Bullies always work in twos

I saw it again today plain as day, three kids, two against one.  It was subtle, about as subtle as a sledgehammer, really.  But still, to uneducated eyes it comes across as, “There’s something wrong with you,” when it’s actually clearest that there’s, “Something wrong with them.”

The scenario I saw was easier to see because it involved kids.  When adults ‘play’, or when kids are pathological, it gets murky.  Who am I fooling?  All bullying is pathological.

Why?  Because it’s intentional, and we know it’s intentional because it’s repeated.  The behaviour isn’t just nasty once off and then, “Let’s be friends,” or “Oh, I’m sorry for my unkindness.”  No, it’s repetitive, continual, a pattern of horrid behaviour.

Time and again, targets of bullying are held in the sights of the malevolent.  And whether it’s two bullies or just one with an enabler doesn’t matter.  Two against one is generally how it rolls.

The enabler plays an important role either egging the bully on, covering for them, or by playing favourites so the bullied have genuine cause to doubt it’s bullying—much to the extent that the bullied person feels “it’s my fault.”

This way, the bully sets their heart to get into their target’s mind.

Bullies never work alone.  Imagine a bully without support in some way—whether that support is active or passive is inconsequential.  The bully doesn’t have the gumption required to attack one for one, unless there’s a decided power imbalance, and yet when there’s a power imbalance, it’s more likely they’ll draw support from those who don’t want to upset the applecart.

So you can see the cowardice in the bully—they don’t compete on equal terms.  There is always the need to guarantee the win.  And because they’re inherently malicious, when the bullied person will settle for any semblance of peace, the bully is still busy scheming.  To interact on equal terms is far too much of a threat to the bully, because they’re so full of fear.

There’s no rest for the bullied, and this is a huge problem, because anxiety becomes them even in the absence of the bullying or the bully.  The bully ensures there is NO rest for their target.

Changing the dynamics is important for the person being bullied.

The bully needs a somewhat static target.  Changing environments is key when things get toxic.  No plant grows in a poisonous garden, and we human beings are the same.

We cannot grow in places where our bodies sense the tension of an attack that always comes by surprise.  Not only can we not grow, so often we cannot survive.

We may ask ourselves, “What on earth motivates the bully to behave so reprehensibly?”  It bamboozles us.  And we can be thankful if it does.  If there’s no capacity in us to deal spitefully then that’s a very good thing.

Bullies always work in twos, whether by number or pressure or power.  They always work the advantages but blessed are any of us that never do.

The only way to live the right life is by never insisting on the advantages, but by working to enable those who are disadvantaged to get advantage.  Whenever we do this, God confirms this as right in our hearts.  Better to be the bullied than be the bully, always, but better when we stand alongside the bullied so they know they have a friend.

Rebuilding trust and growing intimacy in marriage

Along the meandering lifelong path that is marriage there are bound to be periods that test the marital bond.  If we consider that time, the changing situations of life, individual mental health, and two people with two sets of experiences, as just a few variables, apart from the fact that there are inherent challenges to intimacy, we can see why remaining happy in marriage can be tricky.

But let’s suppose there is either a reason trust is broken or that trust has waned over time.

It can definitely feel as if it’s only your own marriage that is under pressure, as that couple bond is stretched, conflict forms more often, and individual preferences and activities begin to prevail—or continue to reign.  We easily forget that many couples struggle for intimacy.

Honesty is the vital ingredient of intimacy, but that requires courage and trust, even as honesty offers something that may not be returned.  But honesty needs to be underpinned by a heart for the partner.  It’s not about being honest for our own gain; it’s about being honest for the relationship’s gain.  

Honesty’s not telling it “As it is” for my benefit, it’s telling it as it is for our partner’s benefit—i.e., it’s being truthful with our partner.  Such is the bilateral nature of marriage, truth begets truth, but if only one is being truthful, it’s unfair on the truth-teller.  Their sacrifice is for nothing.

Honesty offers an olive branch in faith, and says, “I want to show you who I am, and I invite you to show me who you are.”  Honesty presumes that the other will match honesty for honesty.  Honesty is the sacrifice required for love to shine.  Now, if a partner won’t return honesty for honesty, the faith extended is betrayed.

But if the relationship has suffered any significant damage, or intimacy has been missing for a time, honesty when it really counts can seem too much of a risk.  Trust can only be rebuilt through consistent offerings of self-sacrificing honesty, especially on the part of the transgressor.

Rebuilding trust and growing intimacy in marriage isn’t hard, but it does require commitment from both partners in first their acknowledgement that it’s lacking, and secondly that they see it as the lifeforce they need and are missing out on.

The truth is, we don’t feel any of the benefits of love, like feeling close to our partner, and deriving joy from being with them and in partnership with them, unless we’re prepared to make the sacrifices to show love—and that’s honesty.

When a couple has that moment where there’s freedom for honesty, where there’s reward for the faith shown in telling the truth, there’s no judgment and no condemnation for how things are.  This is intimacy.  It’s the intimacy we all crave in our coupled relationships.

As in all relationships, intimacy’s supreme moment is safety in being able to be completely honest in the relationship.

Marriage without intimacy can feel like you have something that you don’t have.  It can feel like you’ve lost something that tantalisingly remains, if only in hope.

Rebuilding trust and growing intimacy is worth the work, but it does require both partners to desire it and to do that work.

Leader, you’re not always right

In my first article—Parent, you’re not always right—I described a situation where a conflict occurred in our household, and the moral to that story was it took someone brave enough to intervene, to BE the circuit-breaker, to intervene in speaking the truth in love, to inspire a redemptive action—a peacemaking conversation—so that justice could be done; a more powerful person (me, the father) apologising to a less powerful person (my son) because it was right and just to do so.

Power dynamics are always where conflict runs awry.

In a perfect world there would be no power differential and there would certainly be no misuse of power.  In a perfect fallen world, it would be great if the powerful always had the humility and courage to honour the truth wherever and however they fail the less powerful—to always respect the power differential and to never misuse their power.

I want to focus here on the three roles highlighted in the first article:

1.             The powerful person who wrongs the less powerful person

2.             The less powerful person who is wronged

3.             The bystander who bears truthful witness to the wrong that was done

In all conflict situations, and certainly in many issues of abuse, especially where there’s been attempts made to glean justice for the wrongs done, there is the bystander.  This person who knows what has been done enables abuse when they stand-by and do nothing in the face of what would otherwise be a great opportunity to broker reconciliation.

Peacekeepers are not peacemakers.  Peacekeepers will stand by and do nothing.  Peacemakers will speak the truth and they keep lines open for reconciliation because they speak their truth in love.

At the very least, a person needs to trust that their calling another to account—presuming they know both well enough to care—might just be enough to cause them to repent.  Their obligation is to try.

~

Finally, as the article title suggests, leaders aren’t always right, and therefore shouldn’t always behave as if they are—that they always have the right of the final word.  Besides, what really sets the great leaders apart from the also-rans is their ability to graciously deal with those who are wrong.  The best leaders lift people, yes, that’s all people, especially those who are under them in terms of power.

The best of leaders routinely stand in the gap where there is a lack of respect to restore the balance of dignity that’s lacking.  It’s a positively regal quality of the inspiring leader that we’re all called to aspire to; to be a leader everyone would want to not only follow but to be genuinely associated with. 

But what’s most important to recognise is the leader is not always right.

Even if they have the loudest voice, and can drown out every other cry for justice, they’re not vindicated because they have a megaphone in their hand and others don’t.

That’s what happens in abuse situations as the leader uses their superior leverage to “DARVO” and gaslight the weaker party to make of them a nemesis.

In effect, this selfish leader uses their influence for their own gain and to further protect themselves from being held accountable for their contemptable actions that has further deprived the one with less power recourse to the power that might vindicate them to a worthy justice.

And there is always the enabler/s who avail to the selfish leader safe avenue to corrupt power.

The greatest temptation of a leader or anyone in a position of power is with those people and in those situations where they could get away with injustice.

The heart of the leader is what counts in those situations.  How they use their influence, how they deal with people and situations, is paramount, because not only is nothing done in private or in secret, it is reprehensible to do injustice with blatant intent.

Everything will be exposed.  So it is best to confess it now while we can.

But clearly exposure doesn’t threaten those who believe they’re beyond such vulnerability.  Leaders can feel they’re perfectly justified to adjudicate matters, and those that do also ensure there’s no recourse to review.

The leader who can hold tensions and always abide by what is right, including repairing relational situations where they’ve been wrong, are the only true leaders.

The bystander is either an enabler of justice or injustice.  It’s up to each of us in this role to be committed to speaking the truth while doing so in ways that promotes reconciliation.

NOTE: this is general advice, and it’s no statement about leaders in my context.

Parent, you’re not always right! – part 1

 

Things were going really well for us on the night in question—some great family time followed by a timely purchase of a new microwave (which Dad went down and sneakily bought!—the old one had been broken for months).  We had spent quality time beforehand and now we were setting up this new item in the kitchen.

Isn’t it strange how we hardly anticipate when things are about to go pear-shaped?

As I was packing everything up, having set it up, it was decided I’d put the old microwave outside onto the back patio and place the new box inside another room (so it can be played with at a later time—as a family, we really enjoy boxes ).

To get the microwave outside required carrying it through our small living room area, and floor is usually filled with toys and other items, and on this occasion, there was a game, a favourite (though fragile) toy of our son’s, and an iPad(!) on the floor.

In my traditional bull-at-a-gate fashion, I warned my son to quickly pick up the items as I was coming through.  (I gave him all of about 8.5 seconds to do this!)  In my typical over-confident manner, I picked up the old microwave and carried it over him and as I moved toward the door, my left foot trod on the fragile favourite toy of my son’s and it went ‘CRACK’ under my foot.  This toy is no bigger than the palm of your hand and it transforms from a number four to an aeroplane.

Immediately there were tears, and almost as immediately I felt that mixed up sense of guilt with self-righteousness—“I’m so sorry” with, “son, you should’ve picked it up beforehand!”

The next few minutes involved our son crying and avoiding me and my gentle lecturing, like, “there’s a good lesson in this,” and because it was his bedtime, I continued the routine.

Being an ‘investigator’ investigating some of the more serious fire and emergency services safety incidents, I felt perfectly ‘qualified’ to adjudicate here—but I wasn’t being heard.

My point was those toys and items should not have been left there to be stood on.

By now, my son had burrowed his head into the corner of his bed, and I had a proper view of his butt!  He was hearing none of my wisdom.  He wasn’t saying, “Thanks, but no thanks,” he was actually saying, “Go away.”

I kept trying to resolve it and I liked to think I was making some headway, before my wife poked me discretely and gently in the side, beckoning me to another room.  She simply whispered to me, “Should you have been carrying that big heavy thing over him where you couldn’t see where you were going?” That’s all she said.  It was all that was needed.  My heart responded.

Immediately I knew she had a point, and I’ve come to recognise that when Sarah speaks, it’s often the circuit-breaker we’ve been needing.

“And one more thing,” she said, seeing my response to correct the situation, “Use your quieter voice.”

Knowing I was wrong, AND being the committed peacemaker, I went straight up to my son’s room and said, now with a softer, calmer voice, “Okay darling, I need to apologise.”  Pausing for him to respond, I continued: “I should not have carried something heavy like that over you—that was unsafe—and in doing so, I couldn’t see where I was going, which was irresponsible of me.  I also didn’t give you any time to clean up.  What I could have done is helped you clean up quickly and got you to hold the door for me.  I am really sorry for doing that and breaking your transforming toy.  Would you forgive me?”

Immediately I said this, owning my responsibility with all my heart, he moved toward me and whispered that he was sorry, too.  Immediately, he took full responsibility for not having kept the area tidier.  “It wasn’t all your fault, Dad.  I forgive you.”

Our son is eight.  I learned when my daughters were growing up that those who are least powerful appreciate it all the more when bigger, grown-up people accept responsibility for their errors; not only does it model how they should live, it brings into being the wisdom that comes from justice—all humans are sensitive to justice and injustice.  The principle works throughout life.

I guess the point is, as parents we are power players in our households.  We might even lord it over our kids at times—come on, let’s be honest.  The main point is, when a parent apologises there is great power for change in the heart of the child—because they’ve experienced justice, and because they’ve seen that heart change in someone more powerful.

Power in relationships is best displayed in weakness.  When relational dynamics of the more powerful are depowered, those with less power are empowered to make good choices.  There is no better way to dignify another person than take away barriers to their making good choices.  When we parents (and power players in life) behave in ways that “do justice” we remove these barriers to good decision-making in others.  Justice is the way life should be; indeed, it’s the upside-down kingdom of Jesus!

Humility is best seen through the person with power as they honestly own their error.  It lifts the less powerful up, and ANY bad moment can be reconciled.

I’ve got more to say on the power relationship and the power of apology in the context of leadership in part 2, and I will also focus on the dynamic of the bystander (Sarah) in what is a most pivotal role.

You’re just the man I want to counsel

You’re the man I’ve encountered so many times, and indeed so many times have encountered in myself.  And I want to help you, as others have helped me.  Seriously, I do.

You don’t know this yet, because you haven’t experienced it—this new life—but I want to plead with you to do this journey by faith—I must plead with you, because you’ll hate every step of it at times.  You’ll think the world’s against you and that those who love you aren’t treating you right, but you must believe me: we ALL want what’s best for you.

You may be a husband and perhaps you’re a father too.  You rationalise the good things you’ve done, and you think that’s enough.  As you’re happy to settle for “good enough,” you secretly demand others do the same.  I say “demand” because nobody can really challenge you at this point in your life, because it’s your way or else.  Relationally, it’s absurdity.

Little do you know it or perhaps you inwardly do, you’re making life impossible for those who love you, those who don’t want to give up on you, those who are secretly praying there would be a heart change of humility take place within you.

I want to serve you, dear man, to help get you to that place where your heart has been renewed and humility overflows from within you, spilling out and into others lives.  Deep down, you, yourself, see the need of this miracle.

But you hold on to the old way with stubbornness.  The old way has got to go.

You’ve come to a precipice for such a time as this.  The crossroad is stark, bleak, and it evokes dread.  Suddenly, by circumstances beyond your control, you’re forced to choose between two ways of life—neither of which you’ve ever lived.

The way ahead is a brand-new way and that scares you to death if you’re honest enough to stop transferring your fear into anger, or worse rage, where those who love you walk on eggshells.

The truth is, if you’re anything like so many people, that is, people who keep rebelling against themselves, others, and life itself, you need to be brought to the valley of decision.

What seems like the worst reality of all—to have lost everything or to stare down a significant part of that reality—is actually the catalyst of the very best thing that could happen to you.

BUT.  This is the biggest BUT.

YOU.  Yes, you man.  It’s up to you.  Your strength will be gauged on whether your heart can submit to the work ahead of journeying humbly one step, one day at a time.  It takes tremendous humility to do that.  And everyone who knows you, and even as you know your present self, may doubt you have the fortitude to manage such a transition into a life that is so other-than what you’ve lived.

The key task: stay in YOUR stuff.

Of course, anyone can do it.  But it requires rigorous honesty and the ability to stay in YOUR stuff.  Indeed, that’s all that is required.  The moment you point the finger to blame another person is the moment you lose all power for change, and you regress back to who you’ve always been.

The key to your progress and transformation is staying in YOUR stuff, that is looking ONLY for your own negative contributions to conflict and relationships, confessing these, apologising, forgiving, reconciling, making amends.  That’s when you know you’re transformed.  When you LIVE that most if not all the time.

You’ll need mentors and accountability partners, and certainly nobody who will feel sorry for you, but people who can empathise whilst helping you stay in YOUR stuff.

I want to work with you.  I want to see the miracle happen in you that happened in me 18 years ago.  And please be assured, you can only do this journey with divine help, so I hope you’ll reach out and up.  I hope you’ll learn to listen, to consider what others are saying, and indeed that you truly begin to LIVE for others, for in that and in that alone is life.

If you read this and take this to heart, you’re the man I sincerely want to counsel.

Those we love are loaned to us

It happened while I was driving.  “Those you love are loaned to you one day at a time... you don’t know when that loan period will expire.”

Our dearest ones—our partners, our children, our parents, our grandparents, and grandchildren—are loaned to us.  We so easily assume that we’ll have them forever.  This isn’t the case.

And it’s not just death that robs us of these relationships, but it’s death I want to focus on, because it’s inevitable, and by focusing on death, we make the most of our lives in the here and now.

~

If I had one last day to do what I love to do, THIS is what I’d do...

If tomorrow was my last day, and I had the choice of what to do, I’d conduct a funeral.

It’s quite an irony I find that I most love doing funerals and yet there will be an end in funerals for me when I’m the one in the casket.

Funerals are the most salient of all living experiences.

The honouring of a life, of memories shared, honouring loss and grief, being there with and for one another, saying what needs to be said, memorialising an unforgettable life; these are just some of the reasons funerals are important.

At funerals, people cannot escape that most inescapable of realities of life—death.

On my last day, it will be me in that box.  Think about that for one moment.  It makes you reflect on what’s important in life.  I carry thought of my death with me most if not every day.  It influences many of my choices.

I will be the only one at my own funeral who’s not alive.  Everyone else there will be there to say their goodbyes.  And those who love me most will have difficulty saying goodbye, such is the impossibility of grief to reconcile satisfactorily.   And the reality of difficulty around saying goodbye shouldn’t be frowned upon.

~

Death gives life it’s meaning, if only we can view the whole of our lives, every single aspect, through the lens of, “This life is fleeting.”  Through the lens of death, perspective is granted.  We live wiser, more compassionately, sweating the small stuff just a little less.

If that loved one of yours isn’t going to be around for ever, what can you do to make the most of the moment?  Let’s not fall for the folly that everyone who’s here will remain indefinitely.  Cherish the time you have with them.  Make right what you’ve done wrong.  Set records straight.  Seek the forgiveness of those you’ve wronged.  Have those conversations you’d regret otherwise not having.

Make the most of the time and opportunity, now, while you have it.

A two-year period when home was not a happy environment

2009 journal entries are like a world away from the present day.  In those days, my eldest daughter (17 at the time) was living with Sarah and I, and it would be fair to say that all three of us had seriously unmet needs.

There are many reasons why there were unhappy dynamics in the home, and especially for wife and daughter there were seemingly insurmountable challenges to be worked through.

Three-way disputes erupted often, there was much aggressive and withdrawing behaviour, the slamming of doors, drive-offs, that sort of thing.  Regularly, all three of us would be exasperated.

Now, Sarah and I were doing a lot of work with our counsellor to help make our marriage the happy place we desperately wanted it to be.  Seriously, it took two years to navigate.

Yet for my daughter, her entire future was up in the air, and she was finding her way with school and a difficult part-time job and negotiating other momentous relational and logistical challenges.

When I look back now, I see both their situations with an enormous amount of pride.

Within the space of a year from May 2009, these two had both overcome the challenges they were both presented with.  From mid-2010 onwards, there has been a deep respect nurtured between my wife and my daughter.

When my daughter moved in with us in February 2008 there was such a clear values divide between my new wife and her, a stereotyped (not stereotypical!) 16-year-old.  Again, both had such pressing needs, and they both had very defined needs of me, and the fact that these needs were often presented in opposition, it’s little wonder my solace was work during these two years of my life.

But in the couples counselling process, I was still just discovering how to be an effective husband—how to put my wife first when my children had become my ‘number one’ when I’d been a solo dad for three years.

Seriously, it took nearly two years for two things to happen that would transform our marriage.

The first was that I needed to make practical changes to ensure Sarah really was my number one, and that our marriage unit really was the centrepiece of my life.  The second thing was a subtle though significant change in Sarah—she resigned herself to the fact she couldn’t change what she’d been so desperate to institute.  Both of these things coincided with my daughter’s moving off in any event, contented, into adult life.  Yet it was also as if my daughter had resolved to accept things she couldn’t change as well in this season.

I know there was a shift for all three of us.  All three of us grew up a little as a result.

And seriously, Sarah’s and my first decent year of married life was year four because of these adjustments that were necessary to be made—our persistence paid off.  It would be grossly unfair to say my daughter contributed to these issues, because in many ways she was vulnerable to growing pains in our marriage, plus there was a significant change in my relationship with her she had to adjust to.  My mother became pivotal in filling the gap.

~

Step parenting is hard because it’s never natural, and there are ‘love’ challenges to be overcome—both ways.  Love does not come naturally, even if that’s our desperate desire.  This is so hard to say and admit because our love wants to overcome these challenges.

Bonds of love that are nurtured over a decade and more are not procured overnight.  And step parents and step children need to acknowledge they’re a threat to each other.

For the parent who has children in the marriage to their step parenting spouse, there’s the constant need to balance the needs of all, and yet the marriage must come first, otherwise that which is the very foundation of the family becomes brittle.  This assumes that both adults in the marriage are genuinely seeking the best for the marriage AND family, including individuals, and that that balance is being struck, with no selfish desires present—and we need to be really honest in assessing this.

Our experience pastorally is that couples who are conflicted DO NOT SEE their selfishness.  And then there’s the situation where both partners have real needs, but conflict begins when they individually DEMAND their needs be met a certain way.

Even good desires can birth conflict through a source of selfishness.  The ‘what’ might be appropriate, but that doesn’t mean the ‘how’ is.

Within the marriage of partners who are genuinely seeking the best of all, the children must be loved, but children aren’t entitled to shake the foundations of the marriage, and yet neither is either partner.  The common good must be sought by all, because only in this do individuals thrive.  If individuals don’t thrive, the common good isn’t served.

Children as well as the parent and stepparent all prosper with effective counselling support.  It’s best if all parties (both partners and the child/ren) genuinely seek contentment for all.

NOTE – my wife helped me write portions of this article.

Loss teaches humble survival in the adversities of life

Loss is an eye opener.  It opens one’s eyes to the depths of life possible in this life.

Until we’ve suffered through loss that cannot be shaken or resolved, we don’t realise what little power and control we possess in this life.  It’s true that this doesn’t occur to us until we’ve suffered, though there are rare individuals who do somehow empathetically understand without having yet suffered the salient depths of grief.

But suffering is and always will be the rudest awakening, even if it may not be quite as raw as our initial foray into trial.

The depths I sank to in my darkest sortie into grief 18 years ago were a ground zero—the end of one life and the beginning of another “reality” that was completely foreign—and yet I was astonished with how hard 2016 was.  Put this into context with the utterly incomprehensible 2014 losing Nathanael and being simultaneously stressed by the leader of our church.  Though I knew in 2016 what it was like to live as if all my desires were dead, that year showed me what it was like to live as if I were existentially alone, such was it that I was absolutely cast out of all that I loved doing and being.  I’d been considered “disloyal” when I’d done my level best to be faithful, and I felt many considered me an abject failure.  There were so many fragments of rock bottom in that year, 2016.

Only in the past year or two has the Christian world been rocked by what I knew back then was a toxic dynamic—that of blind loyalty.  Thankfully, such blind loyalty to one’s leadership has been shown to be the toxic dynamic it is.  This dynamic caused me no end of grief, and you know this is the case when you try to please people and it still isn’t working.

Such a year like 2016 forces you to sow hard into the rebuilding, like building again from the foundations up.  Sowing as it’s occurred has been the easy bit, because I’ve got no problem saying yes to God.

What I’ve struggled with is soul tiredness of a deferred hope that makes the heart sick.  Sowing, sowing, sowing some more, yet little reaping in the way you expect to reap.  Yet God has opened unexpected doorways.

I’ve found personally that though there are times I’d give up, even in this present season, I’ve also found my God and my faith won’t allow me to.  I keep getting cause for hope, and that’s at least an admission of how blessed we really are.

And that’s it.  Somehow, no matter what’s ripped away from you, there’s still so many reasons to be thankful.  And still, what cannot be ignored is that riveting experience of a mind bludgeoned by thoughts of dread for the loss.  And again, that’s the blessing having truly carried our losses as cosmic burdens from that first day forward to the very present, that life has come to now have a depth about it that’s irrefutable.

Loss teaches us that life is fathoms deeper than we’d previously contemplate.  Loss shows us that the bandwidth of life is unintelligible.

Loss invites us into humility, to know that we’re truly small, and this simply serves to right size our expectations.

Loss teaches us to estimate ourselves more truly according to the reality of our being.

Loss summonses us to maturity, and though that’s the hardest living process of all, we wouldn’t be who we are today—empathetic, resilient, and compassionate—without having grieved.

Psalm 35’s biblical curse against the abuser who thrives

You know what it’s like.  The abuser has done their horror.  Then they redoubled the horror through silencing you, through gaslighting you, through denying, attacking, reversing victim and offender, through every weapon you did not know about until they pierced you with it.  They win at every post, and they leave you destitute for justice.

Then you open the Bible and find yourself reading psalms like Psalm 35:

The psalmist calls for the Lord to contend with those who contend with them, to fight against those who fight them, to take up the shield and buckler, and brandish the spear and javelin.  “Arise to my aid... defend me against those in pursuit...”

The psalmist continues to implore of the Lord, repeatedly, “Say to my soul, ‘I am your salvation’.”  You know how it is, that need that God would reassure you that he IS your salvation—because it feels as if he’s silent.

Imbibe these words from the psalm:

May those who seek your life be disgraced and put to shame...

May those who plot your ruin be turned back in dismay...

May they be like chaff before the wind, with the angel of God driving them away...

May their path be dark and slippery, with the angel of God driving them away...

And, again, you’ll relate with this...

And since they’ve hid a net for me without cause...

And since they’ve dug a pit for me without cause...

May ruin overtake them now suddenly...

May the net that they hid there entangle them...

May they fall in the pit that they dug for me...

THEN.

And then, my soul will rejoice in the Lord...

And then my soul will delight in God’s salvation...

THEN.

Then, my whole being will exclaim, “Who is like you, Lord?”

Oh Lord, who is like you??????

For our Lord is the God of justice.      And still, you wait.           Don’t defer your hope.

And all of this imprecation is biblical; it is godly, simply because you’re asking God to do it.

And as you pray these words of God over your enemies when you’re triggered, God allows for it, for such visceral emotion, for the spill over, for the boil over, for the spoil of lament, expressed in disgust.

It may not make you feel any better, but at least there’s a godly expression of anger for the hour or the day of its visitation.

Those who overpromise tend to underdeliver

Those who enter our lives with much spunk and panache often eventually leave a trail of devastation.  It’s a generalisation, I know, but it’s a trustworthy model for many types of relationships, from romances to work relationships to business partnerships to matters of spiritual direction involving power disequilibrium.

Think of it this way.  Not always, but so often we find that those who spark most curiosity and interest in us threaten to win us over at such a deep level that we commit far too much to these people far too early.

In other words, we don’t yet know who we’re truly dealing with.

It takes a while before the shine of ‘romance’ dulls in relationships generally.  Call it 12 months at a minimum before we sense that all isn’t as it seems.  Yes, I use the word romance, but this dynamic is evident a great deal more commonly than we realise.

The person who comes into our lives with charisma gives us a dopamine hit and we love being in their presence.  They’re funny, they make deep sense to us, we love being around them, because we connect with them!

It’s fine if they were just funny, or they were genuinely loving, but so many people trade out of their charisma, manipulating people and/or situations.  Much charm is manipulation.  They store up the favour they create and then they capitalise on it.  That’s okay if you know about it; if they’re transparent about it, and you’re okay with it.

But the fact is, much of the charisma that a magnetic person exudes seduces especially empathetic people, because they’re attractive personalities, and empaths are drawn to highly connective people.  The trouble is, empaths aren’t always aware of this dynamic, and some charismatic people take advantage of this favour.

This is in some ways a warning to us all for those only just entering our lives now, as well as those who have entrenched themselves; those who threaten or promise to be problematic.

This is also a reminder for all of us to thank those figures in all our lives who tend more to underpromise and overdeliver.  They don’t use the powerful influence of manipulation to draw upon what won’t ever be repaid, but they instead rely on being quiet achievers, expressing faith that their deeds will speak for them when their words might otherwise be hot air.

NOTE: none of the articles I write that represent the darker nuances of life are written from specific experience of particular persons.  In other words, if I know you, I’m not writing this about you.