He can take it

Having spent a few weeks writing about some frustrations and grievances that I have with my past life (read: the ten years I spent in Radford), I’d like to take this week to tell you some ways that I handle it all. I’m not, after all, just writing for myself. I am writing as a way to kind of get my thoughts out there and, hopefully, experience some healing through just saying it. But I’m also writing as a way to encourage you and let you know that you’re not alone. Or to warn you against some of those who claim to follow Christ, but may not actually have your best interests, or those of the kingdom, at heart.

This morning, I was reading my book about the prophet Jeremiah. I’m glad that I chose to re-read Run With the Horses because each chapter has been especially applicable in my current circumstances. This week, I was reading about Jeremiah’s prayers when he was especially frustrated with his circumstances. This part of the book of Jeremiah is the one that I most resonate with. Jeremiah has done what he was supposed to do- be a prophet and teacher of Josiah’s reforms. He has stood up for the right things and called the people out when they were only giving lip service or behavior modification to reforms that were really about their hearts. And yet. At some point in his career, things start to go poorly for Jeremiah. People stopped listening to him, if they ever did. He ends up thrown into a cistern. He’s done the right things, but good things haven’t happened to him. And he takes his anger and frustration to God.

When I was growing up, there were very clear expectations in my family, at school, and in the world I inhabited. If you did what was right, if you met those expectations, then good things happened to you. I got good grades, so I got awards for being at the top of my class and I got special privileges like eating lunch outside or wearing jeans on Fridays. I obeyed my parents, so I basically got to do whatever I wanted with my friends socially. I learned the Bible really well and was at church all the time, so I got to participate in church programs and activities. I was nominated for special groups at school and got the opportunity to lead at my church and on my sports teams because I did what was expected of me. I did the right things and good things happened to me.

If you’ve read my recent blogs, you know that, of late, good things have not happened to me. I’ve been mistreated, misunderstood, mishandled, and outright abused. I’ve been overlooked and misrepresented, gaslit and lied to. But the funny thing is, to the best of my ability and knowledge, I’ve continued to do the right things and meet the expectations of those in authority over me. Before I get any further, I’d like to clarify that I don’t think all expectations are a bad thing. Sometimes they are used to abuse people and take advantage of them. When I say that I’ve met people’s expectations, I’m not talking about anything like that. I’m talking about totally normal and fair things like doing my homework and speaking respectfully to my peers and adults alike. So, in my adult life, I have continued to meet and even exceed those normal, good expectations that people have of me. But I have not been given special privileges. I have not been given unique and beneficial opportunities. I have not gotten to lead. Instead, I’ve gotten shit on.

That’s the best way I know how to talk about it- for most of my adult life, I’ve done my best to do the right thing and all I’ve gotten in return is the social, emotional, and professional equivalent of feces in my face. (See my posts over the past few months for some details and/or a refresher.)

If this has ever happened to you, I’m sorry. I’m also pretty sure that my experience isn’t unique. So, since throwing molotov cocktails through the windows of those who’ve harmed us is frowned upon, what are we supposed to do? I’d really like to sabotage everyone who’s abused me, but that’s not the way of Jesus. And, if I’m about anything, it’s the way of Jesus. So, like Jeremiah before me, I take it to Jesus.

The first time that I really had it out with God was when I found out I was pregnant. And, if you’re not ready to hear that motherhood is my living nightmare, then please leave because I’m not interested in your shaming or your opinion. Becoming a mother has been a top five worst fear for my entire life. Why that is true is not what I’m going to discuss today. What I will discuss today is how I handled that devastating news. And, yes, I do mean devastating and if you’re triggered by that, nobody’s twisting your arm to make you read any further.

I walked around my apartment yelling, screaming, crying, and breaking things. I was so mad and ashamed and I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. I made my long-suffering husband tell people that I was pregnant. As in, I made him call my parents and sister and tell them that we were having a baby. I wrote my best friend a letter because I couldn’t face people’s reactions. Again, not discussing why, just painting a picture for you of how I was feeling. I had been acting in obedience to God for my entire life and here I was, saddled with one of my worst nightmares by his hands. We had words and we still do about my position as a mother. 

While I’m not sure that I’m exactly grateful to be a mom, I’m grateful for the opportunity to have had it out with God. Never before had I been in a position where I clearly thought that he was treating me unfairly. There was no one to blame, but him. So, if I was going to be angry, there was only one person to direct it at. And you can bet that I did. But it was in that season of incredible isolation, fear, and pain that I learned something really important about God: he can take it. 

God can take all my emotions. He can take all my anger and fear. He can take the unfairness and the injustice. He can take it all because he’s already taken it on the cross. 

Knowing that he can take it came in handy a few months ago when I was met with some more devastating news: that I was losing a job that I loved for no good reason. I still don’t really know why I had to lose my job. I don’t know why this happened to me and I don’t know why those dig-bat idiots get to keep theirs and even continue supervising people when they clearly have no business doing it. I don’t get it. But I do know that God can take it.

So, we’ve had some more shouting matches, though I’ve cried more than screamed this time. We’ve had words about how he’s a God of justice but these abusers of power are getting off scott-free and how does that figure? We’ve had conversations about revenge and vengeance and whether or not I’m going to sue anybody. He’s listened to me. He’s been patient. He has not given up on me and he has been incredibly kind through it all. Because he loves me. Because he can take it.

This is what I want you to take away from this: no matter how you’ve been abused or mistreated, God can take it. He was abused brutally on the cross and he knows how you feel. He went through it for your redemption. He tasted betrayal and injustice. He endured humiliation and deep loss. Jesus was God, but he was also a human being with a full range of emotions. He knows what it’s like and he can take it. 

Especially from religious leaders. If you’ve been abused or mistreated by spiritual leaders who should know better, then you’re my people. I write and tell my story because I want you to know that I’ve been through the same things and I’m still here. God has taken all my anger and pain. He’s still taking it. But he hasn’t given up on me, so I won’t give up on him. I want you to know that you don’t have to lose your faith. Maybe you should lose a particular denominational persuasion or organization, but you don’t have to lose your faith. And you also don’t have to practice it all alone. God made you for himself and he made us for each other and we don’t have to give up on the church or him just because the church has given up on us.

I want to paint a picture for us. Somewhere, I hope in your city or town, there is a group of people who love Jesus. Not only do they love Jesus, but they are also committed to the way of Jesus. They are serious about doing the right thing, even when it costs them. They are refreshingly authentic and they don’t expect anyone to put on a show. They’re people of integrity- they don’t lie. They don’t talk out of both sides of their mouth. They’re comfortable with the mess of their own lives and yours. And they’re waiting for you. They’ll be patient with your fears, anxieties, and wounds. They’ll listen and encourage you with the truth. They’ll never stop exploring the word of God and taking their concerns to him.

Because they know that he can take it. He’s taken their worst moments, he’s taken mine, how could he not also take yours?

I have to believe that this isn’t a pipe dream. It has to be real. And I’m holding on until I find it. For you and for me and for all who are in desperate need to know that they’re not too much and that he can take it.