Tuesday, July 25, 2017

I'm Not That Bad After All

We're all wretched worms (Scriptures talking) and worthless, our righteousness like filthy rags. But I have come to realise that we're also more than that.

The past few years have shown me the dark side of marriage. The suicidal phone calls years ago from a broken wife. The pained messages from hurting sisters... We can't, we shouldn't ONLY think of ourselves as wretched, useless. Because it is when we only view ourselves as useless, that we begin to believe the lies their actions teach us. When they whisper to another woman, "You are beautiful," he's not telling you that you're ugly. He's really saying HE is ugly. His soul is dark, wretched. When he breaks you with those punching fists, hurting you so bad that the police are called in, HE is the one who deserves it, not you. Not you, the one who dealt with all his flaws, his failings, his errors without ever laying into him either verbally or physically.

A few years ago, I stopped rejoicing at weddings. I knew what the Blueprint was, in terms of how couples should (biblically speaking) behave towards each other, how they should respect each other..and there was very little of that. I saw anger, heard bad words, in the presence of little children and in ours, uncomfortable guests. And I thought, "If this ugliness is allowed to happen before me, how bad does it get when there are no witnesses besides the little ears?"

With each husband who 'jokingly' put his wife down, I felt bad. With each woman who emasculated her husband and spoke to him like he was a piece of dirt, I wanted to hide myself.

And so, I feared. Will they be happy, or are they smiling today in their neat suits and white wedding gowns only to grow tired of each other in a few years' time? Snapping and hating each others' presence, telling all and sundry that they cannot wait for the other to just go away?

Now it's even worse. I'm older. Those couples have moved from even that stage to a worse one. One where they call me in tears. One where they have been so badly broken by the one who was meant to protect them that I don't know how they have not fallen apart. I have had the horror of begging my weeping friend not to kill herself. Over the phone, in a totally different province.

I have seen the worst side. The dark side. The secret side. The abusive pastors. The lying elders. The hateful husbands. All within my own church.

I have seen and I will never be the same again. I have sought for counseling help. There is none. Our church has roughly the same divorce rate as the world but there is nothing. No resource. Nothing to help our sisters who are trying to recover from infidelity. No sermons aimed at them. No ministry focused on building our sisters down who were torn down by the ones who swore to love, protect, cherish, and honour.

Who will love our sisters when the ones they gave their hearts to trampled upon them in the worst way possible? Where will they look when there's nothing to see within our own doors? Where will they go for help when no-one seems to care?

Why are Sunday-keeping churches open that infidelity exists and that it is a crisis that needs to be talked about?

The Lord of the Sabbath cared about our hearts, our souls.

The lack of support. Of ministries. Of practical advice is destroying the silent sorority soul by soul. Some have stopped going to church. Some no longer read their Bibles.
The men who claim to represent God on earth, who claim to be His mouthpieces have no words of comfort for my hurting sisters.

When there's no-one at church to turn to, where do we expect them to go?

It's not only the youth who are leaving the church.

When will someone do something about it?

*I might be wrong about the specific church where you are, but sjoe, I was born in the church. Have been to churches in England, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Tanzania. I've looked online and seen TD Jakes' sermons, sermons by Sunday women... And most importantly, my sisters and I know for a fact that where WE are, no-one cares about those wounds caused by the ones we sleep next to at night. They are the invisible sufferers. Uncared for.

I am back. I do not know for how long. Nor how often. Nor what I will blog about.
I know I will not share what is going on in my own life, as I have also seen the dark side of blogging, where people stalk but do not comment. Where people read not to support but to spy. Not to learn, but to gossip. Not to be inspired, but to cause harm.

But I have seen the dark, raw, 1am WhatsApp messages side, and I could not be silent. If I don't speak for the hurting sisters, who will?

And back to my title. I am not THAT bad after all, as imperfect as I am. And neither are they. They will never be so bad as to deserve to have been lied to before God, the angels, family and friends. Never.

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