dust off and move on. As the old song says, “I get knocked down, I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down.” (I feel kinda cringe for writing that last sentence, but oh well!)

Loyalty, to me, is sacred. And maybe that makes me old-fashioned or something. If so, I’m fine with it. Because the truth is: I’ve had too many people smile in my face while being cowards inside. One minute you think you’ve got a ride-or-die but then you hit one of life’s potholes, and suddenly, as Tupac once said, “I try to find my friends, but they’re blowin’ in the wind.” (Maybe I should try to end each paragraph with a song lyric!)

In Scripture, the concept of covenant is the central operating motif. And if you pay attention, loyalty is the heartbeat of the covenant. God makes a covenant with his people right from the jump, and they break it faster than a middle school relationship. Israel is like that friend who promises to help you move and then “forgets” to charge their phone the day of. God stays faithful; God’s people stay flaky. (I don’t know a song with the lyric “flaky” in it.)

In the New Testament, the disciples weren’t any better. Peter said he’d die with Jesus, then bailed before the rooster even finished its fourth crow. Judas sold out for some coins. And somehow, this is the group Jesus chose to build his church. I had high school group projects go better and you know how much those suck! I guess, at least in school, the slackers didn’t pretend they were laying down their lives to build a Rube Goldberg Machine.

I’ve experienced disloyalty, too. A lot. I’ve had people stand with me at my wedding who are now nowhere to be found. I’ve had family members do me dirty and friends cross me. And I’ve met more than enough “Christians,” especially church “leaders,” who remind me why Jesus flipped tables. Let’s just call it like it is: most Christian institutions are held together by duct tape, denial, and a staff with zero training in how to lead. They’re often fronted by people who couldn’t disciple their way out anything. No training, no wisdom, no integrity. Just vibes and a vision board. Just cool haircuts and sneakers. And if you try to challenge them, they’ll quote a verse out of context and ask you to fast for “clarity.” Seriously, this is almost every so-called Christian “leader” I’ve ever met.

I know many people who’ve been wronged and wounded by these kinds of egotistical maniacs. I have, too. And so, I’ve had to learn how to hold both grief and grit together. At times, I’ve discovered that I stayed loyal to people who forgot I existed. I’ve defended people who couldn’t tell you where I live or work. I’ve walked through fire for people who later said, “You’re being dramatic!” I’ve promoted people and helped them take their first professional steps but have never received anything in return. BUT I don’t regret being loyal. Not once. Why? Because loyalty is a reflection of the God I serve. He doesn’t flinch when we fail. He stays. He, in himself, is loyal. That’s part of his nature, his character. So, it’s part of mine.

I’ve seen this in the comedy world, too. Some comics act like it’s all love, but the minute you get booked on a show they wanted or thought they deserved, it’s like you kicked their dog and then made merch about it. There’s definitely fake support in this arena. There are people who secretly clap when you bomb and some who rant loudly about it. Don’t get me wrong, there are a few who’ll cheer when you kill. But it’s important to find someone who’s real, who watches your set and gives honest notes, who laughs even when they’ve heard it before, who roots for you when nobody’s watching. That’s gold. And there are many clans or groups popping up in the comedy world showing us that, those who are loyal to one another, can create powerful movements.

If you haven’t picked up what I’m saying yet, let me be clear here: I am loyal, but I am not a doormat. I am hardcore about this fact of life: I will not let people manipulate me, gaslight me, or ask me to co-sign on their emotional pyramid schemes. I’m loyal, but if people start swinging, I will absolutely toss a match on that bridge and roast marshmallows over the ashes. Let me put it this way, y’all: forgiveness is free; access is not.

The flip is this: if you are loyal to me, you will not find someone more in your corner. Ever. I will love you, show up for you, defend you, make you laugh through tears, and check on you when the whole world forgets. I will challenge you, push you, and stand or sit with you. I will text first. I will remember the thing you said in passing. I will drive or fly across state lines to have your back. That’s precisely why, in our vows, my wife and I both said to each other, “I promise to always have your back.” That’s the kinda people we are. That’s the kinda person I am.

Loyalty is everything. It doesn’t mean we always have to agree. It doesn’t mean we never get hurt or piss each other off. It just means when we do, we still choose to stay real and committed to each other. It means we talk it out, hug it out, cry it out, pray it out, and maybe even laugh about it when we’re old and our knees sound like bubble wrap. I’ll take loyalty over talent, popularity, charisma, or clout any day of the week. Loyalty won’t trend, but it’ll hold you when the rest of your world goes eerily silent.

Over the last year-and-a-half, I’ve been through Hell and back. I’ve dealt with major controversies. I’ve been publicly maligned, mocked, bullied, name-called, etc. Some of the stuff in private, out of the public eye, has been even worse. I stood for what I believed. Meanwhile, a thousand cowards around me melted like the Nazarene wax they’re made out of. They had no backbone. These weasels caved to the pressure. They weren’t loyal. They were users. Sham pastors and ministers and directors and superintendents not worthy of the ink their weak ordination credentials were printed with. And they let me take all the hits for them. I saw it. God saw. And one day, they’ll have to answer for it.

During that time, a local female minister said to me, “You need to stop because you might be right, but you’re gonna be right all alone.” I told her, “I’ll never be alone. God is always with me.” Not only did I put her in her place, I realized in that moment that she exposed the fact that she has no sense of loyalty. Look, if I have to stand “alone,” at least in human terms, for the rest of my life, to keep my principles like this one, then fine. I’ll stand firm with my convictions and people who actually mean what they say.

Because, during that tough season, there were a handful who stood with me. A small remnant that stayed loyal. A few faithful who rode with me no matter what. And I will forever remember them, be grateful for them, and have their backs when the time comes. Because that’s what it means to be loyal. And while loyalty doesn’t always make life easier, it definitely makes it worth it.