I used to wonder if I could talk about anything else.
Every conversation seemed to turn into talking about the gospel.
It didn’t matter if I was at the grocery or shopping or working at a consulting firm, every conversation somehow ended up at Jesus.
It was fun.
I wondered at times if I was some sort of weird nut. Surely there were other topics of conversation out there! But I loved this one. And the Lord seemed to honor that.
Several years ago, I remember thinking back to those days and just wondering. Do I chalk that up to the first few years of being a believer? Do I chalk that up to being in the secular world and not the church world? Maybe now I’m just more in a season of discipling believers? I still know it’s important, but I sure don’t feel like doing it.
One day in the car, I was really wrestling about it with the Lord. I remember sitting at an intersection when my frustration became clear. Christ was worth it. Christ is worth sharing. That I believed. But I wasn’t so sure I wanted to invite people into His kingdom.
It broke my heart, but it was the truth.
I had this disturbing conflict. I knew that loving the Lord had great gifts and advantages. I knew Christ was amazing. And I knew eternal destiny was important and powerful.
But being part of His kingdom was so unhealthily hurtful. I was so grieved by the treatment in the kingdom, I just couldn’t bring myself to invite others into that devastation. I didn’t want others to come into the kingdom and treat me like I was being treated by so many other Christians. It was destroying me, and I didn’t want to expose them to it. I didn’t want them to get hurled at. And I didn’t want them to join the hurling.
I had undergone so much hurt in the Body. At the time, I couldn’t figure out why, and I wasn’t having any luck finding someone to help me figure out what to do about it. I knew Christ offered life, but this just couldn’t be it. There was no way this was the ‘life abundant’ He offers.
So many days I remember driving away from church thinking I was never darkening its doors again. Any doors. Of any church. Ever again. I didn’t even want to be a part. I certainly couldn’t bring myself to invite others into it.
So here I was at this intersection asking the Lord if it could just be Him and me. I loved Him dearly. But I just couldn’t handle the hurt of the church.
I remember His response clearly,
“I wasn’t decapitated.”
I chuckled a little in my pain. Yes, good point. Christ was crucified, not beheaded. The Head of the church wasn’t separated from the Body. I can’t have just the head. I can’t run around like Herodias’ daughter. It’s the whole kit and caboodle.
I asked the Lord to show me how. How in the world was I supposed to invite people to be a part of this Body that was so incredibly hurtful? How was I supposed to invite people to be a part of something I was asking Him to take me out of and take me home?
His answer, for me, was through helping me understand the precise thing that was causing my pain. For me, the destruction, the hurtful relationships, the distrust, the feelings of betrayal, the health problems all boiled down to persecution — a specific type of persecution and how I was (or more accurately, wasn’t) responding.
“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” ~ Matthew 5:11-12
I tried to do what people were encouraging me to do ~ to have an eternal perspective. Persecution on earth yields great reward in heaven.
Yet I am now unconvinced for me and my situation, that the most godly perspective was simply to endure with an eternal perspective. As the Lord was gracious to show me with the ‘they’ who persecuted Jesus, I also suggest that the ‘they’ who persecuted the prophets is the same: unbelievers. I do not believe enduring persecution at the hands of believers is the godly, eternal, eternally rewarding perspective.
I was so struck reading this in context recently. The very next verse says,
“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.”
The verse about salting the earth is right after the verses about being persecuted and people saying false things about you. It can deaden you. It can make you flavorless. It can sure take the saltiness out of you. It was very intriguing to me as it resonated with my seasons of feeling thrown out and trampled by men.
I’m going to admittedly make a leap here. While I can’t be sure the text says this exactly, I also am not unconvinced it can’t mean this: How we respond to the false things people say about us can greatly affect our saltiness. It can greatly affect our usefulness for the kingdom.
With unbelievers, enduring persecution may be just the thing the Lord wants for us, for our reward, and for His glory.
But after a lot of wrestling, a lot of time, several battles, and some wise people along the way, I believe the Lord is gracious to show me that persecution at the hands of believers is a whole different ballgame.
If you’ve been following {double hockey sticks}, you’re well aware that I slowly came to understand a concept that I used to call ‘imposing sinful motives.’ When I would do some benign action, as best as I can describe it, it felt like some people had a handful of sinful motives in their back pocket, and they would pull one out and say (I’m making this example up), “Your working late was completely self-serving. You are simply trying to get ahead and get promoted.” And I would sit there totally perplexed. I stayed late because someone needed help, and I thought I’d help them. I couldn’t figure out where people came up with such ‘creative’ explanations.
One or two here or there may be tolerable (though I don’t even advise tolerating one or two). But consistently from a person, people, or a community? I thought I could handle it, and I actually thought I handled them pretty well. But I had no idea what it was really doing to me.
I had no idea the way the enemy (or my sin nature or some combination) was using it to gain a foothold. I thought I was fine. I thought listening to these things was selfless. I thought not considering myself and hearing them out and seeking to understand was the honorable thing to do. I thought defending myself was some sort of selfishness or unteachability. (That’s what I was taught, so I guess I wasn’t so unteachable after all! : ))
This ‘imposing sinful motives’ is described in the clinical world as presuming to know a person’s thoughts and motives and negatively characterizing them. It is defined with a hefty term: verbal abuse. To me, it sounded very overstated. It took me a long time to accept that the term could apply, it took me a long time to then accept that it did apply, it took me a long time to be willing to allude to it, it took me a long time to be willing to write it, and it took me a long time to be willing to speak it.
Now that I understand it, now that I see its veracity in Scripture, and now that I understand the effects its had on me, on my life, on my relationship with the Lord (whom I love dearly!), and on my relationship with my husband (whom I also love dearly), I now completely embrace that it is called abuse for good reason.
Pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. ~ C.S. Lewis
The Lord has used some things to help capture my attention about its intensity. The breadth and depth of what was, for me, ongoing unrecognized abuse continues to surprise me. My internal turmoil about sharing the gospel was certainly one of the things affected. Major health issues were another. And – is this TMI? – not wanting to *really* kiss my husband was another. Though he has always been incredibly supportive and never verbally abusive, as best as I can now understand, there was something about being hurt by the mouths of others that made kissing feel intolerably invasive to me. Even when it was by someone who loved me and didn’t hurt me.
Many aspects of my life – including my saltiness – were greatly affected. I had to learn to protect it. For me, that came with how I responded to persecution.
After identifying and understanding that some of the things being said to me were unacceptable to the Lord, I also had to realize that ‘hearing people out’ was *not* the selfless, godly response.
“We are to develop our lives, abilities, feelings, thoughts, and behaviors. Our spiritual and emotional growth is God’s ‘interest’ on his investment in us. When we say no to people and activities that are hurtful to us, we are protecting God’s investment. As you can see, there’s quite a difference between selfishness and stewardship.” ~ Boundaries
Godly selflessness isn’t deferring to the other person. It isn’t absence of self. Instead, we are actually called to be stewards of ourselves. Protecting ourselves is stewardship, not selfishness.
The Lord used my health issues to practically force me to take care of myself. It felt so awkward. I care for others – that’s what I do. Yet here I was, day after day, having to focus on myself. So uncomfortable!
Yet it forced me to get past what I considered as ‘selfishness’ in caring for myself. It forced me to value caring for myself as stewardship. And that led me to expect different treatment from fellow believers. I now believe we are called to call other believers to treat us as the Lord would have us be treated.
As I’ve learned to gain awareness about what is actually destructive feedback (though it may sound godly) and protected myself from it, I am blessed by how much the Lord has healed me. Though I would love to never have to be in a verbally abusive situation again, each instance has been an opportunity to be a steward of the investment the Lord has entrusted to me. Each time I have protected the self He gave me, it strengthens me. Each time I interrupt the negative character speculations, it energizes me. Each time I stop the abuse, it enlivens me. And each time the Lord challenges me to value the woman He has called me to be, it heals me.
As He heals me, His godly desires in me are returning. All of them.
(And that makes for a very happy husband!)










