Rod was what we called
“On fire for Christ.”
He believed in the Gospel
with everything he had.
When the pastor or deacons said,
“Go out and witness,”
Rod didn’t hesitate.
He went.

At work,
when coworkers made small talk,
Rod brought up Jesus.
He spoke of God’s goodness,
his own transformation,
his joy in the Lord.

But after a while,
his coworkers stopped talking to him.
His enthusiasm was real—
but it wore thin.

Rod wasn’t invited
to lunch anymore.
He wasn’t included
in birthday gatherings
or weekend plans.
They wouldn’t let poor Rod
join in any reindeer games.

Eventually, complaints reached management.
Supervisors tried to relocate him,
find a quieter corner for his zeal.
When that didn’t work,
they let him go.

At church,
Rod called it spiritual warfare.
He said he was being persecuted.
And maybe he was.
Or maybe
he was just lonely.
Or maybe both.

Because witness
isn’t always welcome.
Even when it’s sincere.
Even when it’s holy.

Rod bore witness.
Awkwardly.
Boldly.
Faithfully.

And maybe that, too,
was a kind of martyrdom.
Not of blood,
but of belonging.

If this offering stirred something in you—
a memory,
a question,
a flicker of light—
you are welcome to share
your reflection below.
No need for eloquence.
No need for certainty.
Just a lantern,
gently placed.