The chapter on abuse and failure

We’ve got our home back now, dad and me. Slowly things are returning to normalcy. There is no constant demand on my time, and I don’t have to be the ever-vigilant counselor, friend or sister. I feel like a burden’s been lifted. It’s a good feeling indeed.

I set out to help someone who was in need. The need was genuine: her husband was abusive. Somehow though, the full force of caring for her fell on me. We weren’t ready as a church to look out for her. Her abusive husband got a lot more care, somehow. It made me so furious at the time – and to a point it still bothers me, but I’m recognizing our limitations for what they are. By the time people were ready to reach out, the friend I was helping was excessively wary of everyone. I don’t blame her. The comments weren’t all kind and a lot of things came across as nosy, insensitive and judgmental. “Do you think it’s God’s judgment?” “Give me the specifics of what happened so that I can pray for you.” There were so many of such comments. It was all a bit much. What I didn’t see was that it all sort of played into her own area of weakness, which is to cling to one person over and above all else. That person was me. So – she made me her centre, a position that I really did not want. My boundaries were constantly breached as she had no one else to turn to – and I was increasingly frustrated with the situation, not to mention, exhausted.

The question I struggled with most was whether the desire to break free from her clutches was godly. I wanted my freedom. I missed hanging out with my friends the way we always used to. She was always around, and it changed the dynamic of all my relationships. It didn’t bother her – she was oblivious to it. I constantly wondered how I should be living this out. It is hard to share everything. There are some relational dynamics that I don’t want to share all the time. Jesus didn’t help because he gave His life up. That example and what Paul said about being poured out like a drink offering weighed so heavily on me. How to break free? How to be godly? How could I justify asking her to leave when we have space at home? It was a difficult one.

All of a sudden, my world came crashing: Patches died. Sleep was elusive. I was shattered. My darling boy was no more, and the pain of loss was searing. My friends surrounded me with their love and care. This was just such a godsend. They were sharing in my loss in a way that really helped me. It was in this moment of loss and love that my boundaries were breached again. My friend was unable to cope with a lack of attention, and the demand she placed on my grieving time and space was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I asked her to move out.

I wish I had asked her to move out right away. I didn’t. It got ugly. My friend couldn’t understand why I was furious. Her breaches of boundaries against others were something she forgave so easily. She couldn’t forgive it when others breached her boundary. I wasn’t ready to help her work it out. I was grieving Patches’ loss and I resented that she was infringing on that time. Her complaints were that I accepted love from other friends but rejected her. It was tiring and I didn’t want to discuss it further. The questions about what I needed to do and how I should act in godly fashion still haunted me though.

There was a Tim Keller podcast that I listened to that helped me on that score. He explained how Jesus set the standard: open arms on the cross so that all could come in. I remember my heart sinking as I heard that. However, he went on to say that that very standard set us up for failure, for it was impossible for us all to live up to it in the same way. The relief I felt was palpable. It was what I needed to hear. Jesus knew that I would never be able to do what He did. I could strive for it and in this instance, with this friend, I really tried. However, I needed to recognize my limitations and surrender them to Him. My motivations for wanting her to leave were simple: I needed peace of mind. I needed to heal from losing Patches and I needed my life to be mine. I couldn’t bring about godly behaviour in her either when I gave in to her demands. I had been doing that for almost 2 years. I don’t expect her to see this. I’m disappointed in some of the things that she has said and done since she left our home but I’m not about to fix it. This is something she needs to do with Jesus.

As part of the church that let my friend down, I too have failed. I couldn’t steer the course to the end. This is the stark reality of who we are. We can’t really fix things. Only Jesus can. He’s helping me fix this feeling of failure in myself by showing me how we really are destined for failure on so many counts. I don’t think we’re ever meant to stop trying to fix things. Didn’t James say ‘What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or a sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. (James 2: 14 – 16). This verse has been so helpful in understanding what Paul talks about when he says he’s alright with being poured out like a drink offering (Philippians 2:17). It is essential that we labour for others and that we help as much as we can: it would depict Christ working through us, His church. However, we never become the cure. We just don’t have that power. Paul seems to say this in 1 Corinthians 3: 5-7: What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. I need to repent from trying to be the cure. I am not the cure and I never will be.

I bear my friend no ill will, though I don’t see how it will be possible to have a healthy relationship with her now. She too must pick up the mantle and start displaying some of the work of the Spirit. I wish her well in that – I hope she lets God work in her. It will show from the way she treats the people she has blamed for the collapse of her relationship with me, I should think. Letting God work in her will bring her true healing. However, I don’t need to worry about that now. I just need to let Him work His healing in me through the lessons I have learnt from this chapter. I need to look at how He’s bringing people into my life to partner with me in the gospel and to share in coffee dates or other fun times with. He’s also sent me Loki. I’m overwhelmed at the amount of healing He’s sending along my way and the realizations that come along with it. It’s phenomenally humbling and shows me how much love He bears me.

This chapter with my friend has left an unsavoury taste in my mouth. I feel like I’ve failed. Yet, this failure has shown me how God has been working and how He has protected me from losing more areas of my life to a person who cared not for my boundaries at all. It has been wonderful having time to read at home or just do nothing. It’s been superb being able to have conversations whether on the phone or by messaging, without a person waiting to have a talk. It has been great having people over again – some had to stay away because of the offence that my friend felt they had caused her. It has been good having time to chat to my dad without a third person present. It has been good to participate in community lunches and conversations in church without having to dash off. All these healing moments have shown me that despite my sin and lack of significance, God cares and that He is working within me indeed. I take great comfort in that. I hope He lets me recover from this long episode and I hope He grants me wisdom that I may be able to act in a way that is in line with His Will if ever anyone is in need of help.