The Book That Made Me Sick - A Review of Unholy Charade by Jeff Crippen

I cannot remember the last time a book made me sick. I don’t mean metaphorically. I am talking about head splitting, gut churning, chest aching sick. I wanted to put it down, to stop reading, and quit inflicting this level of torture on myself, but every time I cast it aside in disgust, I found my hands reaching for it again. Sometimes I read spellbound, a prisoner of its words, and other times I rapidly skimmed through paragraphs as if I could defect the blows of what was printed there.

It took me three days to wade through the dense pages. Not because it was difficult to read, but rather it was agonizing to relive the memories of another time in my life, ripped from the forgotten recess of my mind and now splashed across my consciousness. This was no thriller, although for sheer horror Stephen King has nothing on this book.  No, this was an unflinching look at the mindset and methodology of an abuser, the sheer lack of understanding exhibited by many in church leadership, and how incorrect application of Scripture has kept may victims of domestic violence bound to their abusers.

In the years that have passed since I escaped my own abusive marriage, I have lost count of how many books I have read describing the dynamics of abusive relationships, but none have come close to the accuracy presented by Jeff Crippen in his book Unholy Charade: Unmasking The Domestic Abuser In The Church.

Nor does stop there, Crippen goes on to address how and why abuse is such a problem within the Christian community. He tears open the lies that so many abuse victims have been told about why abuse is to be ignored, accepted, and even a part of God’s plan for their lives. He explains how the Church has re-victimized those who seek help, and have sometimes even become complicit in the devastation of the lives of so many men and women who turned to Christian leadership for answers.

Crippen is no coward. He names names, and he decimates the arguments of popular Christian preachers and teachers that would require unconditional submission to abuse in the name of Christianity.  He exposes the lies and counters with the truth. He refutes cherry picked verses and clichés with sound exegesis and by placing those verses within their proper context so that we can see that God’s design for marriage make no provision for a person violence – be it physical, emotional, or sexual violence. He tackles the thorny issues that are rarely addressed from today’s pulpits. Issues such as to who is a real Christian and how can you tell who is one, what is repentance and how can you see if it is true, when is church discipline appropriate and why aren’t we utilizing this God sanctioned responsibility of our community of faith.

Crippen presents the marriage covenant as part of the Christian experience and not some separate entity that abides by its own set of rules with no bearing in or obligation to adhering to the Biblical standards we impose upon other relationships within the Church.  He does not present marriage as exemption from being living examples of Christ’s love to one another or to ourselves. And in doing so, he robs the abuser of their power to use Christianity as leverage against their victims.

Two things stood out to me as former victim of abuse:

1. Crippen does not espouse unthinking submission of a wife to an abuser. He understands that abusers do not respect, value, or love anyone they perceive as weak and therefore worthy of abuse. Instead, he offers Biblical guidelines to help women discern when submission is wrong or dangerous.

2. The manner in which Crippen addresses the issue of divorce. He builds his case thoughtfully and in a balanced manner, placing individual teachings within the context of totality of Scripture so that we might have proper understanding of what the Bible really has to say about divorce.

The book is well documented on many fronts. Scripture is scattered liberally throughout the book, footnotes abound, and testimonials are highlighted on each page. This is not a book of opinion or speculation. It is rooted deep in the Truth of God’s love for each of us while revealing the pitfalls of those who fail to move past the trite answers of a Church that turns a blind eye to the ugly realities of living in a fallen world. The almost expected sentimental idolization of marriage found in the majority of Christian books on marriage is, thankfully, nowhere to be found in the pages this book. Instead, Crippen looks the ugliness of abuse square in the eye and calls it what it is – sin.

I can overstate how much I believe that this book should be on everyone’s must read list. Even if you are not or have never been in an abusive relationship, the insights into how such a relationship functions are among the best I have ever read and will be an invaluable tool in caring for those who have had to walk this path. I would further urge everyone to not only purchase a copy for themselves, but to also to buy one for the leadership of your church body. As a whole, the Church has failed to meet the needs or address the issue of abuse in a Biblical or knowledgeable manner, and I believe sharing this book is one small step to correcting our errors on this front.

Purchase your copy on Amazon. Unholy Charade: Unmasking the Domestic Abuser in the Church

Divorce: The Great Church Idol - An Emily Rant

It happened again today. I answered the phone to hear another woman crying. We had a fight. He left. I don’t know what to do. Should I stay? Should I go? Am I honoring my wedding vows by remaining? Am I enabling his behavior by not leaving? I am trying, should I try harder? He’s great guy. He has so much potential. Life is stressful, chaotic, and he would never behave this way if things just weren’t so hard right now. Money is tight, the job is hell, and we just haven’t been able to have sex as often as we did before we had the kids. I know this is weighing on him, but I don’t know how long I can keep being the strong one. I am trying to be supportive, but I am at the end of my rope too. I told him that but he won’t hear me, he won’t listen, and I am afraid I am being too demanding. I hate telling you this, I don’t want to make him look bad, and I feel like I am failing at my marriage.

The conversation is always the same, and when I tell people this the assumption is always the same – this must not be a strong Christian woman, this has to be non-believer, or someone new to the faith. Good Christian girls don’t end up in these situations, and if they do, then they pray through, fight for their marriage, and will be rewarded with a miracle.

To all of you who think this way, I want to say one thing – YOU ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM.

Now, don’t go acting all sanctimonious on me. I know that this is not what you are wanting to hear, but it is time you get a clue. So just consider me your very own little clue dispenser. Glad to be at your service.

But, Emily, I support the sanctity of marriage. Divorce is a horrible, evil blight upon our society - *cue the rattling off of statistical data and appropriate Bible verses.*

Please, don’t bore me. I have heard it all before, and so has everyone else. So instead of repeating a bunch of regurgitated, one sided, short sighted, and Biblically inaccurate bull crap, let’s have a new conversation. Let’s talk about the women who have died, the kids who grew up in toxic homes, and all the wife-zombies out there. What? Never heard of a wife-zombie?

A wife-zombie is that woman in your church who can parrot all the proper Christian jargon about what it means to be a good Christian, how to run a good Christian home, and the grand prescriptions about how to be a good Christian wife. She smiles at all the right times, has a gentle word of encouragement, and is clinging to her faith through sheer grit. She knows all the *right* answers, but the truth is she doesn’t feel like any of them have ever paid off for her. She has been working the formula for years, but her husband has been slowly sucking the life from her one day at a time for years. She has all the latest Christian self-help books, attended every seminar, renounced all the wrong things, and prayed all the right ones.

For her there is only one path to relief – that someone dies. And knowing that does not make her life any easier because now she had to carry around the guilt of wishing her husband would be hit by a semi-truck or concealing suicidal tendencies that terrify her for the sake of the kids.

But, Emily, that’s not my fault! She just needs to have more faith!

Really? Listen to yourself for one freaking second. She needs to have more faith that God is going to force her husband to do all the things that this man has actively resisted for years? She needs to have more faith that God is going to zap this man’s freewill from existence? She needs to have more faith that another human being can be manipulated into submission through the proper application of prayers and Scriptural proclamations? Are we talking about Christianity or voodoo here?

Look, I do believe in the miraculous. I do believe that prayers have power to change the world, and I do believe that with God there is no such thing as a hopeless situation. But I also believe that humanity has been given an incredible and costly gift, we call it freewill. We get to choose, good or bad. We get to choose and being a Christian does not give you the right or ability to override anyone else’s choice. And as much as we may hate it, that means even an abuser gets to choose, and no person on the face of this earth gets to take that choice away from them.

And this is why you are part of the problem, your pious rules about how a good Christian wife should behave has robbed women of the very tools they need to protect themselves against an abuser’s choice and to seek the help she may need in order to get help both for herself and the man she loves. Women will go to great lengths to hide their husband’s flaws from the world. We call it honoring our husbands as we cover up and deny the damage he is doing. We think that we are being faithful and strong bearing the burden by ourselves. We excuse and deny that there is a problem so that they will not be shamed before the world and our church friends. We know that in the end we will be blamed for the choices our husbands make and will judged without mercy.

Everything from how we cleaned house, disciplined the kids, dressed, did our hair, and had sex will be held up for public scrutiny and ridicule. We will be given all sorts of great sounding but ineffective advice while the abuser is shielded from the consequences of his actions. Bible verses will be ripped out of context and used as battering rams against our already bleeding hearts, and everyone will get to feel so smugly superior to the broken and bruised. And we endure it all because we had too much faith in the power of church formulas to stop the abuse.

But, Emily, abuse is wrong! We don’t condone that!

Yes, yes, you do. You do it when you tell her that she should not set boundaries or limits on his spending, on the amount of time he spends in front of a computer, or the time he spends with his friends instead of his family. You do it every time you tell her that she needs to respond to his anger with love and kindness, instead of refusing to be an emotional or physical punching bag. You do it when you remind her that he is a weak and flawed human being who needs her love and support more than she needs to a partner to stand by her side. You do it when you try to silence her when she asks for help. You do it when you condemn her for leaving when her words were not enough to gain his attention. You do when you excuse his laziness, his inability or unwillingness to take responsibility for his actions, and the unhealthy ways he tries to meet his sexual needs. You do it when your only word of advice is submit.

Am I saying that Christian wives should not submit? No, I am not. In a healthy relationship where men are following their part of that command to love their wives as Christ loves the church, submission is easy – a joy even. Sure, there are individual and specific circumstance where our obedience to God’s Word might be tested, but when we know that our husbands are truly seeking the best for us and our families we can submit without fear of being used or intentionally hurt. In these marriages, submission leads to freedom because the two of you will be working to mutually empower the other to become better people.

And while we are on the subject, let me just say that overall the church has been teaching this whole concept wrong. We focus on the death while completely overlooking a far more important factor – yes, Christ died for his bride, but before he died for her he lived for her. He endured all the hardship that this earthly existence had to dish out and he remained kind, loving, and dedicated to demonstrating what love looks like even when it hurts. This is the example that men need to be following, because let’s face it. Stepping in front of a bus is far easier than getting on one so you can go to a job you hate everyday so that your family can enjoy the little luxuries like food and a roof over their heads. And if you or your husband isn’t working to provide for his family, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, the Bible says he is worse than an unbeliever. Also, if he is strutting around calling himself a Christian while failing to provide, he is a liar, thief, and manipulator who is deserving of the correction and discipline of our community of faith. So any woman who calls out her husband for this sin is not in rebellion, she is a faithful student of the Word.

Do you know what the punishment is for those who claim to be believers and do not live according the dictates of Scripture? They are to be cut off from fellowship – in other words, the wife has every right to pack her stuff and leave or toss his stuff out on the yard. It is her call and no one has the right to deny her that. In fact, if anyone does then they are in violation of the Word and fellowship should be denied to them if they will not receive correction. This is Scriptural and it preserves lives and marriages. It is not churchy answer formula; it is the way God declared it should work.  

Every marriage will face a rough place, a time when the worst of who we are as human beings will be on full display for our spouse. That is normal and to be expected, but if we fault women for seeking answers to address ongoing patterns then we are not being who we have been called to be as Christians. We are being cowards, failing to face the reality that we live in a fallen world, denying that we are accountable to and for each other, that we have an obligation to defend those in need, and yes, to advocate that victims of abuse leave their abuser if necessary.

And another thing. We have got to stop trying to shove all the broken bits of a marriage back together and declaring it a miracle. An apology and plea for forgiveness is not a fix, because apologizing and begging for forgiveness is something every abuser does quite well. Why do you think so many women stay so long to begin with? Because he said all the right churchy phrases, even was nice long enough to regain her trust, only to show his true colors once he felt secure enough to get away with it once again. We don’t get to act like it never happened, to sweep it under the rug, and pretend everything is alright now. True reconciliation can only occur when there has been true brokenness and repentance that can only be measured through a consistent demonstrations of a changed heart and nature.

Oh, divorce doesn’t look good. We hate it when those in fellowship with us fail in public. We take it as a direct reflection on our church bodies, but this is misplaced concern. It is a revelation of what we truly worship and esteem, and exposes that our fear of looking bad outweighs any perceived obligation we have to God and his Word. There is no excuse for it, and make no mistake, we will be held accountable for every one we have caused to stumble or endangered through our idolatry.  For idolatry is what we are practicing every time we bemoan divorces power to corrupt more then we celebrate God's power to redeem and to heal.We are creating an image of what good Christian people do, with no regard to what the Bible actually declares. It is time we wake and stop protecting images, God has never been a fan of them, and start protecting the hearts and lives of those most in need of our compassion and support. Maybe then they will cease to see the powerless and loveless image God we have presented to them and come to know their value as his creation and child - a child that he loves enough to set free.

For a look at why divorce is NOT a sin, click here:  http://misdirectedmusings.blogspot.com/2015/12/readers-question-should-i-get-divorce.html
   

A Challenge For My Detractors - Until Then I Will Remain Scandalous

Y’all might want to buckle in for this one. I am little steamed and I am afraid I might forget how to be proper – but it turns out it probably won’t be the first or last time I hear that allegation.

Twelve days ago, something magical happened. I had no idea at the time what a few clicks of a mouse would mean to my life, and even now, I am pretty sure that I am just barely starting to understand the magnitude of that act. You see, a few friends and I decided to start a discussion group inspired by a book I wrote a few years back. (You can purchase it here: Scandalous on Amazon) Within three hours it went from six people to over one hundred and fifty. In three days we had over three hundred and fifty women – all sharing their stories, all asking their questions, and all experiencing a freedom that is all too rare in Christian circles.

You would think that this would be a good thing, but it has gotten back to me that there are some folks out there who think that what we are doing is evil, wicked, and – gasp – improper. There are even a few women who have been chastised for daring to associate with us.

Good Christian girls don’t talk about things like molestation, rape, marital problems, porn addictions for him or her, feminine hygiene, spousal abuse, traumatic births, difficulties have sex with our spouses, sex toys, lubricants, oral sex, anal sex, or period sex. We are supposed sit back and act as if these things either never happened to us, the women we love, or voice a desire to know what the Bible really has to say beyond we should sit down, shut up, and accept what we have been given with proper blushing timidity.

Here is my problem with people who say stuff like that – not that they would actually say these words, they just want to act all appalled and self-righteous – none of them have offered up one scrap of a Bible verse to support their opinion. Let me repeat that: NONE of them have given any BIBLICAL REASON to support their OPINION that we should be silent on issues that make THEM uncomfortable. Criticism flies high and thick, laced with a lot of pious outrage and sanctimonious shock, but that is ALL they have ever offered me or anyone that they have confronted. Oh, sure there are lot of holy SOUNDING words, even a few random phrases from the Bible tossed about as if anyone with half a brain and the ability to read couldn’t tell they have been ripped from their proper context and application in a desperate attempt to vilify women who dared to be honest.

Allow to clarify a few things for you folks. The Bible isn’t proper. In fact, the Bible is rather scandalous itself. Don’t believe me? Try these on for size.

Yet she increased her whoring, remembering the days of her youth, when she played the whore in the land of Egypt and lusted after her lovers there, whose members were like those of donkeys, and whose issue was like that of horses. Thus you longed for the lewdness of your youth, when the Egyptians handled your bosom and pressed your young breasts.” Ezekiel 23:19-21 ESV

(In case you missed it, “member” means penises and “issues” means ejaculations.)

I myself will lift up your skirts over your face, and your shame will be seen. Jeremiah 13:26

(Oh, and “shame” there – well, it’s referring to genitals again!)

In that day the Lord will shave with a razor that is hired beyond the River—with the king of Assyria—the head and the hair of the feet, and it will sweep away the beard also. Isaiah 7:20 ESV

(Why in the world would anyone shave their enemy’s feet and cut off their beards? Unless, this means…gasp…genitals again!)

This is just a sampling of what the Bible offers in the way of scandalous verses, and I could go on. However, let’s just stop right here for a second and notice one tiny detail. In all three of these passages, the prophets were writing on the behalf of God himself. So it wasn’t really the prophets talking this way, it was God talking this way. Some of you need to stop and let that sink in for a moment.

And what about Song of Solomon? I don’t care you slice that puppy or try to dress it up as an allegory for Christ’s love for the Church. The book is sexual and sensual. To deny that shows that you are more concerned with defending your own delicate sensibilities than getting real about God, His Word, or our faith.

Finally, we should look to Titus 2. This verse is a favorite for women’s ministries, but y’all like to over spiritualize every cotton picking thing.

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. Titus 2:3-5 ESV

We are to teach what is good. We could spend hours, years even discussing what is good – things like freedom from bondage, how to be good stewards of our bodies and sexuality, how to heal from sexual trauma and abuse, what healthy marriage that celebrates sex can look like. We can spend years talking about how to be good wives and mothers, but you are fool if you think that means we can be silent about sex, the scars we carry from past relationships, dealing with sexual issues within a marriage, or how to train our children to live in a world where porn is one click away from us all. We can discuss what it means to be self-controlled but we aren’t talking about how to control our biology we are missing a major element of the conversation.

And when we get to that last point – “that the word of God may not be reviled” – every argument ever offered to me, claiming that I must be silent is shredded. Because do you know what happens to women who told to bury their past, to ignore the pain caused by the misuse and abuse of their sexuality, or to deny that they have questions? I do. They end up in marriages where their lives are endangered. They become invisible victims of abuse. They become disillusioned with the Church and think they are disillusioned with a God who is not great enough to deal with the complexities of female sexuality. They rebel against the restraints that the overly pious would place upon us, and they act in anger against God and his Word. I know this. I know because I lived it and because so many women tell me the same story – a story that begins with, “No one ever talked about this.”

So here is my challenge to all of my detractors – show me one verse in context that says I am wrong. Give me one place within the pages of God’s word that would convict me of leading women astray, and I will pull Scandalous from the sales, close down the discussion group, and never speak of these things again. That is how right I KNOW this is.

Where Was God?

 “Prayer doesn’t do anything. Where was God when you were getting the shit beat out of you?” she sneered.

My heart broke a little bit more. It is the one question I really don’t have a good answer for. I can’t point to some supernatural intervention. I can’t claim divine deliverance. I can’t even say that I saw a glimmer of light in the dark. I just took it hoping that it would all be over soon, and at her words I felt stripped naked as if my whole life had been a sham.

For days, that question haunted me. I knew he was there. I knew that I had not endured that for nothing, and that he had not missed my suffering, but I didn’t how to convey that truth. I didn’t even want to look for a way. That chapter of my life is closed and opening it up to sift through the pieces in hopes of finding anything concrete meant opening up a lot of old wounds. I didn’t think I had the stomach for all the gore.

Over the years, I have talked a lot about my previous marriage. I have shared my story in churches, schools, and in my book. I have been commended for being “brave in my transparency” and praised for “daring to be so open about such a painful topic.” I can give you a rundown of the abuse without batting an eye. I can recount the feel of his fingers around my neck without fighting down the need to flinch. I can even tell you why the physical violence was far less traumatic than the emotional and mental abuse he doled out as he worked up his nerve to finally strike with his fist.

God and I were good. We had worked through all the heartache of those years. I had yelled and screamed at him for abandoning me, for leaving me alone, and ignoring all my cries for help. I had even taken the radical, and some claim blasphemous, step of forgiving God for all that – not that he needed it, but rather I needed to let go of my bitterness. I had to be ok with his way of doing things, and I had to take responsibility for my foolish pride and rebellion that landed me in that marriage to begin with. I don’t resent those years anymore. There is a huge part of me that still grieves and always will grieve the effect it had on my children who witnessed those events, but for myself, it is a time that has been redeemed as I have witnessed my story help so many others.

Maybe the question stung because I had gotten used to be lauded for my ability to rise above the circumstances of being an abused woman and then a single mom. And I was stunned that this scar that I had wielded like weapon for so long had now been turned against me.

So I have been thinking about the answer demanded of me, and I have been trying to find the words to express the truth that has been hidden in my heart, to quantify it in some way that would make sense to someone who is not inside my skin.

The only time my ex would lay a hand on me was if I was holding one of our children. He never attacked unless my daughters were in my arms. The first time, I was holding my oldest daughter as he grabbed me from behind putting me in a choke hold and shaking me like a rag doll. She was only two weeks old. All I could think in that moment was, “Don’t drop the baby.” So I didn’t. I held her tighter against me with one arm and with the other I gripped his arm taking the pressure off my neck. The last time he lunged at me as I was putting nightgowns on the girls, and he sat on my chest screaming as he tried to strangle the life out of me.

He might have succeeded. I wasn’t scared, and I didn’t fight. As the waves of blackness washed over me, I was tempted to let them sweep me away, but then one of the girls made a sound that caused me to look over at them. They were small and scared of what was happening, and all I could think was how if he killed me, he was the only parent they had left. So I fought back. I got free, and I got him out of my home and my life.

Where was God in those moments? He was holding my arms around my baby so I didn’t drop her. He was showing me why I had to fight to get free. He gave the courage to do the scariest thing I ever did. He gave me the strength to endure the years of being alone and trying to keep it together for the ones who counted on me. I screwed up so many times, and I made more mistakes than I can even remember. There were days when I was certain that they would be better without me, but every time that those dark waves of oblivion seemed more enticing than returning to the battle, he was there reminding me that love does not give up, that love does not get to indulge in that depth of selfishness.

Were there any burning bushes? No. Clouds parting, voices from the sky? No. Just my kids. Just the ones who had been entrusted to me, and the ones who relied on me to keep fighting. This is probably not the answer that anyone is hoping for. We all want the presence of God to be some over the top display and then are angered when he doesn’t reveal himself that way. We think we deserve a fairy tale, for him to make everything perfect and easy when he is near, but that’s not how he works, that’s not how faith is built.

And what good is prayer? It changed me. It is still changing me. I am learning to be okay with how he doesn’t split the skies open because I think I deserve that type of affirmation. He is showing me how to see him small moments, and to how to feel is presence in the chaos. He is teaching me how to become more like him – love more like him both in the times I rage before him in my frustration and in those moments I quiet my heart to listen and to know him. Prayer is where I learn, where I see the connections, and find the answers to the hard questions of life, as I allow him to change me. For never in a million years would I have understood his the depths of his love if he had not connected the dots for me, and showed me that if I as a mere human can rise from edges of death motivated by nothing more than the love of my children, then how much more does the one who rose from the depths of the grave love me? Does he love you?

Reader’s Question: Should I Get A Divorce?

First of all, let me say, I hate getting this question. It ranks right up there with the second most dreaded question: should I marry this person? There is just too much responsibility involved! How am I supposed to know these things? Sure, I have an opinion. I have an opinion on literally everything, but whether or not you should listen to it, that’s another question entirely. Whether or not you should use it to plot out your life? I am not even certain I should be using it to plot out mine. So with all of that laid out on the table and kept clearly in mind, I will try to answer the question.

Obviously, I know a little more about this particular situation than I am sharing, because it really isn’t any of your business. Also while the particulars vary every time I am asked this one, my answer is always pretty much the same.

I am big believer in the “Three A’s” when it comes to reasons for Christians to divorce. If you are not familiar, they are adultery, abuse, and abandonment. On the surface these all seem like well-defined terms without much need for elaboration. However, it really isn’t as simple as it seems.

Adultery can encompass emotional affairs, addictions, pornography, and just about anything else where the one’s affection has been transferred to something else. Abuse does not have to involve physical violence, but can also include emotional, mental, spiritual, and sexual abuse. Abandonment can be more than one person physically leaving the marriage, and can also refer to those situations where one spouse has emotionally and mentally checked out of the marriage. Space does not allow me to be more specific, but I go into all of this in greater detail in Scandalous.

I am also a big believer that while these are perfectly legitimate reasons to seek a divorce, they do not require you to get a divorce. More than one marriage has not only survived infidelity, but has gone on to thrive as the two people committed to work through the issues that led to the act. I have also known those who have been abandoned who waited faithfully for God to restore their marriage to have their spouses return to them more in love and committed than ever before. I have also witnessed many in abusive situations that did not include physical or sexual violence stay and work with their spouse to save their marriages.

Now, let me be perfectly clear on this, no one should ever stay in a violent situation. We are called to be good stewards of what we have been given, this includes ourselves, and allowing abuse that puts you or your children in danger is not being a good steward. If you are experiencing this, get out and get out now. Once you are safe, if you still believe that there is hope for your marriage, seek the help of professionals to guide you through a reconciliation process that should include repentance on the part of the abuser, accountability for both parties, and a sustained demonstration of change. Do not think that you can do this on your own, or that one tearful apology means that everything is fine now. You need outside, objective help. Do not return until you both seek and receive it.

 So if all of these things are reasons you can get a divorce but do not mean you don’t have to get a divorce, then we still need an answer to the question and therein lies the rub. I don’t know. Your best friend doesn’t know, you parents don’t know, and even your pastor doesn’t know. The only person with that type of knowledge is you.

Here is what I do know:

Divorce isn’t a sin. God designed marriage as the perfect union between two people, a way in which we could combine strengths and overcome weakness within an environment dedicated to helping us mature in him. However, he also recognized that we aren’t perfect and the people we marry aren’t perfect. He knew that not everyone could withstand the rigors of marriage, and there are some who will actively destroy the gift he has given to them in the love of another person. So he designed an escape hatch that we call divorce.

Someone is screaming at their computer, but God hates divorce. Yes, yes, he does, but go back and read that passage you are shouting. It is found in Malachi 2:16. Notice what he does not say in that passage, he does not call it a sin. He says that the problem lies in the lack of love, in the failure to guard ones spirit, and in being faithless. All of these things are a problem with God no matter where they are manifest in our lives, but that is the key – our lives. We cannot control the decisions of another person including our spouse, and if they choose to dishonor the promise they made to us then we have no responsibility in that. We can only choose to control our response, and sometimes the best response is to get out of the way and give God a clean shot.

And while you have your Bibles out, you should also look up Jeremiah 3. Pay close attention to verse 8.

I also know divorce changes you. I know because I have been there. There is nothing pretty about it, even when you are getting out of a horrific situation. No matter how good freedom might be, you are still going to grieve. A dream is dying, there is no way to avoid it, and when our dreams die a part of who we are dies.

 The only real advice I can offer you is this:

Search your heart, know why you are contemplating this decision. If it is just because you think you will be happier free of your marriage, you are buying into a lie. If you are doing it because they changed, you need to realize that so did you, it is called life, and part of marriage is learning to navigate the changes together. If it is because you feel dissatisfied or discontent, then you need to take responsibility for your own emotions and stop placing unrealistic expectations on someone else.

Determine what you can live with – not today, but ten years down the road. Can you leave now and feel like you did everything in your power to heal your marriage? Will you be able to look back and say, I did my best and it was all I could do, and say it with a clean conscience? Because you will, even after my ex wrapped his hands around my throat and tried to strangle the life out of me, I asked myself that question knowing that divorce was the only option I had left.

Refuse to make any decision until you have peace. Notice what I did not say, I did not say happiness because the two are entirely different critters. Peace is that quiet assurance that wells up in our souls that allows us to rest. Happiness is fleeting and easily destroyed. Peace can look past the tears and know that despite the pain the decision is one that leads you to wholeness and healing.

No one can answer these questions, only you can do that, but until you know the answers I can love you, I can pray for you, and I can support you in the search. That is what real friends do, we don’t make the decision for you. We simply offer the tools and the safe place to use them.

A Dark Part Of My Life - Freedom to Grieve the End of Abuse

I never knew what was going to set him off. One day it might be that I stepped on the white tiles of the floor, the next it would be because I stepped on the black. Maybe dinner was not to his liking, although he had proclaimed this dish to be his favorite last week. Perhaps I failed to hang his shirts in the particular order that he had decreed proper, or I had left my room before receiving permission.

Tonight it was the evening news.

Somewhere in the broadcast, I had gone from casual viewer to responsible for a story’s content. Exactly when that occurred, I could not say. I had been too busy nursing our less than six week old baby to spare much attention to anything else around me, but his rising voice and angry pacing now commanded my full attention. We exchanged some words, words I cannot recall to this day.

There are really on three other things I remember about that night. The first is none of our neighbors were home, and I was aware of how alone I was as I faced him. The second is that when I rose to turn off the TV he pounced, wrapping his arm around my neck in a headlock – there were two distinct thoughts that filled my head, don’t drop the baby and don’t let him break your neck. I held my daughter with one arm and gripped his forearm with my other, trying to take the strain from neck as he lifted my feet from the floor and shook me like a ragdoll.

I managed to absorb the force of the fall in my shoulder and hip when he threw me away from him, and avoided crushing the baby still in my arms. He never stopped screaming his rage at the television. Blood dripped from my lips onto the pastel baby blanket, causing me to freeze but simultaneously causing my mind to race. I rose to my feet and faced him. I reached out and turned the TV off. I can still remember the coldness in my voice as I said, “If you are going to act like that you need to leave.”

It was the first time that he attacked me in such a manner. The abuse until that moment had been of other kinds. The kinds that he believed would not injure his unborn child, but now, I was fair game to his rage.

It is hard for some to understand why I can honestly say that this moment was a relief, why the tangible violence was so much easier to bear than the mental, emotional, and even the sexual attacks that had gone before. I think we both always knew it was a matter of time, and we were just waiting for him to have the guts to do what he really wanted to do to me. It was the explosion after months of watching a slow burning fuse. Finally, I could breathe again instead of holding my breath in dread.

After years of study and close to two decades of reflection, I now know why I did not call the authorities. That night I believed myself to be completely alone and I was acting on the instinct to survive. There was no room for a misstep and to stumble would cause him to pounce with renewed vengeance. A glimmer of fear would be the only excuse he needed.

In the end, it was my knowledge of the danger that bought him the time he required to plant the seeds of doubt that would keep me there for another two years. For as I waited for the moment when I could escape or make a call, he was there full of contrition and affirmations of his love. The excuses for his anger and why I had to help him overcome this ugly part of who he was. He loved me, he adored me, but most of all, he needed me. Tears poured down his face as he wept at my feet, begging for my forgiveness and promising me that he would never hurt me again. This became our dance – dread and fear, ideal circumstances of isolation, violence, contrition, appeals for grace and affirmations of love, a few days of peace and hope, and then a return to dread.

When I share my story today, someone always asks the question, “Why did you stay?” The answer is not simple, for the threads that bind an abuser to their victim are so thin that they are invisible to the eyes of those not ensnared by them, but their strength is in numbers. I could say that I stayed for the children, and for a time, I believed that was true. I could say I stayed because I loved him, and I also believed that was true. I could say that I stayed because I believed that I could help him get better and we could move beyond the rage that filled his heart and mind, and this, too, I believed was true. But even all of these things do not begin to encompass the reasons I stayed, for as these threads were shredded under the weight of reality, others took their place binding me with equal efficiency.

But perhaps the biggest factor in keeping me there as long as I was, was nothing more than the idea that I should feel good about walking away from my abuser, that there would be a sense of joy and vindication at leaving such an evil situation and person. It was the response that those who loved me wished for me, encouraged me to reach for, and to embrace as my right. So I waited, hoping that I could find a sliver of the right feeling to propel me forward.

It never came.

I cried the day I packed up mine and my children’s meager belongings. I wept as I loaded my friend and brother’s trucks with the odds and ends of furniture while I prayed that my husband would not return. I did not leave a triumphant victor, but slunk away a broken and defeated shell of a woman.

It took me a long time to realize that I was not grieving the loss of my abuser, my emotional captor. It took me a long to stop feel shame for missing him and wanting to find a way back in hopes of repairing our broken marriage. It took a long time to unweave the threads that bound me, and I learned the truth that had been so carefully hidden from me – I was not grieving the loss of the man who left bruises on my ribs or bloodied my lips. I was not aching to return to marriage wrecked with violence. I was not grieving for the reality lost.

I was grieving for the death of a dream, the hope and promise of what should been, of who he claimed to be. I was crying for the person I loved, not the person he was. I was missing the man he had promised to be and had never become. My heart ached for the dream that would never be, and the person that I would never be because I dared to place my faith in lie.

Who can feel joy, or even vindication, at such truth? For even if my head could not understand it in those moments, my heart did. I will forever be the divorcee, the single mom, the abuse victim, and the woman I never intended to be. Picket fences and daisies edging the yard were ripped from my future. Happily ever after was consigned once again to fairy tales, when I had been promised it could be mine.

Grief was and is the proper response.

It was only when the pain of reality became bigger than the fear of losing a dream that was already dead that I could leave. And it was only when I could find the strength to face the truth that the dream had died a long time ago that I could turn loose of the man who killed it.

Why do I share this dark part of my life? Why when I have moved on, found new dreams and new visions for my future that have exceeded anything that I may have clung to before? Because there is a woman out there, right now, who believed the lie I once did. She is working so hard not to make him mad, and she dancing a dance I know all too well, but sister, it is time to realize that dream is dead and it is not coming back. Walking away means you will have to accept that cold hard truth, and you will grieve. Friends and family will not understand why it fills you with sadness, and they won’t get the tears or why you are not happy about reclaiming your life and freedom, but that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that you do.

Healing will come. New dreams will be found, and life will change if you have the courage to walk away. It will not be as you envisioned it before, but it can be greater than you dare hope for now. I promise, because I have lived it and I am here to tell my tale.

Should I Have Been Nice? - An Emily Rant

I am supposed to act like this.

The other day I got a phone call from someone who wanted to comment on my one of my posts. His words were sweet and encouraging, full of praise and support for “dealing with life’s harder issues.” You would think that this sort of thing would make me happy, but the truth is the longer he prattled on the more irritated I became. He explained to me why he never commented, liked or shared any of my writings. He didn’t want to give people the wrong idea about him or that he might be dealing with any of the issues I address in my posts, but he sure did want to bless and encourage me, just not publicly.

I think it was about the eighth time he said, “thank you for being brave enough to take on these issues” that my unruly mouth slipped its leash, and I heard myself say, “I’m glad one of is.” Needless to say, the conversation was soon over.

When I feel like this!

I know. I know. I was more than just a bit rude, and I shouldn’t have been. There were far more tactful ways to deal with what his words were stirring up inside of me. My problem is I usually only remember that after I have spouted off something less than kind. Believe me, I am working on it, but give me a little grace because it is a work in progress. And if I want to be real honest, I will admit that it probably always will be.

I have been thinking about the conversation a lot, wondering why it made me mad and wondering how I could have handled it better. So far this is what I have come up with:

I started dealing with “life’s harder issues” at time when my marriage was imploding. My ex-husband’s addiction to pornography had reached epic levels, leaving him unable to hold down a job as it interfered with his viewing schedule. I had ceased to exist as woman in his eyes and was considered to be just another obstacle between him and what he really desired. The verbal and emotional abuse was escalating to physical and sexual, and death fantasies became my favorite escape – his or mine, I didn’t care.

The great thing about reaching this level is other people’s opinions no longer matter. Societal constraints become nothing more than spider webs to be slapped aside.

So I started asking questions, contradicting statements, and generally being rude. I would be lying if I said I didn’t find a certain amount of entertainment in people’s shock, but the truth is I wasn’t doing it for that. There were so many truths I need to know if I was ever to return to the land of the living as something other than a shell of a person, and even though I thought I was ready to check out of this world there has always been some part of me ready for a fight. And it soon became apparent that I was in the fight of my life.

The funny thing about questions is that if you want to know the answer there is a pretty good chance that half the people you know want to know the same thing, but just haven’t worked up the nerve to say the words out loud.  It didn’t take long before women started approaching me off to the side, with nervous glance to make sure that no one could overhear. They told me about how their husbands used porn, how there had been violence in their homes, how they had been given the same “stay married and pray” advice I had received, and how they felt like there was no one willing to talk about these things because it was all just too uncomfortable in the church setting.

However, it didn’t make everyone happy with me. I learned from a friend that when she started attending the church I was that she had been warned about me. I learned from another friend that it was thought I had drug problem, and I heard from a third that I caused my husband’s addiction to porn because I had emasculated him with my sharp mouth. Christians can be so sweet.

Every day now, I receive emails, text, and messages over social media from women and men who are facing the same issues I did. They have the same questions I asked and they are facing the same stony faced silence or that condescending “we will just pray for you, dear” attitude I got. I hear from people whose faith is being eroded by Christians who are misrepresenting God and how he responds to our problems. I talk to abuse victims who are terrified of the shame and stigma that comes with divorce. I talk to women who are experts at hiding bruises and men who are terrified of losing everything if the truth comes out so they never seek the help they need except through a stranger who happened to write a book.

Guys and gals, I do not have this covered! There is only one of me and so many of you! The conversations are icky and uncomfortable – you try talking to a 70+ year old man about his chronic masturbation problem, I know!  I have been there. You have try having a pastor contact you on how to deal with a woman in his church who has shown up multiple times with a black eye or swollen lip, or answer a 12 year old’s question about anal sex. I do it all the time, but not because I am an expert. The only thing I have going for me is the fact I lived through my hell and came out the other side scrapping for answers.

I get frustrated and angry that we have become so ashamed of this gift of sexuality that God has given us. My blood pressure boils when I hear some pat and cliché answer proffered to someone who is real need, and I get so tired of being shushed by those who are embarrassed to speak truth into other’s lives. God never did that to anyone! He was bold and truthful. Jesus didn’t look at the lepers or the man at the pool, pat their heads and say, “I’ll pray for you.” He acted and he acted in truth and love – and love without truth is no better than a dollar sympathy card.

Pawning off our responsibility to follow in Jesus’ example is crock and a coward’s way out of what we have been called to be. Expecting someone else to deal with the harder issues of life so we can avoid them is laziness, and the next time you feel tempted to avoid a few words that make you uncomfortable, I hope you remember the cross and humiliation washes over you until you choke.

Could I be a little nicer? Should I have been a little nicer to the man on the phone? Maybe, but maybe too many of us are worshipping “nice” when we should have been worshipping God.

When Our Scars Offend

Warning Emily Rant -

I have become very comfortable telling my story over the past few years. I love empowering others by sharing what I learned about myself, my faith, and my God as I healed from the wounds left by an abusive marriage.

The stigma so many victims experience has been something I believed I had left in the dust, but today I was confronted by one who believed that my past still defined me. I was informed my medical issues stemmed from this past abuse, a trick of the mind and emotions manifesting in physical pain with "no real physiological reason."

I was shut down and ignored because I was honest about my past when questioned. This event served as a rude but effective reminder of how our culture tempts us to define ourselves according to our wounds. How we are pressured into seeing ourselves as nothing more than the deepest gash or hardest punch we have ever endured.

I find this to be offensive because my wounds do not define me nor does my abuser have the right to dictate all that I am allowed to be. I will always carry the scars from those days, there will be some tender places, and I may even flinch occasionally, but there is healing - wonderful, amazing healing!

I refuse to cover my scars. I carry them with a certain amount of pride, not so that others can pity me as victim, but so that they too can know healing is possible. I am honest about my past because for some it is their present, and my hope is that for others it shall never be their future.

I was labeled and shoved into a convenient box today. The broken and wounded are easier to deal with, the proper response of pity or disdain is hard wired in our being. We are merely a problem to fix or ignore depending on your temperament, but healed, the victorious survivor is an unpredictable creature at best. We are a challenge to the world, declaring that we will not be destroyed or controlled by another. We force those around us to grapple with possibility that one must take responsibility for their lives and actions because we did. In the midst of doubt, pain, and fear we chose to become someone greater than our wounds. We rob others of the excuse not to do the same with their unbroken lives.

A Love Story

Warning Emily Rant:

I want to tell you little story.

Once upon a time there was sweet little gal who fell in love. Her whole heart was given over to a man who promised to love her forever. She adored him and was willing to do whatever it took to be with him. Then one day the man smacked the crap out of her for hanging his clothes up incorrectly.

Now most of you would say this is a good place for their story to end, but it didn't. You see, she loved him and you can't chose who you love.

She knew this to be true because that is what she had been told her whole life. Everyone agreed that she was at the mercy of her heart and that to betray love was a grievous sin. So she stayed, and he doled out punishments for each and every infraction of his ever changing code. If she rinsed the dishes wrong, failed to stay in the proper part of the house, or grabbed the wrong wrench when helping him fix the car, he made certain that she paid - right up until the night she dared to repeat something she had read about the 1970's oil crises that he deemed to be worthy of strangulation.

That was the night that she realized that she loved something else more - her two kids, and she called the cops.

Now why would I share this little snippet about my life? Because it is an excellent illustration about how damaging our society's favorite lie is in the lives of people who chose to believe and how we apply with great hypocrisy when it suits our needs.

And what are our needs?

Our need to justify our actions and selfishness in the name of love.

There has been a lot written about the irresistible power of love, how we can't chose who we love, and why we must never question or challenge the right of one person to love another. We have been indoctrinated with idea since we were children, had it reinforced as teens, and try to live our lives according to it as adults. And over and over again, this lie has destroyed lives and damaged far too many of us to count.

Yet, we keep telling ourselves it is true. We cling to it as if it were the only hope of happiness in this world, all the while suffering from ill begotten relationships that may quite literally be killing us.

We want it to be true, but we only want it to be true for ourselves. We want a justification for why we chase after the married man, the woman that cheats, the person who is so incredibly wrong for us that only something as nonsensical as love can explain.

However, on the flip side, we do not want it to be true for others. We don't want our spouse to suddenly declare that they cannot chose who they love and it happens to be their secretary or personal trainer. We don't want it to be true for our children when they decide to get involved with the drug addict. We don't want it to be true for our friend in the abusive relationship, because for them we can see how harmful submission to this lie can be.

No, we only want it to be true for ourselves. We like the idea that we can cast off any moral or ethical obligations and society will understand, approve even, of our choice. After all, we have bought into the collective lie and we celebrate it - be it in Romeo and Juliet's tragedy or the latest TV show written to condition us further as the lead character accepts that his spouse can no longer make him as happy as his co-worker.

Why do we do this? Selfishness is one great reason, but I think that is only part of the story. I think a bigger piece is the fact that in our minds we have confused attraction with love and made all things sexually appealing synonymous with love. And if this were true and accurate, there would then be some truth and accuracy in the statement that we cannot chose who we love.

Attraction is an unruly beast that often takes us by storm, leaving us to wonder at its intensity and reason. It can be baffling and delightful, the first steps towards love, but few of us stop to consider that attraction is merely that - a biological impulse to draw closer to another whose biology appeals to ours. Looks, pheromones, mannerisms the pluck at some distant memory of someone else we held in high esteem, witty conversation, shared interests, or even just someone who challenges us with their unavailability - all of this can lure us in, give us a high, and according to the standards of our culture mimic this thing called love.

We want this to be love. We want a reason to pursue this sensation and to defend our right to take what we want. So the lie gives us permission. Permission to do and take what we want with thought to the consequences. Permission to avoid responsibility to ourselves and even to the very one we claim to love. Permission to let our bodies and desires to rule our entire existence. All because we cannot bear to tell our bodies no, or stand the pain of bringing our minds into submission to something greater than ourselves.

And today, we see the fall out of our choices all around us. Yet, we never stop to think that it is all because we chose to believe in a lie that we have called beautiful. And we will forever be at its mercy until we discover the power of true love and chose it instead - even when it hurts.

Our Redemption Stories

Originally published on Exploring Life on the Pagus

There are times when we look up and find ourselves in the middle of a mine field. We have no idea how we got there, but circumstance and good intentions take us right back to a place we fought so hard to leave behind.

Yesterday, I was asked to help a friend. It seemed like an innocent enough request, and one I wanted to fulfill. After all, I know what it is like to be young mother taking care of small children on limited funds and not being able to pay the mountain of bills that keeps growing to epic peaks of destruction. So I got in my car and went, with no reservations, no compunction, and no hesitancy.

But soon after I got there I was in a scene all too familiar. One that I fled from over a decade ago, and one that I would like to forget ever played out in my life. It was a painful place, one where I almost lost myself and my children to a special type of hell that is reserved for women who think that they can save the world, or at least one “special” man.

As I sat and talked to the young woman who needed the assistance, I kept having flashbacks that were trying to break to the surface of my mind. Memories that I would quickly put down so that I could focus on the specifics of this situation, but as she talked I knew I really didn’t even need to hear what she said. The script was familiar enough, after all, I felt like I wrote it so many years ago, and frankly, my delivery was better.

I woke up this morning still troubled by what I had witnessed, and in the privacy and safety of my own home I let those suppressed memories play out in my head. The question that kept ringing across them all was why? Why did I need to be the one who went? Why did I need to be reminded in such a blunt way of all the pain I left behind? Worked so hard to be free of?

I know the answer, and it is simple enough. Those who went with me spoke it plainly, “I don’t have your perspective,” “I’ve never been in this situation,” “I can’t imagine what this is like,” “I don’t know what to do to help.” At the time, all I could think was “Thank God you don’t.”

If I believe anything it is this. One, God is sovereign. He is big enough, strong enough, and sometimes even ruthless enough to carry out his purposes. Two, there is redemption for all the things we carry to the throne. Nothing is wasted, nothing is without purpose, not even our pain.

As I walked through yesterday, I had eyes to see what others would have missed. I had the experience to hear between the words, and the hard won wisdom to know what can and can’t be done to help. I am not saying this out of any sort of arrogance. It simply is the result of what I have lived through, and that is the key – I LIVED through it.

I came out on the other side basically whole, with a few scars that still give me trouble when a front moves through. But I am still alive, and I am stronger for what I have endured. It deepened my appreciation for the beautiful things I have in my life now, and it gave me an intimate knowledge of God that so many people in church just do not understand.

The thing is, we all have at least one area of our lives like this. One wilderness that we have walked through that others don’t even have a map to explain. What we have known and what we have done is a mystery to them, and they need us to help them navigate through these unknown lands.

It is one of the redemptive elements of our lives – the power of our story. It gives purpose and meaning to the events we have witnessed that is beyond ourselves. It brings hope to those who are still wandering in the land we managed to escape. Too often we try to avoid confronting our past hurts and wounding, we think that if we ignore it long enough we can forget that it existed, forget that we ever allowed ourselves to be that person.

Sometimes, I think that the world is crying out for those of us brave enough to show them our scars to give them this hope. They need to see that the God we serve is big enough to bring life, even where they are. They need to know that they are not forgotten, and He loves them even in the midst of their pain. And that only happens when we are strong enough to let another see into our past, show them how God saved us, and the power of his healing enacted in our lives.

Our stories of healing and redemption validate God’s power in this life, in their lives, and for many this is the only hope they have to cling to. If God did it for them, maybe he can and will do it for me – how can they have that hope unless we live it out before them? Maybe it is time we put an end to being the victims of our past and declare the victory of a Lord who specializes in redeeming all of history to his glory. Maybe it is time we stopped living in shame over our mistakes and we lived a life celebrating the redemptive power of His story.