One reason I had difficulty with Christians, was one of my abusers was put in a position of authority, if you will, at his church. I was angry, because I didn't understand how he could do that without cleaning up the mess with me. This affected my whole view. Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven? I hadn't forgiven him. It didn't make sense. But it's not my place to judge?
In the last year I have seen the struggles of believers. I have heard the stories. The other night I heard a pastor say, "I fight the same battles that all of you fight. You ask how that can be, because I am a minister? But we are all ministers."
Life isn't easy because you decide to turn your life over. In some ways I believe it gets more difficult. When I was living the way I wanted, not giving any thought to God, Satan left me alone most of the time. I was no threat. As long as he could keep me drinking and engaging in all the other habits and addictions, I was down and out of the way. Since I have truly turned my life over, I have seen the enemy like never before. Believers are people trying to develop a deeper relationship with God. As they do that, dealing with life gets easier, even when life may not get easier. There is a peace and hope during the storms.
Years ago, I confronted one of my abusers. I had read a book on it and without putting a lot of thought into it, I got in the car and drove to his house. The book said that most of the time an abuser will react in one of two ways. He will either drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, truly sorry for his actions, or he will deny the whole thing and accuse the victim of making the whole thing up in their head. They will call the victim crazy. This is exactly what happened. It totally validated me. After that, whenever I saw him, he looked at the ground and I didn't anymore.
This last year, a few months into facing the abuse, my anger got the best of me and I wanted them to pay. One night, I wrote Dave an email with little detail, telling him that I was going to have a face off and giving him instructions if I didn't return. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but there was going to be a confrontation with the one who started it all. It was an hour drive to his house and on the way there I thought about all the affects being molested had on my life. I was "out of my mind" angry. I was listening to music from my past that put me in the frame of mind I needed to get revenge. Then suddenly as I neared his house, I couldn't find anything on the radio or on my CD's that I wanted to hear. I gave up pushing buttons when the radio was on a Christian music station. The song Beautiful by Mercy Me played. One line really stood out to me. "You are more than what is hurting you tonight." I turned the car toward home and totally blamed Dave for praying protection over him. Who's side was he on anyway?
Dave explained he had prayed protection over me. Not him. Once I calmed down, that made sense. I didn't want to cry because in my mind, it meant they won. I would trade tears for anger, because at least I felt strong when I was angry.
I was angry at Christians, because I felt like they had let him in, but I didn't fit in. Strange ways our minds work. He was accepted and I wasn't. He was okay and I wasn't. For years I believed Christians or believers thought they were better than the rest of us. But what they didn't seem to know, was that really bad people were among them. People who did really bad things. Not just abusers, but a lot of the drunks I hung out with got up the next morning and went to church like that made it all better. I learned that religion is not the same thing as a relationship with Jesus. I realized, I had to forgive on a much deeper level.
Not one of God's children can be evil. At worst, he or she is hurt. At worst, he or she attacks others, and blames them for their pain. But, they are not evil.
Yes, your compassion must go this deep. There is no human being who does not deserve your forgiveness. There is no human being who does not deserve your love.
I'm not better than, I'm as good as.
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