Hiding behind the good doesn’t minimise the harm already done

I don’t know what it is about some people and institutions, but when a scandal breaks, some hide behind the good that has been done in order to minimise the fallout created.

When the supporters are mobilised to protect such a person’s “good name,” I don’t know about you, but it always wreaks as inappropriate to me. If there’s a scandal, let the facts settle, and get the independent thinkers and real authorities (where appropriate) involved.

The best organisations and people have nothing to do with partiality and conflicts of interest. If a matter can’t be settled with all the facts laid out, there is something wrong.

Let the cards fall where they will and don’t allow people to tread all over a crime scene, not that we’re talking only crimes. This is just solid business and life practice.

Then there’s the issue of those who have done incredible things in their careers and ministries but are alleged or known abusers. What happens when a scandal breaks?

In one scenario, the abuser’s integrity—yes, that’s an oxymoron—has them fall on their sword, which is great (especially for victims of their assaults) when it happens. This usually happens when their guilt is clear cut.

But another scenario is all too predictable; the cover up is attempted, which involves the cranking up of the propaganda machine, and where there is a flurry of communication and alliances mobilised for a battle; to “save the ‘wronged’ leader.”

This kind of thing does victims significant damage. The victims are re-traumatised as their names are implicated in a “smear campaign.”

I know some reading this may have a bias toward believing that false reports are common, but I believe through over twenty years involved in incident reporting that people just don’t report what is destined to demand massive courage from them without the allegations having threads of strong truth about them.

In some circles, and particularly some (not most or all) church circles, where “God must be on the side of the leadership,” counterattacking allegations is seen as their right. That is skating on thin ice.

What occurs is the army of “friends” that are mobilised against the allegations cites the tremendous good that has been done, all the while forgetting that it DOES NOT MATTER how much good any of us does if there are serious immoral, unethical and illegal practices involved.

How is it possible that “good Christian people” can go into bat for a person with a stellar record who has also abused minors? Or, had “affairs” (i.e. in real terms, clergy sex abuse) in their time in ministry? Or, spiritually abused congregants or staff? Or, been involved in financial misconduct or another legal breach? The list goes on.

Nobody can vouch for a husband who looks impeccable but whose wife finally calls him a horror. Whatever you say to his defence is immediately disqualified because it’s irrelevant in a situation that involves what only his wife and family can see. How can anyone call her a liar, a mischief or (worse!) a Jezebel? To call anyone a Jezebel for calling time on an abusive marriage is itself an abuse—spiritual abuse.

We can well understand the shock, horror and disbelief we feel when someone who was seemingly above reproach and so full of integrity has to answer serious allegations of misconduct. The fact is nobody is beyond temptation, no matter how good they seem. It shouldn’t surprise us, but it does, simply because they vowed before God never to do such things!

This principle is the same in all those places where the person has no doubt blessed people, but where secret liaisons become coherently well known. A litany of witnesses compels the fan club to be quiet. And even a single witness deserves their hearing. If the person is innocent, let the facts stand in the person’s defence. Otherwise, stay quiet.

No amount of good covers for even a single incident of significant wrongness. And where there is such wrongness, repentance must meet the level of the wrong done. And it ought to be the victims who have a say about when the repentance demands mercy.

~

There is an old saying attributed to Warren Buffett: 

“It takes twenty years to build a reputation and only five minutes to ruin it. If you think about that, you’ll do things differently.”

Indeed, if only we walk daily with that reality in mind, that’s the “fear of the Lord” that drives integrity, because integrity doesn’t come from within us without depending on God.

Integrity comes from being truly accountable before God, and that makes us stand up and take notice of wise voices and truths everywhere. Integrity doesn’t lean on its own understanding.

Photo by Road Trip with Raj on Unsplash

Blessed are the courageous, who nurture a relationship with their pain

We all have pain. If we face it and feel it, and it doesn’t floor us, we have the opportunity to bear it. But if we feel it and it’s unbearable, and we must turn away from it, our act of turning away reduces our capacity for life, and the healing process continues to remain a future possibility. 

There is certainly a process in being sanctified through pain. And that can take a very long time. Indeed, I would argue that that bearing pain that cannot be reconciled is the ultimate faith, hope and courage. Those who bear enduring pain exemplify Jesus. 

… the gospel is indelible hope in the presence of pain.

We may wonder, though, how a good God and pain can fit together in the same sentence. But as soon as we realise the Bible documents how Jesus overcame it all, even as pain threatened to swallow him whole, we are shown the key for whatever pain we patiently (or not-so-patiently) bear. Let’s make no bones about it, pain is a crushing reality.

Of course, we must qualify pain. It’s such a broad term.

I think of it as anything that occasionally or continually threatens our wellbeing. Many people have chronic physical pain they live with 24/7. Others bear a situational pain, for instance, trauma survivors when they’re triggered or when they’re anxiously hyper vigilant about the potentialities of triggering events. Whenever we struggle with our mental health, we’re in pain. The past can be full of fragments of unreconciled pain. The future could be so bleak as to manifest to the present moment the pain of depression. That kind of darkness is as unfathomable as the deepest grief.

Being human at least involves what we call existential pain—a pain we experience in being human and in being alive. It’s the mix of fears, sadness, limitations, uncertainty, thought of death and other harms, and concerns for love and loss, amid the confusing wonder of life.

In the realm of existential pain is the bearing of the eventual frustrations that press upon all our lives. There is also the regularity of bearing moments we would prefer were over already. How few moments are true bliss! Yet, hope abides as we hold out for the notion of comfort. As humans, we are cravers of comfort.

I know and admire many people who bear either an unusual kind of pain or an extraordinary amount of it. Honestly, I marvel how they do it.

~

The truth of the matter is we all have a thorn in the side, that Paul said God allowed to prevent us from becoming conceited (See 2 Corinthians 12:7-10). It’s only those who sense they have no debilitation who are proud. Anyone encumbered by some manifestation of pain is humbled by their experience. And humility, we know, is to be prized, so we can value the role of pain, even if on the other hand we despise its presence in our lives and in the lives of our loved ones.

An elderly couple my wife and I know from our church have inspired us greatly to this end. Recently, the wife who was in her 80s died of cancer; a very painful battle. 26 years previously she had such a debilitating stroke it left her with the use of only one arm, and the rehabilitation process, to begin with, took several years. She lived a quadriplegic existence. Her husband has battled chronic pain all his life, yet he diligently cared for “his precious love.” The enduring image we have is of their smiling faces despite the pain and impairment they have borne continually for decades. They pray for everyone else, and I’ve never received more encouraging emails from anyone than them. They have prayed for my wife and I and our family continually for all the years we’ve known them. They ooze gratitude and thankfulness. Yet, there’s the reality of their pain. They’re real about it, but they don’t dwell on it. Out of their thorn in the side comes a courageous humility that would not be there otherwise.

~

Blessed are those who nurture a relationship with their pain, for theirs is a kingdom that endures and eventually overcomes. These don’t look like overcomers in the world’s eyes, but their attitude to life commutes courage for the fear that would otherwise cripple them.

15 situations where apology is unwise and possibly even dangerous

Apology is a big deal to me. Besides spending a lot of my life coaching people on the when and how of apology, I find that God is forever honing my daily practice; so necessary is it for relationship maintenance, intimacy and trust.

But there are definitely times when saying sorry is ill-advised at best, or downright dangerous at worst:

1.         When we know from past behaviour patterns that the other person will automatically assume that our apology equates to us taking 100% responsibility for the matter at hand. Our apology is more safely made when we’re dealing with someone we can have constructive dialogue with, who will also be open to discussing, in due course, what was their fault.

2.         When we’re not yet solidified in taking 100% responsibility for OUR contribution to the conflict. Whilst we take zero percent responsibility for their contribution, we must own one hundred percent of the contribution we made.

3.         When we’re not prepared to make the changes required that a good apology demands. Too often apologies are said that appear to us to be sincere, but still fall flat. If we apologise, we’re really saying to the other person that we know what we did was wrong and that we won’t do it again. It is fair and reasonable for the other person to expect change. We would expect change if roles were reversed. Nobody wants bad behaviour that’s been apologised for, repeated.

4.         When our apology may trigger something in them that would be bad for them. Sometimes people aren’t ready for our amends. We may be perfectly willing to make our amends, but the wisdom of Step 9 of the Twelve Step program is making amends is not about us. We pray for an opportunity when making our apology would only be a blessing to them; that it would not wreak further damage. This takes discernment.

5.         When we haven’t yet thought through the apology; when our level of reflection is superficial, we may find ourselves caught out in a very insincere situation, where they could duly ask, “Is that it? You don’t really understand, do you?”

6.         When you bear absolutely no responsibility for the conflict. In other words, abuse. Now, be careful here, because some abusers would use this to gaslight their victims into, “You incited me!” Uh-uh, when someone has been abused it would be inappropriate to take the other person’s responsibility.

7.         When we’re not yet prepared in our hearts to forgive. It’s sad to say, but very important to realise, forgiveness is not that simple. It involves nuances of mercy for a person or situation that in many cases requires a process of heart work. If we begin to apologise, but for some reason cannot yet forgive the other person for their contribution, that conversation could well backfire and make matters worse.

8.         When we’re not ready to receive their rebuttal or their rejection of the apology. Making apologies is risky business. It’s not for the faint-hearted. Indeed, it takes a lot of godly sincerity to say sorry well. Part of this sincerity is deciding beforehand that the apology, however well meant it is, may well be rejected, and it is infinitely better to plan to be open-minded and open-hearted enough to see their point(s) and to be able to journey with those points. Indeed, extra steps may well be demanded, and those steps could well be justified. The worst-case scenario is there may be no way back; they may write us off. We need to be prepared for this as a possible eventuality.

9.         When they ‘accept’ of our apology, but still refuse to forgive us. Yes, this happens a lot. They accept our apology, and they’re “just fine,” except we know by their distance that trust is not restored, and they may even say this. If we’re not prepared for this, it wouldn’t be a good idea to apologise yet.

10.      When our apology comes preloaded with conditions. This is the most basic error anyone can make. If our apology uses the words or concepts of ‘if, but, and maybe’ we stand on troubled ground. “I’m sorry, but if you hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have done that… sorry; maybe don’t do this again, because you can see how it made me react…” Conditional apologies betray the word ‘sorry’ even in the act of ‘apologising’, and what equates to victim blaming ensues. Apologies must be unconditional. If we can’t yet ‘stay sorry’, we’re not ready to say sorry.

11.      When we’re not equipped with all the information. Sometimes we think we know what we did wrong, and we feel ready. But what if the other person brings up something we hadn’t considered, and it blindsides us. We must go into the conversation expecting to hear what we hardly expected to hear.

12.      When there’s a compound apology to make. This rarely happens, because those who don’t apologise for an initial infraction usually don’t then apologise for their abject denial that made matters infinitely worse. But, let’s explore it. It’s that time when someone did something they didn’t own up to and, in denying any fault, it made matters infinitely worse. If we’ve engaged in behaviour that requires an apology for one behaviour that we have for some extended period denied, this compound apology is very complex, and mediation help is advised to be sought to ensure the person being apologised to isn’t further traumatised. Refer to point 4 above.

13.      When we haven’t thought through the possible requirements of restitution—how we will make right of the wrong done. This comes in at least two forms: the restitution we’re prepared to make or are about to offer AND their requirements of us in order to make proper restitution. We really need to think through the issues of what we’re prepared to do before we make our apology.

14.      When an apology might significantly change a relationship dynamic with a loved one. We always need to understand that even our deeds of goodness can be used by the enemy to create dissension and division. This is about anticipating the fallout. If anyone could become distressed by an apology we’re about to make, it would be wise to engage in dialogue with these loved ones or significant others first.

15.      If, at any time, our apology carries with it the demand of being trusted again. Apology is all about throwing ourselves upon the mercy of the court of a person’s opinion, and much of the time opinion is very difficult to predict. Having apologised, we can demand nothing.

I acknowledge the principles of peacemaking ministry, PeaceWise, in this article.

Seeing the subtleties within unseen abuses is crucially important

This is one of those issues you don’t see until you see it, yet when you do see it, you then cannot unsee it.

The subtleties at play in unseen abuse—the visible effects of abuse are the tiniest tip of the iceberg—are difficult even for trained people to see, but thank God, once we begin to notice them an ability to discern them is aroused in us. Unfortunately, we probably need to have had some personal experience to understand how it happens, its impacts and effects, the nature of personal trauma, etc.

Unseen abuses are not just the tiniest tip of the iceberg as far as range of abuses is concerned. The real worrying thing is that this is also about prevalence. There is much, much more unseen and subtle abuse going on everywhere right now and historically than we would want to know. Again, it’s personal experience that highlights how common this is. Suddenly, the light is switched on within us in terms of the criminality of minds that we see quite commonly in all our communities.

Those who really don’t care to care, who are aberrantly selfish (Christian or not), who have no desire to project a nice guy/gal image, again, are the tiniest tip of the iceberg. It’s the one with the nice guy/gal image who is getting away with murdering their partner, work colleague, etc, slowly (taking Jesus literally) who is a more prevalent problem. The former is obnoxious and it’s obvious they’re not interested in relating with others. The latter, however, are malevolently motivated and impression management is part of their guile. This actually adds a huge additional dimension to the abuse, because their cunning can leave us feeling helplessly imprisoned. Then add to this the nature within such a person who CANNOT see, and therefore has no hope of recovery.

Seeing the subtleties within the unseen abuses is often even a hard thing for trained eyes, but in this #MeToo and #ChurchToo day, there is much more information in general circulation, which helps.

If someone indicates they don’t feel safe in a relationship or they declare to us that they feel they’re being abused, we must listen. We must be bold enough to open safe space for them to share, but without any sense of coercion, because that in and of itself will make the person feel unsafe and too vulnerable. We do not want to add to their anxiety or trauma.

It is more important to listen and to say safe supporting and particularly general things in the conversation, like, “no abuse is acceptable,” and “everyone has a voice,” and “relationships should not hurt.”

If we were to badger someone we feel is being abused into telling us what is happening, we too would be harassing the person who may well be dealing with a lot already. It would be better to build a support base for them that involves listening and availability—“I’m here if or whenever you want to talk.”

Listening in agreement

If they do begin to open up, it could simply be a case of listening in agreement before venturing into the territory of “what now?”—in other words, trained and skilled support for referral. Don’t assume your pastor is equipped. It would be better to put them in touch with people who already specialise in abuse support.

Listening in agreement is important, because the narrative within the person being abused is very often a mixed up or messed up one. They may know they’re being abused, but they may also underplay its severity, especially if it’s been going on for some time and has become normal. They may have some warped sense that they’re partly (or wholly!) to blame, when in fact they’re blameless for being cruelly treated. They blame themselves and battle with guilt usually through another subtle form of abuse: gaslighting. They’re made to feel they’re blame-worthy; that they’re the problem or even part of the problem—“if you didn’t do this, I wouldn’t do that,” for one example. Of course, this is a lie.

Listening in agreement, against what we might think, is actually what abuse victims are not expecting to experience, even if they desperately want and need to be understood.

Seeing the subtleties within unseen abuses is crucially important. Anyone in the vocation of helping people needs this discernment if they’re not to add a dimension of harm to the lives they’re trying and are entrusted to assist.

It is also important to see that people are abused usually in more ways than one.

If there’s a subtlety of financial or social abuse there, there will be other abuses, too. Spiritual abuse underpins much of it, as perpetrators coerce significant doubt into their victims. It’s not unusual for survivors of abuse to resonate with every kind of abuse. And it’s not that victims need to list a litany of types of abuse to be believed.

In every visible abuse, there is much unseen abuse going on.

And even when there are no visible marks or indicators of abuse apparent, significant harm and trauma is occurring wherever there is unseen abuse occurring.

It’s time to acknowledge the lasting impact of grief and trauma

We truly have no idea about many things until we have lived those things. Like grief. We can talk about loss until the cows come home, but until we’ve experienced the irreconcilable stuckness of grief that cannot be changed or impacted we really don’t know what we’re talking about—indeed, what we’re talking about is a departure from one life into the entrance of another, and it is stark the contrast.

Any “grief” that is a temporary sojourn before normality arrives soon enough isn’t grief in the way many of us have come to know it.

Loss occurs for many reasons. It’s not just the death of a loved one. It’s divorce. It’s being scapegoated. It’s career loss or redirection. It’s relocation against one’s will. It’s anything we didn’t choose that has a lasting impact.

Trauma has a lasting impact. It’s like the lady I rendered first aid to nearly ten years ago, where I gave expired air resuscitation. I breathed for her for twenty minutes before sprinting half a mile for a defibrillator in office shoes. Little did I know it at the time, but that kind of action, with adrenalin coursing through my arteries and veins, caused me to react physically for two full weeks after, including a constant headache, stiffness in the neck, blurred vision, muscular spasms, etc.

I did not know this woman (who later died) and yet the act of trying to save her caused a lingering trauma, that thankfully only lasted a few weeks. This is not the kind of lasting impact that true PTSD and C-PTSD survivors face constantly or intermittently through their lives—the effects of their trauma manifests in a way that changes their lives from those moments of trauma forth.

If you’ve been changed by grief or trauma—or by whatever you’d choose to call it—and that change has lingered long enough for you now to know there is no going back, you know what I’m saying is true.

Let me validate your experience. You’re not weak, nor are you less than Christian. 

If you’ve been so hurt that full forgiveness still seems so far off, even when it was a long time ago, don’t assume you lack grace. The gift of a different perspective is still on its way. Don’t stress.

If you struggle to trust, there are reasons you struggle to trust, and God doesn’t condemn you one iota—God understands your struggle, your effort, your journey, your pain. Your struggle to trust is based in the strength of logical reason. It’s not a simple fix.

If you cannot control the tears, the pain within you is real, it is valid, it hurts like hell, and all the more it shows you as an empathic lover of goodness who grieves what is lost because anyone with a heart would. Those with big hearts feel pain all the more acutely. Your inability to control your sorrow is because you are so full of loving tenderness, which is such a godly trait.

If you struggle with the cycles of anger, sadness and guilt, and still cannot reconcile all the myriad fractures in your relationships, this is for reasons of reality. Let’s not fob you off as being less-than. You’re amazing that you try so hard to integrate love and relationships so perfectly you’re bound to fail because you’re human.

What all of this has taught you is this. There are few simple answers to the complex questions of life. You’ve become guarded around clichés for good reason. Your wisdom has been sharpened, and your discernment piqued. You’re not the same, and even though you’d have what you had back in a heartbeat, you are somehow a person better equipped for now and future, but that isn’t in terms that the world would see.

Through you enduring your pain, you’ve been prepared for something out of this world. That reality is coming to all of us sooner or later. In the meantime, empathy and compassion are the gifts of lasting relevance you’ve received as compensation for what you went through and continue to endure.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Compassion for the injustices you continue to face

Whenever we combine a soft empathic heart with violence—and just as much a jilting and dismissive disdain—we arrive at a soul that bears trauma that cannot easily be healed.

There are no pat answers that do justice to this situation-of-soul whereby what was enormous potential was crushed. There are no simple answers, period.

What makes life even more complicated for the injustices that we bear is the complicated nature of anger is it bridles guilt with justice—on the one hand, anger is justified, but on the other hand, the effects of our anger leave us torn to shreds over its impacts. The last thing we want to do is harm the ones we love, yet somehow, time and again, they faithfully bear the brunt of our outbursts and tirades.

We need to feel understood. There needs to be a time of silent reflection where you can say, “Wow, finally I feel like I’m being ‘met’ here!” And there is nothing quite like people simply agreeing with us that an anger response is understandable, even if it’s not ideal or what we even want.

Love is a funny thing. It’s action-oriented, we know that. But love puts up with a lot too, surely in the firm belief that change is possible. It takes a long time to truly extinguish love’s flame, and in certain roles (for instance, parenting), it is impossible to do such a thing. And if the flame were to be snuffed out through loss or desertion, for example, it causes trauma for the parent.

These are the words I’d share with the person who, against their own will, struggles to regulate their emotions for what they’ve suffered:

It is unfair and it was unfair. That part of your life will always be unfair. The injustices you faced have rippled into not only your future, but they’ve hurt others who love you, too, for what these events have caused you to suffer. These injustices are evil and should never have happened. No matter what the next steps are, I hope you have someone who will unconditionally affirm these injustices with you however long they need to be affirmed for you to find healing.

You were transgressed and never, ever does that part of your story diminish in its significance. Never should that part of your story be glossed over. Never ever should it be, “Come on, now it’s time to get over it.” Indeed, if I know you this much, I’d say, you’re the one wanting to get over it. 

But don’t be too hasty. You will need to tell your story and the unfairness of what you face for perhaps a very long time and it will need to be repeated so many times ad nauseam. You will need a safe space for your anger to be expressed; for safe, healing expression. If it’s in a counselling room, you will need complete safety and assurance that, during these times, your words and tone are unconditionally acceptable. You may swear, cuss, scream, etc. But for your own benefit, in safety. It doesn’t need to be with a trained person. (When I needed this support in my life many years ago, it was my parents who played the role.) You may need to speak the same things over and over again.

I finish by reflecting on how Jesus must feel as he sits or stands beside you, ever present at the silent sojourner with each of us. He must be so proud of the courage you’ve shown, back when these events happened, and ever since, as long as you’ve carried this burdensome grief.

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

Hope beyond anger for healing for men who have suffered abuse

First of all, let me hang a label out there. For the purposes of the exercise, let’s just imagine the label belongs only to me. (There is no sense in offending anyone, because the truths that apply here belong to everyone. Everyone wears this label the moment they walk entirely in their own understanding, where life suddenly has to be all about them. I can tell you; I’ve had those seasons. We all do.)

Here’s the label: NARCISSISM. If you can read no further, I’m sorry, but to get anywhere we need permission to talk truth. I am narcissistic when I insist on me being above others. When I must be served first; when I must be understood rather than understand; when people must agree with me while I reserve the right to disagree with them; when respect must first come my way or I’m disrespectful; when people must be compassionate with me even if I’m cruel with them.

I am narcissistic when I cannot and will not see that my thinking is entirely egocentric. (The word “ego” in Greek literally means “I”—when everything is about me.)

Let me first suggest an orienting thesis for this article:

Narcissism is caused by abuse,
which is none of the narcissist’s fault,
but that which the narcissist must heal
if they’re to recover from their narcissism.

That, there, in a nutshell,
is what we’re dealing with.

Putting it in the “I”,
when I’ve been abused—
not the abuse itself—
but my responses to get healing
are my responsibility.

The abuse they were afflicted by is never the narcissist’s fault. They wouldn’t be the way they are if they hadn’t suffered a vacuum of love—or perhaps it was such a paucity of love, they feel they were hated or despised by someone they needed love from. It’s not across the board, but in some crucial area of life they have been afflicted with a trauma that undid them.

In some cases, too, the “abuse” the narcissist suffered was living under a tyranny of entitlement, which was a bubble that burst the moment they hit the real world. When you’ve come to believe everything revolves around you, what do you do when you realise it doesn’t? Well, that is a truth that is all too commonly too hard to face. The “abuse” was the neglect of reality.

The abuse was not the narcissist’s fault. But how they respond to it now is. First, not everyone who is abused becomes narcissistic. Many people are abused because they’re empaths. Vulnerability is their way, and for better or worse, they’re more vulnerable because the default is to trust. Empaths when abused are traumatised. But being empathic, they can’t bear to live with the trauma and so they do become quite desperate for healing, whereas the narcissist buries the trauma, and either cannot face it happened or they cannot stay there in that pain.

It is a great gift to have the capacity
to enter our own pain. Not everyone can.

People who become entrenched in narcissism sense the great injustice that has happened to them, yet paradoxically they cannot face it.

They become resistant to the fact that there is now a weakness in them, not realising that weakness is in all of us, and that facing our weakness is the secret to attaining true strength.

Compassion for those who are angry

Compassion is a dangerous arena for those who are battling narcissism. They lack insight for the things they now need to take responsibility for, whilst demanding compassion from others as their only way forward.

We know we’re in real trouble with a narcissist when we give them compassion and it’s like giving them an inch—they demand a mile. Tragically it enables them! Too often too many of us have found ourselves trapped in a cycle of enabling the narcissist just this way.

Compassion is actually a great test. When anyone responds well to compassion their anger decreases. If anger increases or demands ensue, watch out. But if compassion brings peace, and even a renewed effort to understand and journey with one’s own material—and the pointing finger is put away—we’re not dealing with a narcissist. That’s evidence of hope for healing right there!

The trouble, in any event, is compassion—other than kindness we should be offering anyone, all the time—is not really what they need in the first instance.

Compassion is merited to the narcissistic person as they begin and continue to get the log out of their own eye. Many it seems don’t have the capacity to do this.

Now onto the real reason for this article.

Hope for recovery for men who have been hurt and abused

If you’ve made it this far, well done. This is actually where I wanted to start, but I found that when I did, I needed some wind-up time.

Men who have suffered at the hands of others, there is only one way to go if you want to make anything purposeful of your life. For what you sustained, for what was done to you, for what is none of your fault, somehow you alone have the responsibility to put it right.

That will sound grossly unfair.
That alone could make you seethe with anger.

From your angle, it is unfair. It should not have happened. I could think of many expletives that might give some warrant to the injustice of where this is at for you. You shouldn’t be in this place. But you are. Staying in this place will do you and everyone else in your life no good at all. You know this, of course. There is a way forward.

I found it in the rooms of AA. The secret is biblical gold bullion hidden in plain sight, but if you google “How It Works,” or go to an AA meeting you’ll come 90 percent the way to acquiring the healing you strive for now. The last 10 percent is always the hardest—the hard heart work.

The first ninety can be understood in the mind. The last ten must be absorbed in the heart. And this last ten can be summarised in these few words:

Will you give yourself wholly to this program?

God will withhold nothing from anyone if they will only GIVE themselves entirely to the program of recovery. This is the requirement of brutal honesty that looks one-hundred-and-ten-percent INWARD. Yep, you guessed it; the moment we begin to look at anyone but ourselves, the mystery of healing disappears from view, like oil that runs through the fingers.

Now, we can become so conditioned to feeling like, “Poor me, poor me, pour me another drink.” That’s exactly how sprees of drinking and drugging and abusing occur. There’s always an underlying anger that shrouds what is more truly sadness and fear.

We have to get out of the stinking thinking.

But here’s a portion of the secret. A surprisingly blessed thing happens when we look INWARDLY—when we get stuck in getting the log out of our own eye—when we stop looking at others’ wrongs and stay continually in our own wrongs; those wrongs of our angry responses to the sins done to us.

The more we stay in the place of seeing and addressing our negative responses to the harms that were done to us, the more God does something incredibly healing! The more we see our responses of anger and abuse, the more we put these things right (as much as we can, for some things cannot be fully righted), the more power for joy and gratitude and abundance we experience.

To take responsibility for our own responses to the injustices that have happened to us frees us. Responsibility is the ability to respond. If we cannot begin to account for our responses—if we’re unable—i.e. we cannot take responsibility—then we’re marooned in a place that eventually leads to stinking thinking and ultimately narcissism if we’re not careful.

So, I’m here to say as compassionately as I can, please don’t demand others’ compassion and understanding. But as we begin to show compassion and understanding with others, those things will be measured out to us also.

But we don’t do compassion and understanding because we need them. We do our compassion and understanding because others need it and because it’s central to OUR healing.

I want to say as a counsellor and pastor I believe ANYONE can recover from their narcissism and that I’d always be prepared to work gently with someone who is ready to tackle it.

Postscript: I know in writing these words that there are holes inevitably in the thinking and writing, for which one day I will be answerable in the face of God. I take none of this lightly.

Photo by Simon English on Unsplash