Poison // Antidote

He was long gone by the time things were in need of repair. Him, the one who did the most damage. Even after he was found out and they realized that they had been duped, they never apologized to me. They never publicly acknowledged that they had been relating to me based on a whole set of lies. They never aired out their dirty laundry to let everyone know that he was the problem, not me. Honestly, they never really stopped treating me as if those lies were true. My pain and the sins done against me were secondary to a lot of what they were dealing with at the time. Their personal pain and the wreckage of their relationships came first. Of course it did. Even though they were the ones in charge and they dug their own grave by not listening to me and others when we said that something didn’t smell right. Change is hard. They didn’t make the whole mess, after all. It wasn’t their responsibility to clean it up.

It wasn’t their responsibility to pay me what I was worth. It wasn’t their responsibility to give me access to the training, education, and resources that I needed to not only do my job well, but also to grow into what I was actually capable of, who I was made to be. It wasn’t their responsibility to undo the damage that the liar had wrought. They weren’t interested in reparations or examinations. They didn’t want to do any investigating to figure out what the truth really was, what was actually true about me. It was easier to just carry on, give me a $5 gift card, and tell me that they were “big fans of Emily Brown”. No you’re not. Now you’re just lying to cover up a lie. Insult to injury. The Evangelical Way.

You called me poison, said that my words and the expression of my pain were harmful to those around me. You accused me of harboring bitterness and unforgiveness. That’s true, but it doesn’t excuse what they did to me, what they allowed to happen, or how they just carried on and never even cared to check in on me, follow up, or learn the truth. I, on the other hand, tried to follow up with them time and again. I spent fruitless hours in conversation, listening, talking, and arguing. I was never listened to. At best, I was dismissed as bitter and lacking understanding. At worst, I was silenced for daring to question someone in authority or daring to speak against someone who was part of the inner ring. At the very worst, I was completely disregarded and treated as a second class citizen for having the audacity to possess both two X chromosomes and a penchant for anything but staying at home with my 5 children. “God doesn’t make women like that.” “God made you a mother and you need to delight in it.”

I was not perfect and I was also alone. You had support, friends, a stable childhood, and a community that just adored you. You could do no wrong. You fit the mold and never thought to question it, assuming your blessings were a result of your righteousness, not the kindness of the Lord or, perhaps, a result of your ignorance of his call. Most of you never had to think about what you would do if no one listened to or believed you. Most of you got promoted and offered opportunities to grow in your career because you were there. You never had to work for anything - most of it was handed to you because you were a man. What’s that like? What’s it like for everyone to trust and believe you? What’s it like to never have to doubt or second guess your motives because you’re a man and God made you to be whatever you want to be? If you’re a man and you want to do it, then God must be in accord with you?

The things that I railed against during my time with you, they were wrong. My delivery could have been better, but my words weren’t wrong. Because I was a woman and “God doesn’t make women like that”, you doubted everything that I said from the start. You dismissed me because I either made a mistake in my delivery or I was a woman and didn’t know what I was talking about. 

All I wanted was a community where I could partner with y’all and with God to become more like him. All I wanted was to be loved and accepted for who I am. All I wanted was a safe place to wrestle and ask difficult questions. All I wanted was to work to heal and edify the body of Christ. All I wanted was to belong. I wanted to be the antidote to the ways that you weren’t honoring God or accepting people who were different from you.

What I got was exclusion and gaslighting. What I got was shamed for not being more like you. What I got was shock that I’d even think such things. What I got was accused of searching for the perfect community rather than loving the one I was in. What I got was exclusion. What I got was the name, “poison”.

Am I poison?
I guess we have different views on this point. What I do know is that it wasn’t your responsibility to fix every single wrong that had been done to me, but it was your right.

If Jesus fixes what he didn’t break, then, as his heirs, it’s our right to do the same. It’s our right to clean up a mess that we didn’t make for the love of our neighbor. It’s our right to mend the world and offer glimpses of life as it was meant to be. It’s our right to make things right in a situation when we didn’t do anything to make them wrong.

I’ll give you some credit, you fixed a few things that you didn’t break. But, looking back now, I sometimes wonder if even that wasn’t self-serving. I don’t think it cost you anything, so I don’t know if I can say that you really did it because you cared about me. I think you’ve mostly and always been looking out for yourself.

You called me poison because you bought into the lies that they had been believing about me for years. The other, he told them the lies and they kept believing them, even after he was exposed. And you, you got comfortable there because you’re just like them. For a while, you tried to pretend like you were different, but you’re not. You’re just as in love with comfort and your ego as they are. You’re just as uninterested in doing the hard work to actually figure out the truth as they are. And, even worse, all y’all, every last one is unwilling to make a sacrifice or look bad to do right by me. It wasn’t your responsibility, but it was your right. And you neglected it. And I’ll leave your just deserts up to my Father.

To this day, not one of you has said that you’re sorry. And you wonder why it’s so hard for me to forgive you? You can accuse me of bitterness and unforgiveness and you’ll be right. But, want to know something? You could make it easy for me. If you see me trapped in the sin of bitterness and unforgiveness, you have the power to set me free by saying that you’re sorry. It’s my responsibility to forgive you, and I’ll get there in time, but you’ll be held accountable for having the keys to set me free from this prison and denying me release. 

Dear God, how do they sleep?!

I’ve given you a lot of real estate on my corner of the internet. You don’t deserve it. I wish that I could evict you from my blog and from my mind. I think that I’ll get there one day, but that day is not today. The only reason that I write about you at all is so that others will know how to spot you and your friends when they encounter you in the wild. I care more about them than I care about your reputation or mine. And, that, my enemies, is why I’m not poison: I’m the antidote.

I sacrificed a lot to do what I did, say what I said, be who I was in Radford. I don’t regret it. My friends are better and they were blessed. God sees it. God knows and he will honor those sacrifices. 

I’m just wondering, what have you sacrificed to be where you are? What hard, but right thing have you done that cost you position, power, reputation, or literally anything else? Perhaps you have sacrificed some things, but nobody ever fired you and expected you to be grateful. Nobody ever doubted the words that came out of your mouth because you’re a man. Nobody ever denied you opportunities because they believed obvious untruths about you.

Nobody ever called you poison.

But you don’t know my name. I’m not poison. I’m Emily. Emily Hope. And I’m not poison. I’m the antidote.