Push the Button
Last week’s blog post brought a fascinating array of feedback back to me. I read all of it, sometimes with hilarity, and sometimes soberly. I’m going to admit something to you though, I appreciated the negative comments as much as the positive ones.
What people said fell into four camps, out of which, two I really appreciated, one I was indifferent to, and one group deeply grieved my heart. The first camp was mainly from my people. You, my community. My like-minded friends who possess the same spirit we do. You are fierce, sold out, bold, and committed. You didn’t profess it to be perfect, but you liked what I said, and you liked how I said it. I didn’t so much mind if you liked what I said, but I was happy that you liked how I said it because I’m a storyteller. It’s my craft. It’s how I wield my sword.
The second group was the negative feedback that also touched on why you were unimpressed. I read it, and I appreciated it. I learned the most from it because some of you took the time to say why you didn’t like it. One person said it was disorganized, and yes. You are right. My writing is disorganized which of course mirrors my brain. I penciled that little nugget of truth, right into my mental notebook. It pleased me.
The third group was the ones who straight up missed the point and/or have poor reading comprehension. I was completely indifferent to your lamentations. They fell on deaf ears. I am sorry my little birds, I cannot pretend what is not there, although I cannot take personal credit for my hardness of heart. I hear from credible sources that enneagram 5s are notoriously hard to offend.
The fourth group is the one I’m going to talk to for a minute or three. Some of you didn’t like it because it touched your victimhood.
Sister, nobody chooses to be a victim. Nobody chooses to be sexually molested as a child, spiritually abused as an adult and hung out to dry by overzealous controlling spiritual leadership.
It just happens.
And once it happens, you become a victim.
Being a victim feels ok at first. Because you are so bruised and broken, you need others to come alongside you, spoonfeeding you the truth, carrying your triggers and sensitivities as gently as a bird which flew violently into a mirrored window. This period of time while important and healing should remain a very small period of time because very quickly it can turn toxic.
Now you are victimized. You believe (truthfully) that you have been wronged, and you believe (untruthfully) that you can’t do anything about it.
“If it’s not my fault, why should I take responsibility “ I’ve heard from some of you. You should because ain’t nobody else gonna, nor can anyone else. Nobody can set you free except the truth.
Let’s draw a mental picture of the role truth has in our lives. We are country mice stuck inside an elevator, twittering anxiously because the doors are tightly shut. How oh how will we get the doors to open and let us out? Truth comes sliding fearlessly down the elevator shaft, pokes its head into the top of the emergency door and says “push the button”. I am not actually sure how the country mice are supposed to reach the button, perhaps there is a broom handle leaning against the wall, but regardless, they push the button, the door opens, and they are free.
I heard you sigh just now as you said: “actually, it’s not that easy”.
But it is that easy.
Listen to truth and push the button. Just do it. You have nothing to lose except that sick, broken feeling inside you, and the voices that whisper in a cacophony of confusing noises inside your head keeping you convinced that the victimhood that you hide under like a blanket, is safer than freedom, taking responsibility and rushing out into the light.
The truth is not what those voices tell you.
“Blessed is the man who has made the LORD his trust, who has not turned to the proud, nor to those who lapse into falsehood!”
I am intimately acquainted with those voices. I listened to them for years.
“You have suffered more than most people have” it croons in your ear.
“It’s not your fault that no one seems to like you or get along with you”, it breathes.
After a while, the voice becomes your own. You’ve adopted the voice, taking within yourself the lie, no longer needing the Father of Lies to help you lie.
“Look at those women over there talking and laughing, why doesn’t anyone ever talk to me?”
“My husband is so emotionally abusive, why can’t he be like sisters husband who is so much nicer to her”.
“If I could just tell someone how I have been mistreated, I would feel so much better”.
There you go, lugging your 5-gallon buckets of condemnation, accusation, pain, bitterness, and dishonesty everywhere you go. Tell me, dear dear Sister, what does it mean to you when Jesus says “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light”. If that is not your testimony, go to him now and ask him why it isn’t. Be prepared to hear him when he speaks, because he speaks quieter than podcasts and self-help books. And when he speaks, it will not confuse or condemn you. He is peace and rest. In him, your soul can find comfort.
The truth is you can absolutely be free. Vengeance can be given into the Lords hands, and you can shake the dust from your feet and never again be under the thumb of victimhood. If you believe you are married to a deeply flawed man that is hurting you, take a big step back, look to Jesus, and let him fight for you.
I will not quantify why I speak with authority on this issue. It’s not necessary.
I am just a small Mom living on a tiny property on the edge of a town no one has ever heard of, fiercely staring into the screen, my typing fingers trying to keep up with my disorganized brain thats spitting out mice, buttons, and aching to bring you a picture of freedom that sparks a hunger in you, so deep and all consuming that you do not stop until you have reached your goal.
I am not a victim, because I pushed the button. You can too if you want it enough. How this looks for you, I do not know. But I do know the truth is always simple, never confusing, and usually requires obedience.
My children are my biggest reason that I seek to rise above victimhood, triggers, prejudices and biases. I came into marriage like 99% of you, very imperfect, to a man who had never had a wife or children before.
“17 Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth. 18 As You sent Me into the world, I also have sent them into the world. 19 For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they themselves also may be sanctified in truth.
20 “I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; 21 that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may [f]believe that You sent Me.”
And together we decided to have a family.
What the granola were we thinking?
We weren’t, you know. We were briskly making babies just like all our fruitful forefathers and mothers did before us.
And as our children grew, so did we. Facing up to the brutal truths. Seeing where we chose to walk in darkness instead of the light of Jesus and his truth. The more we were set free, the more our children flourished emotionally. Now that we have tasted the milk and honey, we refuse to live in anything but that state.
“Taste and see that the LORD is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!”
Disclaimer: Never do I ever attempt to address men or women who are being physically abused. I am not qualified to give you advice or direction, and the Lord has not given me light on the subject outside of my own experience in marriage.