The deeper, dark thread of betrayal in loss

I never know what will trigger a reflective thought regarding our losing Nathanael, nor what will trigger what I’ll write on, but I’m thankful for the ideas that keep flowing that remind me of him, our time with him in 2014, and really anything that helps keep his memory alive. So, thanks for bearing with me in this if you care to read along.

This latest revelation comes after watching a video of a couple who lost their daughter, Mary Grace, many years ago, having only 30-hours of life to be with her. They said that they had received all the love that she could give them; they were grateful for that.

As Nathanael’s birth approached, we never anticipated he would die due to cord prolapse. It wasn’t mentioned to us as a risk in his palliative care plan. We wanted a caesarean section birth, which would be less traumatic for him and Sarah, which would have assured us of having him born alive so we could meet him. This was denied to us, because it was suggested that caesarean section birth was ‘riskier’ than normal, induced delivery. They were wrong.

Sarah’s life was on the line because a ‘normal’ delivery was mismanaged from the start. Nathanael wasn’t monitored, which, only afterwards, we can tell was the first thing we unknowingly went along with, which wasn’t right. We should never have agreed to that, but did we know better? And if we hadn’t agreed, would they have listened to us? We will never know. If we knew he was stressed (and he was!) they could have opted for an emergency caesarean section birth… as it was, we ended up having the caesarean section birth, an emergency delivery, because Sarah was life-threateningly ill, but our baby was already deceased. They knew he had hypotonia and so the risk of an induced natural birth going wrong was, to us, obvious in hindsight.

But that wasn’t the first institutional betrayal we suffered at the time. There was another that cut us to the heart, so the experience above, horrendous as it was, actually wasn’t the worst of it. Doesn’t that put it in a stark context and contrast? How much worse a betrayal—as it felt to us—when you put it alongside a plan to manage the birth of our child that we’re sure they knew would not work?! (“These things happen,” our professor specialist told us, which Sarah predicted she’d say, minutes before she visited us after the birth and said those exact words—angry? Umm, yes.) How much worse than this was the first betrayal, though? I cannot begin to tell you! I have written on this but won’t share that at this time.

The betrayals mentioned above were actually extrinsic to losing our son. But now I want to show how betrayal is intrinsic to loss itself. When we experience loss, we experience a form of betrayal.

Here are some general truths:

Anyone who experiences loss will find there is a dark thread of betrayal that comes with the grief that must be reconciled.

Indeed, the grief cannot be reconciled until the betrayal deeper down is identified, ‘processed’ and resolved. Furthermore, within the thread there may well be several strands, as we found, that add further insult, and a lattice of complication, to the existing injury.

I think on an important level, we need to believe that the nature of the betrayal—how and why it happened, who it involved, etc—is immaterial, for healing to truly occur.

But there is the equal and opposite reality that, in many losses, it did happen, people were involved, and the sting of such betrayal does not go away—particularly when the other party does not own their wrong.

I am thankful for this, however; in rallying with my biblical bitterness (yes, there is such a thing for survivors; good news that God does allow for and even approve of a time for irreconcilable anger) I have learned so much more than I previously knew about forgiveness, and how, even in teaching forgiveness, we can too easily engage in spiritual abuse.

Let’s think about processing. We must start with the fact that the betrayal happened.

It really did. It was felt. It left impact in its wake. It wasn’t just real; it is real. And it’s a big deal, even if others deny it. Now, that breeds an increased sense of indignation initially. Processing is like ripping the Band-Aid off. It hurts, it tears hairs from the skin, and it may very well rip the scab off. The bleeding that once ago clotted over may again begin to flow out of the wound.

But it’s not all bad. Feeling all that we have to feel, in a safe, non-judgmental environment, can be and so often is spiritually invigorating. If you’re wary, be guided by the safe hands of a trauma-informed therapist. Of course, processing takes time, and it isn’t a race.

Rather than attempt to depict how to get to resolution, because to be prescriptive would not be helpful, let’s look at what resolving betrayal in grief looks like, to cast a vision for hope.

After many failed attempts at resolving grief—and I believe we learn a great deal if we don’t give up—we may learn we need to settle the underlying betrayal (or sense of being betrayed if there was no overt betrayal by a person or circumstance) before we can move forward into that trinity for life—peace, hope and joy.

It needs to be urgently emphasised that, according to Brené Brown, “We cannot selectively numb emotions, when we numb the painful ones, we also numb the positive ones.” The journey into resolving grief outbound of loss is in venturing inward to transact with the betrayal.

For me, and this won’t be the case for everyone, I found telling the story again and again, with trusted helpers, helped. I found that validation helped. Strangely, it made me less angry when someone said, “That was wrong, and it shouldn’t have happened!” 

I do hope this is an encouragement to you to explore the painful nuances of the betrayal you suffered in experiencing grief from loss. That is my prayer.

Now, there is no question that there is a great deal of loss in betrayal. I’ll save that for another article.

Photo by Frédéric Perez on Unsplash

Justice as a hope for healing for peace for trauma sufferers

“There could be just some trauma there,” said the doctor assessing my condition. His statement left me reflecting on my highly singular use of the word ‘trauma’. The doctor, of course, was talking about a localised condition where an area of tissue has suffered trauma.

I got to thinking how medical trauma, like psychological trauma, can involve localised effects or more global effects, radiating out to the effect of an existentially felt trauma, where an entire human being feels encumbered by the effects of the trauma.

The eggshell skull rule, predicated as a legal recourse to violence, specifies that the person violating another will bear whatever consequence their violence causes, for they will be held legally responsible for the effects of their violence; whether the victim has a rocklike skull, or one made of eggshell. See how the same acts of violence will have vastly different impacts, and there is a law that sides with the actual impact suffered by the victim.

Some traumas are local in effect for some and more global in effect for others.

And global effects are devastating in terms of hopes for healing and for the vastness in the variety of the effects experienced, whereas local effects are more easily contained to the source of the wounding and healing is contingent only on the right process. This said, in terms of psychological trauma meted out, those who cause much of the globally felt trauma are more globally problematic in their narcissism.

Much of what trauma survivors of abuse have experienced is of the global, existential, whole of person kind. These were no one-offs, considering the grooming that often goes on beforehand, or the environmental circumstances—the toxicity—and the image protection of denial and or minimisation that goes on afterward. The traumatic event may be one-off, however.

All the damage done is sited in one moment or perhaps more than one, but these are always upheld on a mountain of lies within the region of time, the manipulation of hope, the transgression of innocence, and the gall of the demonic. Anyone who quarries power and believes they’re innocent of harm done to another in their midst on their watch has a case to answer.

~

Trauma bleeds its way viscerally, furrowing into every fissure, and it wreaks havoc at a soul level. The goodness of God, however, within divinity’s marvellously immaculate design, is that through faith and the light of life, such devastation can be transmuted into the change of transformation, and a new life path unfolds.

From the cross of our trauma we’re resurrected to a purpose that focuses our life on healing, especially as we’re used as wounded healers in the healing of others.But this is no localised trauma we’re dealing with. And only those who have been wounded globally will be able to help those who have significantly more than local trauma to deal with, but they will need to make significant and satisfactory inroads on their own healing journey first.

What man has meant for evil, God can turn for good, but not through some filthy theology that pretends justice is done when it isn’t. Men who do their abuse and cannot concede intentionality are the most dangerous ones of all. But it’s not only men. There are women who support such men, who even idolise them, and there is a deeper, even more global trauma as a result, and the risk is of existential harm in the abused.

Today’s church has a unique mission field. Its ‘lost’ are not always those who don’t know Jesus, but within their ranks are those who may believe but who have been significantly bitten, betrayed and bruised by those who claim to be believers in Jesus. These are those vulnerable ones I’m sure Jesus spoke about in Matthew 18:6-9. True believers are full of light and bring the Spirit’s healing wherever they go. Nobody can claim to be Jesus’ friend and wilfully exploit others.

We are coming to a day when those who have suffered global trauma of abuse will have their reparation ground. They will be taken seriously. They will be defended. The Spirit of Jesus is rising up to conquer the falsehoods of faith and doctrinal absurdities that have crouched deep within the church for so long.

And finally, could it be that the initial abuse is more a local abuse and the refusal of the perpetrator to confess and repent is the more global abuse? This is not to say that in and of itself an initial abuse doesn’t cause its own devastating trauma, for it so often does, but how much worse, how much more global, is the trauma when the crimes are denied?

If justice is to be a hope for healing for peace for trauma sufferers, justice must be the next revelation, the coming realisation, of a present and coming reformation.

Such a hope must be a catalyst for action and change. Without action there is no reformation. The reformation we may speak of wouldn’t shirk away from those who bear the scars of a more global impact of trauma, for that is where the heart of healing goes—in a triage that cares as much for those who are most lost as compared with those who are least lost. This is where Jesus went, and it’s where we need to go too.

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The perfect unity of love and truth in Matthew Eighteen

We live in times where truth is relative; it is in the possession of its owner. Even passages of scripture that are wholly devoted to Jesus’ words are heavily disputed. Here, today, is just another contribution, but it is brought to you motivated by love, which, of itself, is deeply confused as a principle from one person to another. After all, you may say, what is love?

Let me explain to you the convergence of love in truth and truth in love:

I believe everything that Jesus said in Matthew 18 was underpinned by the dualism of love and truth. Not a lovey-dovey kind of love. Not partial truth. Not a wishy-washy kind of love. Not truth that’s ‘relative’. But a love that can only be understood when we understand God’s love, and if we don’t transact with God’s love, because of some kind of refusal or intentional unknowing or any other kind of resistance, we won’t get this kind of love.

God’s love cannot be understood until we are ready to acknowledge that we could be wrong. Only when we are humble enough to accept that we could be wrong are we ready to rally with the concept of the convergence of truth and love.

Love truly cannot be understood unless we see truth implicit in it.

And here is where it really means something. In Matthew 18, we could very much pass over the concept of love if it weren’t for the polarising role of truth in each of these passages. Matthew 18, of course, is one of Jesus’ five discourses in that gospel. Jesus uses the whole chapter to teach. He teaches about true greatness, God’s pursuit of those who are lost, how we are to love those we’re in conflict with back into the fold with the truth, and the generosity of grace and mercy in that most ‘irrational’ love of all, forgiveness.

Jesus teaches a tough love in this chapter—a love that cannot be separated from the truth. He exposes the idea that truth cannot be separated from love. Equally poignant is, love cannot be separated from the truth.

At a time when the disciples wanted to big note themselves—being so insecure at to need Jesus to affirm how great they were—Jesus loves them so much as to shame them through a rebuke intended to cause them to repent. Jesus loves them with the truth. But Jesus didn’t leave it there; he capitalises on an opportunity, to show love’s depth of commitment to truth by revealing the poignancy of love in justice. Jesus shows that love is perfected in the righteous anger of God’s indignation when the innocent are harmed. See the depth of God’s love!

Joining the first two concepts (true greatness [vv. 1-5] and temptations to sin [vv. 6-9]) together in the parable of the lost sheep, I’m sure that Jesus is teaching that God hates it when so-called godly people harm those who are on their way to God and halt their progress through one or more of a million forms of legalism and abuse. And even when one person is cast away, it’s as if that person is God’s own son or daughter—because they are God’s creation!

Then we come to the matter of ‘reproving another who sins’ — Matthew 18:15-20.

These are the verses that are so often abused when it comes to ‘church discipline’. This is about loving people with the truth; that love is embedded in relationships to the standard of truth. We love another person enough that we would go to them and speak the truth. We show our love for them if they ignore us by making a second attempt with another person or three in tow. And if they still refuse to listen, we love them so much that we expose the truth to everyone that they have no choice but to account for it. Love compels confrontation so matters can be resolved. Justice must be done. Love seeks restoration and it abides perfectly in the truth, because restoration cannot occur without justice being done, which is truth. Little wonder then that where truth cannot be realised, love cannot be fulfilled.

Wherever there is even an iota of injustice,
truth is unrealised, and love stands aggrieved.

The remaining larger portion of chapter 18 of Matthew is devoted to forgiveness, which brings together the concepts of love, truth and justice, amid the gratuity of mercy.

There is no greater love, the Bible tells us, than the love of a person who lays down their own life for a friend. (John 15:13; 1 John 3:16) And this love is epitomised in forgiveness, which is the demonstrative love of God in Christ, which we are able to partake in through our acceptance of Christ, and practically so, as we forgive others.

Forgiveness, again, is very much about the meld of truth and love. The truth is propounded in the fact that we have been forgiven. And that forgiveness came because of a consummate love—God cannot love us more and will not love us less. And in the forgiving debtor parable we have Jesus, himself, setting out the biblical ideal: God forgave us so we can forgive others. Now, if we responded to God and said, “Thank you very much!” accepting the free and merciful gift of grace, and say, “Thank you very much!” to those who forgive us, we are doing well. We have received the love offered to us. And if we’re awaiting others to say with repentant sincerity, “Forgive me, please?” then we can imagine we’re also doing well to wait patiently—there is nothing more we can do. We are ready to give the love that God invites us to give and that we have in fact given. We have faced the truth and are prepared to love. All good. And we are free to hold those at bay who refuse to honour the truth and deny the receipt of our love. It’s their problem.

Love is perfected through truth.
Truth is completed through love.

Things you’ll always have that can never be taken away

Counselling is simpler by far than a lot may think. By far and away the most important thing is to de-mystify the snares of life that emanate from the frailties of our minds—the false narratives we create, believe upon, and sustain by a shoddy lack of introspection; but equally that which we’re reliant on others to show us.

… what liberates us most is that these are common to us all.

… what liberates us most is that these commonalities of human frailty are common to us all; or at least to those of us who choose to be honest. From such a point, the invitation to spiritual healing is proposed. Encouragement abounds.

~

The first truth we must trust in is the fact of our common humanness. Accept this and existential freedom abounds.

We are so much like everyone else, even if we’re unique in every way. We all get mired in guilt and shame. We all think things are our fault that really aren’t. All of us who take too much responsibility for our maladies.

Of course, we either take too little responsibility (narcissists) or too much responsibility (empaths) in this life. The wiser person discerns adroitly their exact responsibility and they take only that portion. That’s a path that the empath can take.

There are two tasks here: 1) the discernment, which can feel cryptic, and 2) the courage to act, which can feel a bridge too far; “you mean I have to stand up for myself now; won’t someone do that for me?” No, they won’t. They shouldn’t. It’s ours to do that.

The things you’ll always have that can never be taken away are vast and true and ever yours. Of course, we are all walking miracles, powerhouses of God’s creative might, biology in regal stereo, with minds that can think awesomely, and hearts equipped to not only feel, but to compel action from feeling.

We have been forgiven. I repeat, we have been forgiven; for ALL our frailties, for all our capacities of lack, for our at times warped minds, for the wiles of our propensity to coerce. We experience this forgiveness, as justice would have it, when we admit our fault, our need of grace, and that we are constantly owned by the truth. All sounds so negative, doesn’t it? It isn’t. Nothing negative about it. The truth sets us free! But only if we accept we’re slaves to the truth.

The things we’ll always have that can never be taken away are vast and true and ever ours. Nobody is ahead of us and we’re ahead of nobody. It doesn’t matter how many ‘followers’ the next person has. They are human and so are you. It’s so sad that some people set themselves above others. Those who are given to comparison become either depressed or envious; neither is good. The paradox is that the person who sets themselves above others is least of all because they deny the truth that God put into all our hearts. Nobody is ahead of you even if it appears they are. And why would it matter if they were? We must stop coveting what others have and be grateful for what we have that nobody else has.

Things we’ll always have that can never be taken away are holy and good and ours. Even as we submit to fear, guilt and shame, we identify as human. Better to raise these to the layers of our consciousness than drive them deep into denial. Better to take responsibility for these frailties and admit them so we can grow through being unafraid of being weak for the guilt and shame we bear for being human. Healing comes through forthright, humble admission.

What can never be taken away from us—the Saviour of the world died for me—is something we will always have.

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Winning the war of love by losing every battle of hate

One thing that narcissistic people cannot do is heal. It is not their interest. Their interest is winning at all costs. And, they may seem to win at every point, insisting they get their own way, strategizing for the win, using their influence malevolently, but there is one area within which they lose every time—for all time.

The narcissist—seemingly living in the image of the enemy, Satan, himself—wishes to thwart every endeavour of goodness within the relationships, but just like Satan, they are destined to lose a war that is fought on a celestial battleground they know nothing about.

The malevolent one knows nothing about the power of love to defeat evil through the practice of death. Doesn’t sound very enticing, does it? We too quickly lose sight of the power of the cross to bring about cosmic reform. In one ‘foul’ swoop, the enemy is defeated.

As Christian people, practising Christian principles, going about our lives in Christian ways, we are all too easily tempted to complain about being persecuted, forgetting that this is the sign that we are God’s chosen people. Not that this is about glorifying suffering. Neither is that the way! But the Christian way is about bearing suffering in persevering ways, which is not resorting to revenge and counterattack.

Recall how Jesus was, as a lamb before its slaughterer, silent. I am not saying that we ought to be silent about things we suffer. We ought to do everything to the glory of God, and in so many ways that is about shining light into the dark places, reporting crimes, and bringing abhorrent leaders to justice. But we must do these things in a God-glorifying way, and the swiftest, most penetrating justice, causing least amount of damage to innocent bystanders, is that way.

As Christians, we ought to be ready to lose every battle so the gospel can be advanced for the winning of the war. That war is the conquest of winning one heart at a time; ours are hearts that must stay won to gospel cause, which demands humility of us over the long run.

No matter how malevolent other people are, especially when they’re against us, we must guard our own hearts to the extent that we resist temptation to contend, offence for offence. The only way we can overcome evil is through doing good, even if that often feels like a hopeless strategy.

Narcissists appear (appear!) to win every step of the way, and we would almost (almost!) be forgiven for our despondency, but God issues us a fresh challenge in the simplest of paradigm shifts. The narcissist’s win, we must always remember, is always distinctly hollow, because it depends on cutting others at down at the knees. It is a shockingly cruel stratagem and ultimately a comprehensively foolish plan.

Just like Satan was defeated when Jesus uttered, “It is finished,” our narcissistic nemesis is simply on a stay of execution. By carrying about the death of Jesus in our mortal bodies, by dying to our selfish aims, as Paul commended to us in Second Corinthians chapter 4, we issue others life, because of our mortal sacrifice. The enemy simply cannot contend with any level of altruism.

We ought simply to be glad that we know the truth; that the template was set at the cross; that we know the way forward for the Kingdom purpose; that there is a way of winning that comes about through losing.

Even the thought that we can allow the narcissist their pathetic win is a game changer. When we live in the gladness that the ultimate war is already won by not insisting on our own way, we have the tools to completely undo the narcissist without there appearing to be any effort from us. This undoing occurs at the level of the mind, but it’s undergirded by a heart committed to God’s way and not our own.

This doesn’t mean we don’t engage. We just engage in ways for the overall good. We know ‘this conquest’ is not just about them and us. It always involves others, usually many others. The overall good is about everyone. When we believe God can provide the answers we need—to help us establish a sound basis for the overall good of all—we find ways of doing it, one step at a time. Wives and mothers have been doing this for eons. Wives and mothers are still doing it. And many husbands and fathers as well. Anyone who serves their family to the extent of love’s sacrifice.

There is something incredibly encouraging about the gospel imperative; winning isn’t about winning the way the world ‘wins’. Jesus’ gospel imperative is that love wins over all. The belief that love wins gives us a quiet confidence as our battle mode. The pressure to win every contest, every argument, every stoush, we know, is off, because we know that that kind of win is beyond the point.

It’s typical that those who have endured much narcissist abuse require much healing. Sometimes there is such destruction of identity it takes much work and many years. Take confidence and courage in knowing, however, that in being transgressed to these degrees, you have not offended God to these degrees of evil; that your transgressor will face the ultimate justice. They lose.

Keep living for others overall, keep hoping on the victory to come, and most of all, keep the faith.

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The soldier of peace within a life of war

If life feels like a war, then we have read it correctly. The battles of life are impossible to avoid. And yet, biblically at least, we know we don’t fight against an enemy made of flesh and blood. We struggle against the powers and principalities that are unseen, and yet the signs of war are all too visible in our own behaviour and in that of others.

If we desire peace, we desire a good thing. Any Miss Universe contestant worth her salt would decree that she wanted ‘world peace’. We all desire that which will make our lives more comfortable, apart from those who say, “Hang the rest, I wanna be the best!” And there are plenty of those in that quarter.

Amongst those of us who desire peace, we must ask ourselves, why? Why is peace so important? If we desire inner peace without seeking peace for the other person, we are no more friend of God than the narcissist.

Peace must transcend our own selfish desires. Peace must be a global ideal or it amounts to nothing.

We only truly desire peace when we desire peace for everyone. Anything other than that is a lie. And yet, we must start from somewhere.

If we acknowledge that we face spiritual warfare each and every waking moment, and perhaps the moments in between, too, we imagine that we are in contact with the enemy at all times, whether we recognise it or not.

The knowledge that we are in all-out-war is all important; out of this, as if it were a wellspring, comes the purpose of life itself (see Proverbs 4:23 for this principle).

What I mean, is this: the fact that we are in a war means we cannot be inactive to survive. We have a mission. There is a life force in us. And until that moment when we transcend this life and tiptoe over the cusp of this mortal reality into death, while we live and breathe, while we can cogitate, while we can feel, while we can discern and judge, and while we can act, we have an opportunity.

Now is our time, like the fact that beyond this time is beyond our time. Now, and only now. Now is all the time we have to love our loved ones. Now is the only time we have to behave in ways that are not regretful. Now is the time to say what we need to say, and now is the time we need to do the things we need to do. Now is also the time where we ought not to do the things, or say things, we ought not to do, or say. But now is not simply about ‘doing’; it’s more about being and our driving, prevailing philosophy.

Now is the time to please God, which speaks of peace that is sown for the reaping of righteousness. Nothing else matters than justice and righteousness and fairness all borne on the wings of truth. No other fear is relevant other than the fear of the Lord itself. Fear of fellow humans indicates we don’t ‘fear’ God enough.

When our backs are against the wall, and the enemy is raging, and we are sinking into that dark pit, and we’re forlorn for response, we simply must trust.

Back against the wall?

Trust, trust, then trust some more.

Nothing is more important amid the ferocity of battle than to look to the Commanding Officer for the moment’s order. Our CO is saying, “Hold the line!” There is always a rising. There is always back up coming. We are never alone in this war, even if it feels like we are.

You may live this life, believing you’re a hypocrite. I know I regularly do. But we need to remember that there is no perfection in war, and tactical blunders are inevitable, forgivable, and even necessary. There will be humiliation. There will be times when we fail miserably. There will be times when we fall far short of our potential.

The direct route to God is to look for and to the CO. We must keep speaking our messages of hope and courage and faithfulness, even when the Lord has shone the light of heaven’s divinity on our sin of despairing and cowardice and disobedience. Especially then, for it is in the revelation of our wrong, and in confessing it and dying to it, that we gain ascent to the resurrection of the Lord. And it is the revelation of our wrong and our acceptance of God’s rebuke that we prove our worthiness of trust. God trusts us never more than when we’re humble enough to face our wrong and make restitution for it.

See how ridiculously kind the grace of God is in thwarting the enemy we battle with? All we need to do is have the humility to be shown the error of our ways and God will use us powerfully for a glorious Kingdom good.

Now, those who battle for Kingdom purposes, knowing that the war is not against flesh and blood, always see past the person of war, so they see the purpose of war. They see first and foremost the war in their own heart—the devil divides us in our inner being before he sets foot in the battles between us.

In godly humility, we see the fallibility in ourselves. We struggle to see the speck in the other person’s eye, because we’re so focused on the plank that’s in ours. This is the battle of personal accountability before the Lord. This is the primary battle; that God would own our own heart. Only then can we accede to the will of the Lord in others’ lives in trustworthy ways of leadership. What a divine paradox. Only the sinner who repents is qualified to lead.

We cannot contend for peace if our hearts are at war with ourselves.

We must reconcile with God in response to God’s reconciliation with us. God has done all the work in Jesus and look at the enmity and strife we bring upon God when we continue wantonly, and very often unconsciously, in our sin.

A sin done in response to a sin done against us never glorifies God. It mistakes the enemy, and we never fight for peace when we war against even those who war against us. They too may forget that we are not their enemy.

Jesus said, “Love your enemies.”
What is so hard to understand about that?

Having fought for peace by the acknowledgement of our own sin, in passionately believing in and acting upon overtures of reconciliation with those we’re in conflict with, we win the right to fight this holy war in the only God-acceptable way.

Above all, for the soldier of Christ, in seeking peace, there is the requirement of courage. It takes guts. It involves risk. It requires heart.

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Prayer for when you’re feeling overwhelmed

Feeling overwhelmed is a common malady in this busy life. I have found it helpful to pray when I’m overwhelmed, for it stops me fretting, which Psalm 37:8 says, only leads to evil. Here is a prayer to pray in seeking God’s comfort and guidance as you trust the Lord afresh:

Gracious God,

I feel the weight of this life, its concerns, my relationships, the varying priorities and the pressure to succeed, but I am comforted that Your Word reminds me that I am enough. My best, my faithfulness, my diligence, my obedience, my discernment; they are all enough. Thank You for these Words of comfort:

For the reminder to focus on what is pure and pleasing to You and praiseworthy and positive—to think on these things. (Philippians 4:8)

For the armour of God that I can put on at any time to protect me against the poisonous darts of the enemy—so I can take my stand against the enemy, as I know I don’t war against flesh and blood. (Ephesians 6:10-12)

For the fact that, in You, who planned for me to be here, who purposed for me the life I now live, who has prepared me, I have enough, and I am enough. (Psalm 139)

For the reminder that perfect love, Your love, casts out fear, and all I need to do is trust Your love and Your provision for me. (1 John 4:18)

For the truth that You are with me, indelibly through Your Spirit, that You never leave me nor forsake me, and that I can trust Your Presence with me when I face trouble. (Psalm 91; Hebrews 13:5-6)

You call me to remember a golden and everlasting truth; that when I need You most, Your yoke is easy and Your burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30) And I’m so thankful that You don’t resent it or me when I call on You when I most need You. You somehow understand that I call on You when I need You, and You show me that this makes perfect sense to You. And I trust the fact that You never change. (Hebrews 13:8)

You tell me in Your Word that I can take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ—that mastery of mind is possible, provided I put You and Your purposes first, and rest in Your strength in my weakness; for when I’m too weak to be strong, You are my strength. (2 Corinthians 10:5)

Lord, in the pain that represents the emotion of this moment when I’m all at sea, bring me to the safe recognition that You have already ordained for me a quietness of soul knowing You are the solution, and that so long as I look to You, it is well with my soul. (Psalm 131)

It is with thanks and praise, even in having felt overwhelmed, that I pray,

In Jesus’ name,

AMEN.

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What kind of apology conveys sincerity?

One of the mysteries in relationships is just how we redeem trust when trust has been betrayed. Here are the seven A’s of confession, which are a formula for a sincere apology:

Address everyone involved

There is an assumption we may make that we only need to apologise to the person we directly hurt, but how often are innocent bystanders affected. Even those who are indirectly affected, including those who were implicated or embarrassed, deserve an apology. In family, business and church conflicts, public confessions are often appropriate, unless each one is identified and made personally. Anyone who was ‘put out’ has a claim upon an apology. 

Avoid if, but, and maybe

“I’m sorry if you’re sorry.” “I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have done what you did.” “I’m sorry. Maybe from now on, though, would you…” In each of these words—if, but, maybe—there is a conditionality that utterly destroys the faithful intent needed to convey a sincere apology.

Admit specifically

This is where a great deal of thoughtful reflection is needed. If we don’t understand exactly why the person we hurt is upset, we cannot hope to convince them that we care enough to reconcile the matter. When we apologise, we need to be able to say what it is specifically that we did wrong or should have done better.

Acknowledge the hurt

This is where the heart, empathy, and the ability to transact with the other person’s pain is essential. This, for me, is sincerity in a nutshell. The other person smells insincerity from a mile off. So, this has the power of convincing the other person we really understand and care but without it the apology begins to look thin, like “You don’t really know how much it hurt me, do you?” The ‘A’ is about having the spiritual strength to sit in the person’s pain with them.

Accept the consequences

This is where the rubber hits the road as far as our willingness to suffer for having done the wrong thing. Will they trust us again? This ‘A’ acknowledges that we have no control over whether they’ll trust us again or not. It also accepts that there’s a punishment due, and it’s the capacity to say, “Okay, I’m willing to accept whatever it is I can do to make it up to you.” This ‘A’ is about making amends.

Alter your behaviour

How many apologies are given without those apologising committing to not doing what they did again? But true apologies are that sincere there’s a promise that behaviour will change i.e. repentance. Nothing communicates sincerity like, “I will never do this to you again.” Such a promise is a serious undertaking. And when we do promise never to do that thing again it will also require significant time and effort to bring it to pass.

Ask for forgiveness

A distinctly Christian apology involves the request of forgiveness. “Will you forgive me,” without making the apology conditional on it. The great thing about asking for forgiveness is we put ourselves entirely at the other person’s mercy, and that, you will find, is the crucial part in making relationships work—that we place ourselves at others’ mercy. Of course, wherever this is consistently abused we ought to install boundaries and that kind of trust we rescind.

Please note that the language of apology only works with good effect when the other person, too, has the ability to apologise if or whenever they would need to. 

Acknowledgement to PeaceWise ministry wisdom herein. Go to peacewise.org.au

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When counsel blurs into abuse

“There’s a prayer for that…” In other words, “Pray and all will be fixed.” “Forgive in all circumstances, no matter what they’ve done.” “I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt you.” “Don’t worry so much about the abuse they mete out to you, what about your sin?” Such dangerous philosophies for life. I won’t call it theology, because that makes a false doctrine something it could never be. None of us makes God our very own whipping boy.

This is something for every ‘minister’ to be wary of, whether they be pastors, counsellors, chaplains, or anything else. Words have power, as does the person who says words of counsel. With full belief a person will walk out of the room, unbeknownst to them, abused by crikey.

Some are switched on enough to know that something wasn’t quite right. This unnerves even the naivest disciple. Something amiss leaves one striving for explanation even if only their spirit knows.

Counsel blurs into abuse in the untidy second the helper is so self-assured that they reel out a cliché of convenience in a metaphorical wiping of hands on a job well done. It is a job well done of evil, that’s what. That helper has played right into the accuser’s hands.

The very moment the ‘minister’ does something or thinks something or says something without cognisance that “gee, this might be wrong” is the moment all of heaven holds it breathe aghast at the arrows flung from the enemy itself.

I could go on, but what does it matter? It matters! Lives are thrown about, tossed on life’s waves, to and fro, because of the careless whispers of those ‘qualified’ to counsel.

All. Listen. Stop. Words. Cut. Deep.

Wisdom, on the other hand, feeds an army in the succinctness of a sigh.

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