It’s been so long since my last entry; a lifetime in blog-world. It seems I have lived a lifetime in the real world too. Since Bingeing and Purging, I’ve become a divorced woman/new homeowner - both very scary things.
Within the span of a year my life has taken more dips and dives than a trick pilot. On September 1, I became a single woman after nearly 25 years of marriage. It is amazing the feeling of a 25-year-weight being lifted off one’s shoulders with a thump of a judge’s stamp. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy. I liken the divorce hearing to pulling out one’s intestines through the navel. Despite the ripping pain, when the aftermath subsided, there was a lightness that I’d not felt in a long time.
I didn’t realize how exhausting it is to wrestle oneself into submission in a marriage where one partner is consistently sabotaging the foundation.
The last few weeks have been like walking through a deep cavern without any visible shadow on the path of suffocating blackness. God’s Word was the only shards of light to guide me through this pervasive darkness; that and the broad shoulders of a few girlfriends known to me as DSTN and TWaD (long story) and the prayers of many friends and family. If any of you are reading this, bless you. I wouldn’t be sane without you.
I now enter the next phase of my journey to discover Abba’s Child as a “single woman.” A single woman wedded to Christ. What an honor to be His bride! I truly feel a honeymoon phase in my relationship with Him. After all, there is no other man competing with His affections, no other man to seek council from, and no other man to fulfill those quiet places within my soul.
Just my Jesus.
How sweet it is!
I still wrestle with guilt, but it subsides as I study what the Word says about divorce. I’m not talking just reading the Bible as is…I’m talking going back to the original Hebrew and Greek along with the divorce traditions of the time. What a difference it makes! So many churches and denominations wreck havoc on the abused seeking divorce to end the pain and bondage. As if heaping guilt and condemnation on the wounded will bring healing!
The night of the divorce, I sat before my Bible exhausted and unable to decide where to seek my solace in His Word. I did what I haven’t done in years. I asked the Lord to take me to a place in His Word just for me. I desperately needed to hear that He was close and knew my heart. I closed my eyes and opened my Bible to where it just happened to land.
Isaiah 14:3, “It shall come to pass in the day the Lord gives you rest from your sorrow, and from your fear, and the hard bondage in which you were made to serve…”
He knows.
He understands.
He heals.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Bingeing and Purging
I’ve seen my soon-to-be-ex cry quite a few times the last year, but never in front of a Realtor. We discussed our options for selling the house and that was the last straw in his already full back-pack of stressors. If we are LUCKY we’ll get a very small amount out of the house; hardly enough to start new lives.
So the myriad of plans, discussions, ideas, and purging started. I had no idea you could get so much “stuff” in one 1600 square foot house and garage. Frightening really. I finally had had enough of the trash collectors bilking us of our hard earned cash and decided a dumpster was a more economical idea. I had no idea you could get so much “stuff” in one dumpster.
I was wacked on the side of the head with the irony - cumulative stuff in a dumpster in the midst of a divorce. I kept waiting for the deep wracking sobs and grief that I’d heard can accompany such an undertaking. It didn’t materialize; even when we divided some of the family photos. There was just a sweet sense of “Awww…remember that?” My husband didn’t fare so well and excused himself several times. If I wasn’t sure I was done, that would have been a good indicator.
There are many reasons divorcing couples should not live under the same roof. I know most readers (if I have any) would be saying “duh” about now, but I thought we were more mature than that. More Godly, More…I don’t know…just more. I was wrong. I guess we’ve made it this long, so we should get some kind of award; but the stress of living with an angry husband became too much and those wracking sobs found their way to the surface last week. That was when the bingeing started. Mint Milano cookies do wonders when eaten under the covers.
I am trying very hard to wrestle myself into compassion and mercy for this man I’ve spent 24 years with. Despite the deceit and betrayal, I tell myself Jesus died for him too, so if He can love and accept, so should I, right? After all - the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in me so why can’t I raise my emotions from contempt and betrayal into the resurrection life of compassion and mercy.
I thought by living with him during this hellacious time, I would have this amazing testimony of how you can really “love” your enemy and forgive even if you can’t stay married.
Boy, I feel dumb.
My therapist, my friends, my co-workers thought I was crazy to stay under the same roof while trying to stay afloat financially. I think they were right. I definitely feel crazy…or just dumb.
On my next entry I’ll try to get out of my flesh and back to my search for Abba’s Child.
So the myriad of plans, discussions, ideas, and purging started. I had no idea you could get so much “stuff” in one 1600 square foot house and garage. Frightening really. I finally had had enough of the trash collectors bilking us of our hard earned cash and decided a dumpster was a more economical idea. I had no idea you could get so much “stuff” in one dumpster.
I was wacked on the side of the head with the irony - cumulative stuff in a dumpster in the midst of a divorce. I kept waiting for the deep wracking sobs and grief that I’d heard can accompany such an undertaking. It didn’t materialize; even when we divided some of the family photos. There was just a sweet sense of “Awww…remember that?” My husband didn’t fare so well and excused himself several times. If I wasn’t sure I was done, that would have been a good indicator.
There are many reasons divorcing couples should not live under the same roof. I know most readers (if I have any) would be saying “duh” about now, but I thought we were more mature than that. More Godly, More…I don’t know…just more. I was wrong. I guess we’ve made it this long, so we should get some kind of award; but the stress of living with an angry husband became too much and those wracking sobs found their way to the surface last week. That was when the bingeing started. Mint Milano cookies do wonders when eaten under the covers.
I am trying very hard to wrestle myself into compassion and mercy for this man I’ve spent 24 years with. Despite the deceit and betrayal, I tell myself Jesus died for him too, so if He can love and accept, so should I, right? After all - the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in me so why can’t I raise my emotions from contempt and betrayal into the resurrection life of compassion and mercy.
I thought by living with him during this hellacious time, I would have this amazing testimony of how you can really “love” your enemy and forgive even if you can’t stay married.
Boy, I feel dumb.
My therapist, my friends, my co-workers thought I was crazy to stay under the same roof while trying to stay afloat financially. I think they were right. I definitely feel crazy…or just dumb.
On my next entry I’ll try to get out of my flesh and back to my search for Abba’s Child.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Compassion and Mercy Can be ashes of Sacrifice
My one constant prayer during this journey is, “Jesus, help me see Truth in all this.” That is a big prayer. I guess I didn’t say which truth, did I. In His infinite grace and faithfulness, He uncovered truth in my marriage, and to my surprise…truth in me.
I truly want to understand where my enemy weeps. Perhaps that will help me understand why the “enemy” chooses to wound.
Will that change his character?
No.
Will it change my decision?
No.
My understanding and planting seeds of compassion and mercy doesn’t change my enemy; however it does change me.
Whatever happened to compassion and mercy in the church? Oh we have plenty for the world, but what of it amongst ourselves? When does the “Pharisee” malignancy start? Perhaps it is a form of religious dementia. We forget where we came from and the pit He pulled us out of.
Most pastoral counseling I received on this journey has been “Be submitted and obedient. God blesses these.” The other very annoying counsel was, “Sometimes marriage is just a sacrifice.” I sacrificed and died to my flesh more times than I can count. Did it change my marriage? I’m not real sure. I know it changed me. I know that one day, if God wills, I remarry, I will be a much better wife and life partner because I’ve learned from this.
Marriage is a road riddled with sacrifice – kind of like a well-traveled highway. Some sacrifices are small and barely noticeable in the matrimonial pavement; like giving a kind word instead of a snide remark, or ignoring a criticism knowing your spouse is under stress. Other sacrifices are potholes so big we lose ourselves, like in an affair, financial infidelity, or abandonment.
No matter how big or small, all sacrifices have one thing in common. Something has to die. By bonfire or a knife in the heart, death is the main ingredient.
I truly want to understand where my enemy weeps. Perhaps that will help me understand why the “enemy” chooses to wound.
Will that change his character?
No.
Will it change my decision?
No.
My understanding and planting seeds of compassion and mercy doesn’t change my enemy; however it does change me.
Whatever happened to compassion and mercy in the church? Oh we have plenty for the world, but what of it amongst ourselves? When does the “Pharisee” malignancy start? Perhaps it is a form of religious dementia. We forget where we came from and the pit He pulled us out of.
Most pastoral counseling I received on this journey has been “Be submitted and obedient. God blesses these.” The other very annoying counsel was, “Sometimes marriage is just a sacrifice.” I sacrificed and died to my flesh more times than I can count. Did it change my marriage? I’m not real sure. I know it changed me. I know that one day, if God wills, I remarry, I will be a much better wife and life partner because I’ve learned from this.
Marriage is a road riddled with sacrifice – kind of like a well-traveled highway. Some sacrifices are small and barely noticeable in the matrimonial pavement; like giving a kind word instead of a snide remark, or ignoring a criticism knowing your spouse is under stress. Other sacrifices are potholes so big we lose ourselves, like in an affair, financial infidelity, or abandonment.
No matter how big or small, all sacrifices have one thing in common. Something has to die. By bonfire or a knife in the heart, death is the main ingredient.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Pharisee vs The Child
I’ve been a Pharisee more times than I care to count. I’m embarrassed to view myself this way, but I must in order to give all legalism within me its walking papers. Let’s look at the comparison of a child of God - meaning one that has that childlike joy of the Love of God - to the all-knowing, all-seeing, oh-so-perfect Pharisee.
The Pharisee - Sees the Word as a manual of instructions
The Child - Sees the Word as love letters
The Pharisee - Sees God as a bookkeeper of wrongs
The Child - Sees God as a loving parent who overlooks childlike mistakes
The Pharisee - Demands sacrifice and obedience
The Child - Delights in mercy
The Pharisee - Uses fear of displeasing God as a means of manipulation
The Child - Doesn’t understand how you can displease a loving Father
The Pharisee - Blames, accuses and uses guilt and points fingers
The Child - Points the finger into the heavens and delights at what he or she finds
The Pharisee - Has a consummate gift of noticing the speck in another’s eye
The Child – Helps the other person bath the eye until the speck is removed
The Pharisee - Believes keeping the law earns God’s love
The Child - Believes being loved by God helps motivate one to keep the law
The Pharisee – Pursues a lifestyle that minimizes mistakes
The Child - Makes mistakes and learns from them
The Pharisee – Surrenders control of their soul to rules
The Child - Surrenders control of their soul to Jesus
The Pharisee – Has a fascination with honor and power
The Child - Doesn’t care
The Pharisee – Emphasizes personal effort and achievement
The Child - Emphasizes exuberant joy at God’s love
The Pharisee – Edits feelings and makes stereotyped responses to life’s situations
The Child - Is aware of his or her feelings and loves to express them
The Pharisee - Represses emotions
The Child - Is spontaneous with emotions
The Pharisee – Loves labels
The Child - Can’t read them
The Pharisee – Dominates people and situations to increase prestige, influence, and reputation
The Child - Accepts people out of sheer delight of who they are
The Pharisee – Seeks to master God
The Child - Wants to be mastered by God
*Paraphrased from Abba’s Child By Brennan Manning.
**Just my random thoughts
For years, I’ve been dominated and mastered by Pharisees in the church. They counseled me to be submitted and obedient and God would bless me. This is true; however there are times when submission to the Lord is more important than submission to a perceived mandate (i.e. the institution of marriage is more important than the individual). I always thought these leaders knew better because they had the mantle/title of pastor or leader. They were merely a Pharisee in hiding.
I feel like I’ve been untangling a large knotted ball of twine the last few years. It is exhausting to figure out which way the knot goes and which way to pull it out - Am I in sin, am I not? Is the sin of divorce worse than the sin of lying or stealing? Will God still love and bless me as a divorced woman because I was the initiator of the horrible deed?
It is like a monumental sifting process.
I’ve forgotten how to be a child of God. I’ve been a Pharisee looking in the mirror.
The Pharisee - Sees the Word as a manual of instructions
The Child - Sees the Word as love letters
The Pharisee - Sees God as a bookkeeper of wrongs
The Child - Sees God as a loving parent who overlooks childlike mistakes
The Pharisee - Demands sacrifice and obedience
The Child - Delights in mercy
The Pharisee - Uses fear of displeasing God as a means of manipulation
The Child - Doesn’t understand how you can displease a loving Father
The Pharisee - Blames, accuses and uses guilt and points fingers
The Child - Points the finger into the heavens and delights at what he or she finds
The Pharisee - Has a consummate gift of noticing the speck in another’s eye
The Child – Helps the other person bath the eye until the speck is removed
The Pharisee - Believes keeping the law earns God’s love
The Child - Believes being loved by God helps motivate one to keep the law
The Pharisee – Pursues a lifestyle that minimizes mistakes
The Child - Makes mistakes and learns from them
The Pharisee – Surrenders control of their soul to rules
The Child - Surrenders control of their soul to Jesus
The Pharisee – Has a fascination with honor and power
The Child - Doesn’t care
The Pharisee – Emphasizes personal effort and achievement
The Child - Emphasizes exuberant joy at God’s love
The Pharisee – Edits feelings and makes stereotyped responses to life’s situations
The Child - Is aware of his or her feelings and loves to express them
The Pharisee - Represses emotions
The Child - Is spontaneous with emotions
The Pharisee – Loves labels
The Child - Can’t read them
The Pharisee – Dominates people and situations to increase prestige, influence, and reputation
The Child - Accepts people out of sheer delight of who they are
The Pharisee – Seeks to master God
The Child - Wants to be mastered by God
*Paraphrased from Abba’s Child By Brennan Manning.
**Just my random thoughts
For years, I’ve been dominated and mastered by Pharisees in the church. They counseled me to be submitted and obedient and God would bless me. This is true; however there are times when submission to the Lord is more important than submission to a perceived mandate (i.e. the institution of marriage is more important than the individual). I always thought these leaders knew better because they had the mantle/title of pastor or leader. They were merely a Pharisee in hiding.
I feel like I’ve been untangling a large knotted ball of twine the last few years. It is exhausting to figure out which way the knot goes and which way to pull it out - Am I in sin, am I not? Is the sin of divorce worse than the sin of lying or stealing? Will God still love and bless me as a divorced woman because I was the initiator of the horrible deed?
It is like a monumental sifting process.
I’ve forgotten how to be a child of God. I’ve been a Pharisee looking in the mirror.
Friday, July 2, 2010
The "C" Word
My new friend, the childlike part of me, had a serious jolt today by that dreaded word “Cancer” invading my safe place. The mother that brought me forth, gave me life, nurtured, cuddled, and kissed away ouchies has bladder cancer. What a horrible word. It is treatable, thank the Lord, but it is scary nonetheless and makes me realize how fragile these gifts, parents, are to us.
The newly-found child within me wanted to run from these new shadows imprinted on my walls. Not now, Lord. Not now when I so desperately need her nurturing, cuddles, and to kiss away my new ouchies.
As I helped her with her catheters and showering I was seized by shifting circumstances. Just 40+ years ago she was doing much the same for me (minus the catheter). Being this intimate with my mother brings such a vulnerability to our relationship. There is a sweet sadness to it, if that makes sense.
I am catapulted back to my insecurities as a little one in this house. Fear of abandonment was a big thing with me. Don’t know why, really. My mom was a stay-at-home mom while dad was a hero fighting fires. I remember having nightmares of my mom leaving me in a car in a parking lot and having large statues (one looked remarkably like the Statue of Liberty) fall on the car. It was a recurring dream and I’ve never discovered its significance. I always attributed it to the usual childhood fears.
That same fear whispered in my ear today - abandonment. Just when I need my mom most. Am I really this narcissistic? My mother is battling cancer and I’m worried about being abandoned. The adult in me knows that she has a 70% chance of beating this…a good odd in today’s cancer percentages. But the child in me sees her locking me in the car, walking away, and statues falling in slow motion.
I was hoping to connect with the Dana-child that danced endlessly and sang at the top of her voice putting on shows for anyone willing to sit in the same room. Not this Dana-child. I wanted to find the Dana-child that was completely soaked in her emotions, giving in to them at will. Not the teen-adult Dana that was told her feelings and perceptions about abuse were wrong and sick.
In Brennan Manning’s book, Abba’s Child (is anyone tired of me quoting this new favorite toy?) said, “To ignore, repress, or dismiss our feelings is to fail to listen to the stirrings of the Spirit within our emotional life. The Son of Man did not scorn or reject feelings as fickle and unreliable. They were sensitive emotional antennae to which He listened carefully and through which He perceived the will of His Father for congruent speech and action.”
What a concept!! To actually stop an abuser in their assault before any damage is done. To tell a husband early on that stealing is wrong and lying is an abomination to a marriage. To stomp one’s adult-foot and say “Get out” if sin is a continual threat to the family.
If I had grasped this 35+ years ago until now I wonder how different I’d be.
I wonder where I’d be.
I read somewhere that if a brook did not have rocks in it the water would lose its song.
I guess that just means that this child within and the adult without have a lot of singing to do!
The newly-found child within me wanted to run from these new shadows imprinted on my walls. Not now, Lord. Not now when I so desperately need her nurturing, cuddles, and to kiss away my new ouchies.
As I helped her with her catheters and showering I was seized by shifting circumstances. Just 40+ years ago she was doing much the same for me (minus the catheter). Being this intimate with my mother brings such a vulnerability to our relationship. There is a sweet sadness to it, if that makes sense.
I am catapulted back to my insecurities as a little one in this house. Fear of abandonment was a big thing with me. Don’t know why, really. My mom was a stay-at-home mom while dad was a hero fighting fires. I remember having nightmares of my mom leaving me in a car in a parking lot and having large statues (one looked remarkably like the Statue of Liberty) fall on the car. It was a recurring dream and I’ve never discovered its significance. I always attributed it to the usual childhood fears.
That same fear whispered in my ear today - abandonment. Just when I need my mom most. Am I really this narcissistic? My mother is battling cancer and I’m worried about being abandoned. The adult in me knows that she has a 70% chance of beating this…a good odd in today’s cancer percentages. But the child in me sees her locking me in the car, walking away, and statues falling in slow motion.
I was hoping to connect with the Dana-child that danced endlessly and sang at the top of her voice putting on shows for anyone willing to sit in the same room. Not this Dana-child. I wanted to find the Dana-child that was completely soaked in her emotions, giving in to them at will. Not the teen-adult Dana that was told her feelings and perceptions about abuse were wrong and sick.
In Brennan Manning’s book, Abba’s Child (is anyone tired of me quoting this new favorite toy?) said, “To ignore, repress, or dismiss our feelings is to fail to listen to the stirrings of the Spirit within our emotional life. The Son of Man did not scorn or reject feelings as fickle and unreliable. They were sensitive emotional antennae to which He listened carefully and through which He perceived the will of His Father for congruent speech and action.”
What a concept!! To actually stop an abuser in their assault before any damage is done. To tell a husband early on that stealing is wrong and lying is an abomination to a marriage. To stomp one’s adult-foot and say “Get out” if sin is a continual threat to the family.
If I had grasped this 35+ years ago until now I wonder how different I’d be.
I wonder where I’d be.
I read somewhere that if a brook did not have rocks in it the water would lose its song.
I guess that just means that this child within and the adult without have a lot of singing to do!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Visiting Haunted Places
In the middle of this pilgrimage, I find myself in my childhood home to care for my mother after surgery. Soon the worry of her health and the logistics of appointments recede and I am sitting in my room as a different person than the woman that left to go on her honeymoon. Oh it isn’t the last time I found myself in her home; but it is the last time since I was stepping out to a new beginning.
Here I am again. Only this time instead of hope, excitement, and dreams of white picket fences, I’m scared, lonely, and wondering if I’m going to spend the rest of my life crammed into two rooms.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I am often haunted by the proverbial “What If’s” that all us humans wrestle with. What if I’d taken that job and moved? What if I’d said ‘yes’ my first love? What if I hadn’t married my husband? You know the ones. Those deep, thought-provoking questions that do nothing but haunt us like the shadows on the walls during the night when we were children. There is no real harm in them per say except the images that spring to mind and wrap us in a vice-like grip keep us from drifting to sleep…or keep us from moving forward in life.
I sat with my daughter tonight looking through old photo albums when I was her age. Ahh, now there is a part of the young woman I misplaced. Except this one had a few secret pains as well, but there was more of the little girl present back then. Now, the little girl is a shadow-thought. Kind of like the shadows on the wall of my room as a child.
It is so like the Lord to bring me here during this season. God is good and even has a sense of humor! I’ve caught glimpses of the shadow-child on the walls just before I sleep. The difference between then and now is that I’m not afraid of them. I welcome them.
Here I am again. Only this time instead of hope, excitement, and dreams of white picket fences, I’m scared, lonely, and wondering if I’m going to spend the rest of my life crammed into two rooms.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I am often haunted by the proverbial “What If’s” that all us humans wrestle with. What if I’d taken that job and moved? What if I’d said ‘yes’ my first love? What if I hadn’t married my husband? You know the ones. Those deep, thought-provoking questions that do nothing but haunt us like the shadows on the walls during the night when we were children. There is no real harm in them per say except the images that spring to mind and wrap us in a vice-like grip keep us from drifting to sleep…or keep us from moving forward in life.
I sat with my daughter tonight looking through old photo albums when I was her age. Ahh, now there is a part of the young woman I misplaced. Except this one had a few secret pains as well, but there was more of the little girl present back then. Now, the little girl is a shadow-thought. Kind of like the shadows on the wall of my room as a child.
It is so like the Lord to bring me here during this season. God is good and even has a sense of humor! I’ve caught glimpses of the shadow-child on the walls just before I sleep. The difference between then and now is that I’m not afraid of them. I welcome them.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Abba’s Child
I wonder if God likes me. Not loves me like the Bible says He does or like the song “Jesus love me this I know”. I mean LIKES me.
Isaiah 49:15 says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.” I vividly remember nursing my babies. It was one of the most tender, loving, bonding times I’ve ever had with them. It was the one time, besides their stay in my womb, that they were attached to me physically for their survival. I remember watching their little mouths work and their sweet lashes resting on their cheeks in blissful contentment. The wonderment and love that swelled through me was tangible.
Is it like that with Him? When He see’s our head bowed, eyes closed, mouths working in our supplications to Him, does He feel that same wonderment? I believe He does. For His great love for us He gave His ONLY son to die for us.
I couldn’t do that. No one hurts my son if I can help it. He is the first light of my life from my life. Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone.
Yes, my Abba likes me very much. As a matter of fact, He is very fond of me.
But how does my Abba feel toward those who have wounded His suckling babes?
The same way. Matthew 5:45 says, “…for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”
Darn it!
What about the wolves who ravage His sheep?
Ditto.
We’re not talking about consequences here…for there are consequences to those who wound or ravage His little ones. I’m talking Love. The same way He loves me.
This one is so hard to swallow, but swallow this medicine I must. For this understanding is the same well that forgiveness feeds from. Tasting like compassion, this medicine becomes forgiveness when we allow it to soak into our spirit and soul.
Soaking takes time.
I have walked this same rocky terrain in my marriage for over 20 years. Even after multiple betrayals, I finally taste a bit of compassion. Forgiveness started its long journey through my soul; but it has so many more places to soak.
So why not wait to divorce? Wait to allow time for forgiveness to have its complete work? Because, unfortunately, it won’t change the behavior that keeps getting me in this mess. That is the understanding I came to the last time this happened 7 years ago; however, I was willing to be willing to stay if certain boundaries were agreed upon and followed. Yes, the little girl finally had the courage to say “no more.”
I’ve discovered even when we give forgiveness a road map through our soul, there are consequences to sin. This is where I am now - dealing with the consequences of another’s choices and sin.
It sucks.
But I am determined to allow the compassion to blossom and forgiveness to have its complete work; regardless of my husband’s change in his behavior. My forgiveness is not based on his behaviors. One of my new favorite quotes is, “The heartfelt compassion that hastens forgiveness matures when we discover where our enemy cries.”*
That is how I forgave my father. The Lord showed me where he cried as a young boy. The Lord is also showing me where my husband’s wounds have opened the door to deceit in varying forms. This doesn’t give him an excuse for the behaviors; but it does give me the door to walk through and offer a precious gift that my Savior modeled as He hung on that cross and looked upon those crucifying him.
I have a long road and a lot of soaking to do!
*Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
Isaiah 49:15 says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.” I vividly remember nursing my babies. It was one of the most tender, loving, bonding times I’ve ever had with them. It was the one time, besides their stay in my womb, that they were attached to me physically for their survival. I remember watching their little mouths work and their sweet lashes resting on their cheeks in blissful contentment. The wonderment and love that swelled through me was tangible.
Is it like that with Him? When He see’s our head bowed, eyes closed, mouths working in our supplications to Him, does He feel that same wonderment? I believe He does. For His great love for us He gave His ONLY son to die for us.
I couldn’t do that. No one hurts my son if I can help it. He is the first light of my life from my life. Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone.
Yes, my Abba likes me very much. As a matter of fact, He is very fond of me.
But how does my Abba feel toward those who have wounded His suckling babes?
The same way. Matthew 5:45 says, “…for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”
Darn it!
What about the wolves who ravage His sheep?
Ditto.
We’re not talking about consequences here…for there are consequences to those who wound or ravage His little ones. I’m talking Love. The same way He loves me.
This one is so hard to swallow, but swallow this medicine I must. For this understanding is the same well that forgiveness feeds from. Tasting like compassion, this medicine becomes forgiveness when we allow it to soak into our spirit and soul.
Soaking takes time.
I have walked this same rocky terrain in my marriage for over 20 years. Even after multiple betrayals, I finally taste a bit of compassion. Forgiveness started its long journey through my soul; but it has so many more places to soak.
So why not wait to divorce? Wait to allow time for forgiveness to have its complete work? Because, unfortunately, it won’t change the behavior that keeps getting me in this mess. That is the understanding I came to the last time this happened 7 years ago; however, I was willing to be willing to stay if certain boundaries were agreed upon and followed. Yes, the little girl finally had the courage to say “no more.”
I’ve discovered even when we give forgiveness a road map through our soul, there are consequences to sin. This is where I am now - dealing with the consequences of another’s choices and sin.
It sucks.
But I am determined to allow the compassion to blossom and forgiveness to have its complete work; regardless of my husband’s change in his behavior. My forgiveness is not based on his behaviors. One of my new favorite quotes is, “The heartfelt compassion that hastens forgiveness matures when we discover where our enemy cries.”*
That is how I forgave my father. The Lord showed me where he cried as a young boy. The Lord is also showing me where my husband’s wounds have opened the door to deceit in varying forms. This doesn’t give him an excuse for the behaviors; but it does give me the door to walk through and offer a precious gift that my Savior modeled as He hung on that cross and looked upon those crucifying him.
I have a long road and a lot of soaking to do!
*Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
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