There are only two kinds of responsibility that we ordinarily face:
Mine and
Not Mine.
Differentiating between the two can be a tricky proposition; we don't always know what is mine and what is not mine. However, our success as parents and employees, as citizens of our country and world, and as Christians depends on our ability to take our own responsibilities and let others (and God Himself) assume theirs.
For starters, here are some of My Responsibilities:
For the life I have now. Regardless of what my past held and how it formed me, I must take charge of how I respond to today's challenges. No matter who has influenced me and what events have developed my worldview, I am the only one who can, with God's help, grow into who I should be. That may involve change; nobody can do that for me, and even God won't do it without my cooperation!
For letting go of things I should not or cannot control. I can no longer manage the affairs of my child, now an adult, whom I once had to guide and direct. I cannot change the personality of the one with whom I find it difficult to get along. I can do but a little to change the way things are run in my church or my country; what I can do cheerfully and without force is mine to do, but fuming about the state of affairs does not accomplish anything.
For integrity. If I am specifically given accountability for tasks, situations, individuals or groups, I am to administer love with both mercy and justice as I myself would want to be treated.
For demonstrating reconciliation. This is the message of the Gospel, and I should reflect in my own relationships what God has for all who will accept His offer.
Not Mine.
What is yours before God.
Marjorie
Showing posts with label responsibility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label responsibility. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
For Such a Time As This
For over a century, The Ladies Home Journal has had a strong influence on its readers, now numbering in the millions. The motto of the magazine for many of those years has been, "Never underestimate the power of a woman." What does that mean? That women are smarter and more capable than you might expect? That women aren't given credit for their strengths? That there's more to a woman than meets the eye? That a woman can do anything a man can do and some things that he cannot? The declaration is perhaps not as aggressive as it might seem, given that the slogan came into use in 1945. Probably it was intended to recognize the value of women's work in the war effort and the tough resilience they demonstrated by maintaining homes and businesses while their men were away in battle.
The motto reminds me of the story of Esther in the Bible. Although the king underestimated the young Jewish woman he took as his queen, her cousin Mordecai did not. The king had been tricked by an evil man into issuing the edict that would wipe out all the Jews in the Kingdom. Mordecai pleaded with Esther to go to the king and beg for action that would spare their people. She was hesitant, for anyone approaching the throne without being summoned could be executed. Mordecai sent the insistent message, "Don't think that just because you live in the king's house you're the one Jew who will get out of this alive. If you persist in staying silent at a time like this, help and deliverance will arrive for the Jews from someplace else; but you and your family will be wiped out. Who knows? Maybe you were made queen for just such a time as this." (Esther 4:13, 14) Esther obeyed, and changed the course of Jewish history.
Who knows what effect your own life can have on those around you? Don't underestimate your power, your influence, or your contribution to the Kingdom of God! He has placed you exactly where you are for just such a time as this, Why then, you may wonder, do I not see anything happening? Why does what I say and do not make any difference?
Oh, but it does! Fifty years ago, a scientist named Edward Lorenz was using a numerical computer model to make weather predictions. What he found was that an extremely tiny change in initial conditions, when they evolved exponentially over time, resulted in a completely different weather outcome. The slightest disturbance, say by the flapping wings of a gull or a butterfly, would eventually be amplified to such an extent that large-scale atmospheric motions were created and long-term weather behavior became impossible to predict. (So that explains why the local weatherman cannot always get it right!)
Lorenz's talk in 1972 before the American Association for the Advancement of Science was titled, "Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil Set off a Tornado in Texas?" A butterfly, of course, could not create the tornado in the sense of providing the energy for the wind. It does represent, though, an infinitesimal part of the initial conditions that resulted in a tornado, and without the flap, that particular tornado would not have existed in the form it did. Thus, Lorenz's "butterfly effect."
In the dynamic structure that is our life in a world with other people, can you see that our actions and words have a butterfly effect too? What we do or say, even as tiny as the flutter of butterfly wings, does have powerful significance. We may not see it immediately, or perhaps we never will. Nevertheless, it sets in motion changes that eventually matter. Don't underestimate your power as a woman. Who knows but that you may have come to the Kingdom for such a time as this?
Marjorie
Oh, but it does! Fifty years ago, a scientist named Edward Lorenz was using a numerical computer model to make weather predictions. What he found was that an extremely tiny change in initial conditions, when they evolved exponentially over time, resulted in a completely different weather outcome. The slightest disturbance, say by the flapping wings of a gull or a butterfly, would eventually be amplified to such an extent that large-scale atmospheric motions were created and long-term weather behavior became impossible to predict. (So that explains why the local weatherman cannot always get it right!)
Lorenz's talk in 1972 before the American Association for the Advancement of Science was titled, "Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil Set off a Tornado in Texas?" A butterfly, of course, could not create the tornado in the sense of providing the energy for the wind. It does represent, though, an infinitesimal part of the initial conditions that resulted in a tornado, and without the flap, that particular tornado would not have existed in the form it did. Thus, Lorenz's "butterfly effect."
In the dynamic structure that is our life in a world with other people, can you see that our actions and words have a butterfly effect too? What we do or say, even as tiny as the flutter of butterfly wings, does have powerful significance. We may not see it immediately, or perhaps we never will. Nevertheless, it sets in motion changes that eventually matter. Don't underestimate your power as a woman. Who knows but that you may have come to the Kingdom for such a time as this?
Marjorie
Scripture taken from The Message. Copyright © 2003 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. Information on the "butterfly effect" from http://www.cmp.caltech.edu/~mcc/chaos_new/Lorenz.html and
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Making People Happy
For a lot of years, I assumed I had the responsibility for making the people around me happy. Now I still think I'm obliged to seek their good, but I no longer believe that other folks' happiness rests on my shoulders.
Happiness is a very personal thing, and it comes from within more than from the outside. Some people are just always going to be unhappy, and nothing that you or I do is going to change that. They are expecting their circumstances and the people around them to furnish them with the good feelings they like to have. There are, of course, many external things that are pleasant and enjoyable, but those who are truly happy have discovered a better and more lasting source. Abraham Lincoln said, "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be," and long before Lincoln's time, Aristotle (384-322 BC) declared "Happiness depends upon ourselves."
It is easy for women, especially those who are naturally inclined toward compassion and nurturing, to fall into a "care-taking" role for everybody. There will always be needy people around them who seem to have a special instinct for homing in on someone who will think for them, decide for them, and fill their emotional needs. The line of action for these dependent friends is making us feel that no one else can do for them what we can, that we are their greatest source of kindness, that we are the only person they know who's acting like a Christian, that they have no one else on whom they can count.
We may respond easily to this approach, because we do want to be kind, loving, and generous. We do want to be thoroughly Christian in our attitudes and actions. It makes us feel good if this needy one singles us out as this kind of champion. However, our motives have then become clouded with self-interest, and we cannot see as clearly as we might. Do you suppose there is some reason they have no other friends? In all likelihood, they have worn them out. If we allow it and unknowingly encourage it, they will do the very same to us.
How can we refuse when a friend, relative or even our own adult child asks pathetically, "But why won't you do this for me? . . . stay here with me? . . . drive me there? . . . let me borrow? . . . "We can say "You know, I just can't give you any more help with that than I have already given you. Why don't you call a . . . lawyer, counselor, banker, service-provider?" Even with youngsters who whine, "But why not?" we are not accountable for providing endless entertainment, infinite amounts of money, and privileges that are continually unaccompanied by any personal responsibility on their part. We may say, "I believe it wouldn't be good for you if I did that for you. Maybe you can try . . . "
Although we may think we will just go ahead and make the personal sacrifices regardless, what is likely to happen is that we will become weary of being used. We will begin to resent the demands and then feeling guilty about that, we mercilessly punish ourselves for our lack of charity. We may be angry at the person for the problem they have become to us, or we may be angry at ourselves for allowing them to continue. What we should have handled in firm but loving action has been turned in on ourselves. Read "Acting In" (here)
Re-think your relationships if everyone has chosen you, and your friends are not ones you have chosen—or would choose, if you had it to do over. Although we want to encourage rich and rewarding relationships, no one's happiness depends on you.
Marjorie
Happiness is a very personal thing, and it comes from within more than from the outside. Some people are just always going to be unhappy, and nothing that you or I do is going to change that. They are expecting their circumstances and the people around them to furnish them with the good feelings they like to have. There are, of course, many external things that are pleasant and enjoyable, but those who are truly happy have discovered a better and more lasting source. Abraham Lincoln said, "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be," and long before Lincoln's time, Aristotle (384-322 BC) declared "Happiness depends upon ourselves."
It is easy for women, especially those who are naturally inclined toward compassion and nurturing, to fall into a "care-taking" role for everybody. There will always be needy people around them who seem to have a special instinct for homing in on someone who will think for them, decide for them, and fill their emotional needs. The line of action for these dependent friends is making us feel that no one else can do for them what we can, that we are their greatest source of kindness, that we are the only person they know who's acting like a Christian, that they have no one else on whom they can count.
We may respond easily to this approach, because we do want to be kind, loving, and generous. We do want to be thoroughly Christian in our attitudes and actions. It makes us feel good if this needy one singles us out as this kind of champion. However, our motives have then become clouded with self-interest, and we cannot see as clearly as we might. Do you suppose there is some reason they have no other friends? In all likelihood, they have worn them out. If we allow it and unknowingly encourage it, they will do the very same to us.
How can we refuse when a friend, relative or even our own adult child asks pathetically, "But why won't you do this for me? . . . stay here with me? . . . drive me there? . . . let me borrow? . . . "We can say "You know, I just can't give you any more help with that than I have already given you. Why don't you call a . . . lawyer, counselor, banker, service-provider?" Even with youngsters who whine, "But why not?" we are not accountable for providing endless entertainment, infinite amounts of money, and privileges that are continually unaccompanied by any personal responsibility on their part. We may say, "I believe it wouldn't be good for you if I did that for you. Maybe you can try . . . "
Although we may think we will just go ahead and make the personal sacrifices regardless, what is likely to happen is that we will become weary of being used. We will begin to resent the demands and then feeling guilty about that, we mercilessly punish ourselves for our lack of charity. We may be angry at the person for the problem they have become to us, or we may be angry at ourselves for allowing them to continue. What we should have handled in firm but loving action has been turned in on ourselves. Read "Acting In" (here)
Re-think your relationships if everyone has chosen you, and your friends are not ones you have chosen—or would choose, if you had it to do over. Although we want to encourage rich and rewarding relationships, no one's happiness depends on you.
Marjorie
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Discomfort of Distinction
In the not-too-distant past, little girls were supposed to be pretty—and that's about all. Back then they were trained to be "nice," quiet, and deferential to their elders and to men and boys. That was before they excelled at sports, found out that they were as good at math as many of the fellows, or realized they too could become members of Congress, corporate presidents, airline pilots, and postal carriers.
Many modern girls do not hesitate to take on any challenge they wish, but if one lived in that earlier era, it can be uncomfortable to be outstanding. "Standing out" was painful, even if it was for achievement; discomfort accompanied distinction. I remember being embarrassed by having the best grade in second-year algebra; I was teased by the other students for being "smart." What they didn't know is that I cried over my homework, and spent before-school hours with the teacher patiently explaining things to me once more. Countless times throughout life, I hid my achievement so that my quiet efforts would not be rewarded with someone's taunts. Others may have been the target of unwelcome attention for their attractiveness, their interest in art or music, their congeniality or even their (father's) occupation and money. They too suffered from the discomfort of distinction.
Many women, especially those of the past couple of generations, have difficulty accepting the gifts God has given them, or what they have developed through their lifetime. Even if they can recognize their own abilities—which often they cannot—they hesitate to let them be seen by others and thus profitably used. Do you think the "parable of the talents" applies here? (Matthew 25:14-30)
Success can actually be painful for the person who prefers to remain unnoticed, especially if they have been taught that this is how they must act. While this may look like humility, sometimes it really is not. It is an over-developed consciousness of oneself. After all, the predominant motivation of the servant who hid the money instead of investing it was distrust of his master and fear for himself. Is it right for us to give less than the best we can to an endeavor because we are more conscious of what people think than of what the Master thinks? "Someone may think I'm showing off . . . or trying to act smart . . . or just getting attention . . . or whatever . . . "
No, go ahead and be the best chocolate cake baker and put your recipe in the church cookbook. It's okay if someone tells you how great your musical performance or your PTO chairmanship or your help at the community yard sale was; just say "Thank you." And don't be embarrassed by offering small things: a call, a casserole, a compliment.
Because what if Jesus were to think we are lazy and careless and afraid of Him?
Marjorie
Many modern girls do not hesitate to take on any challenge they wish, but if one lived in that earlier era, it can be uncomfortable to be outstanding. "Standing out" was painful, even if it was for achievement; discomfort accompanied distinction. I remember being embarrassed by having the best grade in second-year algebra; I was teased by the other students for being "smart." What they didn't know is that I cried over my homework, and spent before-school hours with the teacher patiently explaining things to me once more. Countless times throughout life, I hid my achievement so that my quiet efforts would not be rewarded with someone's taunts. Others may have been the target of unwelcome attention for their attractiveness, their interest in art or music, their congeniality or even their (father's) occupation and money. They too suffered from the discomfort of distinction.
Many women, especially those of the past couple of generations, have difficulty accepting the gifts God has given them, or what they have developed through their lifetime. Even if they can recognize their own abilities—which often they cannot—they hesitate to let them be seen by others and thus profitably used. Do you think the "parable of the talents" applies here? (Matthew 25:14-30)
The Kingdom of Heaven can be illustrated by the story of a man going on a
long trip. He called together his servants and entrusted his money to them while
he was gone. He gave five talents (bags of silver) to one, two talents (bags of
silver) to another, and one talent (bag of silver) to the last—dividing it in
proportion to their abilities. He then left on his trip. The servant who
received the five bags of silver invested his master's money and earned five
more. The servant with two bags of silver also went to work and earned two
more. But the servant who received the one bag of silver dug a hole in the
ground and hid the master’s money."
When the master returned from his trip, he called the servants to give an
account for what he had entrusted to them. The men to whom he had given
the five bags and the two bags came forward with the added earnings from their
investments. The master was full of praise and rewarded them with gracious
words and the promise of a celebration. Then the servant with the
one bag of silver came and said, "Master, I knew you were an exacting man. I was
afraid I would lose your money and disappoint you, so I hid it in the earth.
Look, here is your money back." The master called that servant wicked and
lazy and punished him for not making profitable use of what had been entrusted
to him.
Success can actually be painful for the person who prefers to remain unnoticed, especially if they have been taught that this is how they must act. While this may look like humility, sometimes it really is not. It is an over-developed consciousness of oneself. After all, the predominant motivation of the servant who hid the money instead of investing it was distrust of his master and fear for himself. Is it right for us to give less than the best we can to an endeavor because we are more conscious of what people think than of what the Master thinks? "Someone may think I'm showing off . . . or trying to act smart . . . or just getting attention . . . or whatever . . . "
No, go ahead and be the best chocolate cake baker and put your recipe in the church cookbook. It's okay if someone tells you how great your musical performance or your PTO chairmanship or your help at the community yard sale was; just say "Thank you." And don't be embarrassed by offering small things: a call, a casserole, a compliment.
Because what if Jesus were to think we are lazy and careless and afraid of Him?
Marjorie
Monday, June 29, 2009
Choose Your Battles
No one can give time and energy to every cause, good though it may be. No one can possibly enter every single battle, let alone win them all. As noble a goal as it is, no one person is going to be able to help right every wrong. It's important, then, for us to discern in which causes and battles we should be engaged.
A story in the Old Testament can give us some instruction. (II Samuel 2:18-23) Joab, Abishai, and Asahel were King David's nephews, sons of his sister Zeruiah. All three were engaged in the war being fought against the house of Saul. Asahel was known for being an especially swift runner; he was like a gazelle. Fueled by anger or pride, he began chasing Abner, the commander of Saul's forces. What a trophy this would be to take back to his fellow soldiers: Abner, either dead or alive! He might be credited with winning the war, securing the kingdom for David, practically single-handed! Although Asahel was one of David's special group of thirty "mighty men," his fighting skill was undoubtedly less than that of the experienced soldier he was pursuing. Along the way, he paid no attention to opportunities to take other prisoners; his eyes were on Abner only. He chased after the officer relentlessly, not stopping for anything.
Abner looked back and saw someone coming after him. He called out, "Is that you, Asahel?"
"Yes, it is!"
"Go fight someone else!" Abner warned. "Take on one of the younger men to your right or left and strip him of his weapons." Knowing the young soldier was no match for his own experience, he offered an alternate action of safety and honor. He did not ask the young man to disgrace himself by dropping his pursuit entirely, but only to take on a cause more suited to his strength. It would appear to anyone watching that he had chased some other person, not Abner himself.
Asahel perhaps thought Abner's suggestion was made from fear, as they were now close enough to call back and forth to one another. This may even have fired his determination to disarm the general and take him prisoner, or else to kill him in hand-to-hand combat. Asahel continued his chase.
Abner shouted to him again. "Get away from here!" he begged. "I don't want to kill you! Don't make me do that! How could I face your brother Joab again?" Whether he respected Joab or feared him, he did not want to anger him. If Asahel did not turn aside, Abner would have to kill or be killed.
Asahel refused to turn back, and Abner thrust backward with the butt end of his spear, a move so powerful that the spear was driven all the way through the young soldier's body. He stumbled to the ground and died on the spot. Everyone that came by stopped and stood still when they saw Asahel, the ambitious young soldier lying there.
He was brave. He was determined. He was fighting a noble cause. And he was dead.
It is poor strategy for us to take on causes just because we are eager to do so. Fighting battles just to show our strength or ability—like who is "boss" here or who is "right"—are seldom effective in the long run. A "death-blow" can come from the direction we least expect it if we engage in conflict that we were not meant to enter.
When facing their enemies, kings and commanders in the Scripture would ask of the Lord, "Shall we enter the battle?" And God would tell them that they should and He would give victory, or He would tell then not to for they would meet with defeat. We are confronted on all sides with issues: family relationships, church decisions, community actions, political questions, social problems. We cannot possibly be involved in all of them. God will help us to choose the battles where we will be most effective for the cause of Christ, and to have a clear conscience concerning the rest.
Marjorie
A story in the Old Testament can give us some instruction. (II Samuel 2:18-23) Joab, Abishai, and Asahel were King David's nephews, sons of his sister Zeruiah. All three were engaged in the war being fought against the house of Saul. Asahel was known for being an especially swift runner; he was like a gazelle. Fueled by anger or pride, he began chasing Abner, the commander of Saul's forces. What a trophy this would be to take back to his fellow soldiers: Abner, either dead or alive! He might be credited with winning the war, securing the kingdom for David, practically single-handed! Although Asahel was one of David's special group of thirty "mighty men," his fighting skill was undoubtedly less than that of the experienced soldier he was pursuing. Along the way, he paid no attention to opportunities to take other prisoners; his eyes were on Abner only. He chased after the officer relentlessly, not stopping for anything.
Abner looked back and saw someone coming after him. He called out, "Is that you, Asahel?"
"Yes, it is!"
"Go fight someone else!" Abner warned. "Take on one of the younger men to your right or left and strip him of his weapons." Knowing the young soldier was no match for his own experience, he offered an alternate action of safety and honor. He did not ask the young man to disgrace himself by dropping his pursuit entirely, but only to take on a cause more suited to his strength. It would appear to anyone watching that he had chased some other person, not Abner himself.
Asahel perhaps thought Abner's suggestion was made from fear, as they were now close enough to call back and forth to one another. This may even have fired his determination to disarm the general and take him prisoner, or else to kill him in hand-to-hand combat. Asahel continued his chase.
Abner shouted to him again. "Get away from here!" he begged. "I don't want to kill you! Don't make me do that! How could I face your brother Joab again?" Whether he respected Joab or feared him, he did not want to anger him. If Asahel did not turn aside, Abner would have to kill or be killed.
Asahel refused to turn back, and Abner thrust backward with the butt end of his spear, a move so powerful that the spear was driven all the way through the young soldier's body. He stumbled to the ground and died on the spot. Everyone that came by stopped and stood still when they saw Asahel, the ambitious young soldier lying there.
He was brave. He was determined. He was fighting a noble cause. And he was dead.
It is poor strategy for us to take on causes just because we are eager to do so. Fighting battles just to show our strength or ability—like who is "boss" here or who is "right"—are seldom effective in the long run. A "death-blow" can come from the direction we least expect it if we engage in conflict that we were not meant to enter.
When facing their enemies, kings and commanders in the Scripture would ask of the Lord, "Shall we enter the battle?" And God would tell them that they should and He would give victory, or He would tell then not to for they would meet with defeat. We are confronted on all sides with issues: family relationships, church decisions, community actions, political questions, social problems. We cannot possibly be involved in all of them. God will help us to choose the battles where we will be most effective for the cause of Christ, and to have a clear conscience concerning the rest.
Marjorie
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Genny's Story - 5: "Something Was Very Wrong"
Genny has just described how her abusive home affected her physically and emotionally.
Marjorie: Did you ever wonder if perhaps Jim was mentally ill, that his anger was something he couldn't help?
Genny: There was definitely something wrong, but he avoided any kind of situation where he might be evaluated. But that he couldn't help it? No, I finally had to give that up. He was a Christian gentleman as far as the church and his few select friends could tell. He controlled his angry, scornful words and his selfish actions when he was around them. So he could have done that for me too, if that's what he had wanted to do. But at home he let "the evil twin" out. He knew how to use his anger as a tool; he could turn it on or off to get whatever it was he wanted. He told me that when he was a child or young man, he stood in front of a mirror and practiced saying vicious things, and that through the years he took satisfaction in seeing how he could wither people with his words.
M: Is it possible that he had some kind of personality disorder?
G: I'm sure that's possible, although I don't know a lot about those problems. Sometimes I wish it could have been as simple as saying, "Well, he has this" or "He is such-and-such." I have to remind myself that this is something he carefully controlled. I even told him, "You're nice to everyone but me." He just kept an expressionless mask over his face—no recognition, no denial either—like I had made some ridiculous statement that he could just ignore. I really believe he liked being angry. I think he felt powerful and in control when he was loud and mean. I read somewhere that anger can give a "high" as addictive as a drug. I think he was addicted. Once in a mellow moment, I told him, "If you could give up your inner rage, you would be a different man." "No, no," he answered, "I am a transformed man." (Meaning that because he had accepted Jesus as Savior, his old life simply didn't exist.) I am here to tell you that was not true. Being "saved" did not bring a deep life change in him.
M: So sometimes you did confront him?
G: Sort of. I'm not sure you could even call it confrontation. I walked away a few times, when he was loud and angry. I left the room or the house while he was yelling, "Don't you dare leave me!" But at that time, I didn't think of actually leaving him as an option. Later, after recognizing the extent of the abuse and deciding, "I am not going to live this way," I did have to begin facing what the next step would be. It didn't seem like an immediate decision that I needed to make in a hurry. I knew I could make it on my own, but I couldn't see myself leaving. I was still clinging to that little bit of hope that he would choose to relate to me as a loving husband.
M: What about those "sort-of" confrontations? Why weren't you more assertive in taking care of yourself in the relationship?
G: It took a very long time to sink in that all of this was not going to turn out okay. Then when I did realize it, I did not have the kind of strength and self-respect that would have been required to stop the mistreatment. I'm not sure I ever possessed that confidence, but if so, it had been beaten down and I was just numb. Had I been that stronger and wiser person, I probably wouldn't have been married to Jim at all.. He was attracted to the quiet, compliant woman I was, and might not have even liked me had I been otherwise!
There was something very wrong, that is to say unbalanced. Over and over I have said to myself, "This man, at least while I lived with him, was wicked or very, very sick." Probably some of both. He was very sick in the sense that he did not respond to life in what would be called "normal" ways. But I think he made little choices over and over again that led in the wrong, self-destructive direction—just like a diabetic may choose to disregard nutritional counsel, or a person with lung cancer continues to smoke. I believe Jim's choices shaped his body and his brain until the bent of his life was pretty nearly irreversible, and perhaps then he really couldn't any longer choose; I don't know. And I have to let God judge whether or not he was wicked. From my perspective, I will say that he did not show the spirit of Christ.
M: But God can deliver from such patterns, can't He?
G: Oh, of course! I really believe that. But it doesn't happen if a person is resisting change. Jim preferred not to submit to any of the costly or painful disciplines God might have used in his life. He just admitted that he loved pleasure and ease too much for that. God doesn't force us to undergo training. We have to present ourselves, prepared for whatever it takes to make us into His disciples.
Knowing that Jim was very wrong does not mean that I accept no responsibility. There's a difference between assuming responsibility and accepting blame. I did not cause the abuse; it was not my fault. I am able now to take responsibility for being the kind of person who could not stand up for herself and say, "This is not right." But it's still not helpful or realistic for me to examine the "Jim years" and tell myself, "Why didn't you just say . . ." "If you had just done such-and-such." If I could have said or done differently, I probably wouldn't even have been in that situation in the first place. The timid little steps I did take were all I could manage at the time.
To be continued.
Marjorie: Did you ever wonder if perhaps Jim was mentally ill, that his anger was something he couldn't help?
Genny: There was definitely something wrong, but he avoided any kind of situation where he might be evaluated. But that he couldn't help it? No, I finally had to give that up. He was a Christian gentleman as far as the church and his few select friends could tell. He controlled his angry, scornful words and his selfish actions when he was around them. So he could have done that for me too, if that's what he had wanted to do. But at home he let "the evil twin" out. He knew how to use his anger as a tool; he could turn it on or off to get whatever it was he wanted. He told me that when he was a child or young man, he stood in front of a mirror and practiced saying vicious things, and that through the years he took satisfaction in seeing how he could wither people with his words.
M: Is it possible that he had some kind of personality disorder?
G: I'm sure that's possible, although I don't know a lot about those problems. Sometimes I wish it could have been as simple as saying, "Well, he has this" or "He is such-and-such." I have to remind myself that this is something he carefully controlled. I even told him, "You're nice to everyone but me." He just kept an expressionless mask over his face—no recognition, no denial either—like I had made some ridiculous statement that he could just ignore. I really believe he liked being angry. I think he felt powerful and in control when he was loud and mean. I read somewhere that anger can give a "high" as addictive as a drug. I think he was addicted. Once in a mellow moment, I told him, "If you could give up your inner rage, you would be a different man." "No, no," he answered, "I am a transformed man." (Meaning that because he had accepted Jesus as Savior, his old life simply didn't exist.) I am here to tell you that was not true. Being "saved" did not bring a deep life change in him.
M: So sometimes you did confront him?
G: Sort of. I'm not sure you could even call it confrontation. I walked away a few times, when he was loud and angry. I left the room or the house while he was yelling, "Don't you dare leave me!" But at that time, I didn't think of actually leaving him as an option. Later, after recognizing the extent of the abuse and deciding, "I am not going to live this way," I did have to begin facing what the next step would be. It didn't seem like an immediate decision that I needed to make in a hurry. I knew I could make it on my own, but I couldn't see myself leaving. I was still clinging to that little bit of hope that he would choose to relate to me as a loving husband.
M: What about those "sort-of" confrontations? Why weren't you more assertive in taking care of yourself in the relationship?
G: It took a very long time to sink in that all of this was not going to turn out okay. Then when I did realize it, I did not have the kind of strength and self-respect that would have been required to stop the mistreatment. I'm not sure I ever possessed that confidence, but if so, it had been beaten down and I was just numb. Had I been that stronger and wiser person, I probably wouldn't have been married to Jim at all.. He was attracted to the quiet, compliant woman I was, and might not have even liked me had I been otherwise!
There was something very wrong, that is to say unbalanced. Over and over I have said to myself, "This man, at least while I lived with him, was wicked or very, very sick." Probably some of both. He was very sick in the sense that he did not respond to life in what would be called "normal" ways. But I think he made little choices over and over again that led in the wrong, self-destructive direction—just like a diabetic may choose to disregard nutritional counsel, or a person with lung cancer continues to smoke. I believe Jim's choices shaped his body and his brain until the bent of his life was pretty nearly irreversible, and perhaps then he really couldn't any longer choose; I don't know. And I have to let God judge whether or not he was wicked. From my perspective, I will say that he did not show the spirit of Christ.
M: But God can deliver from such patterns, can't He?
G: Oh, of course! I really believe that. But it doesn't happen if a person is resisting change. Jim preferred not to submit to any of the costly or painful disciplines God might have used in his life. He just admitted that he loved pleasure and ease too much for that. God doesn't force us to undergo training. We have to present ourselves, prepared for whatever it takes to make us into His disciples.
Knowing that Jim was very wrong does not mean that I accept no responsibility. There's a difference between assuming responsibility and accepting blame. I did not cause the abuse; it was not my fault. I am able now to take responsibility for being the kind of person who could not stand up for herself and say, "This is not right." But it's still not helpful or realistic for me to examine the "Jim years" and tell myself, "Why didn't you just say . . ." "If you had just done such-and-such." If I could have said or done differently, I probably wouldn't even have been in that situation in the first place. The timid little steps I did take were all I could manage at the time.
To be continued.
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