This weekend I was at Minnesota Tres Dias #20. It was a blessed weekend in so many ways. Spending time with other Christians, especially Christian women, is affirming. Somehow the loving connections we make endorse the way the Father loves us.
During the weekend, one of the speakers approached me.
"Did you know you're about to be under spiritual warfare? Has anyone warned you?"
"No?" I answered with that tentative query in my voice that means, "What the hell are you talking about, strange lady?"
She shared a warning from the Holy Spirit. I've had these warnings before, and they always freak me out a little bit. Probably especially because they've proven true.
I'm glad she warned me. After two nights of little sleep and days full of efforts to care for the weekend's attendees, I was exhausted. When I crawled in bed, I decided to catch up on email. It's midnight on Saturday night at this point. Mixed in the eighty-six new emails was one from my former friend; I call her CC.
Spiritual warfare, indeed.
The email was a vile attack on my integrity and mental health. It was a bitter diatribe, full of the hatefulness of someone I believed was part of my past. Along with her claims of perfect happiness in the person who "completes her," she describes me as a person I certainly don't recognize.
This is not the first time CC has attacked me. She did it once before, a long time before Joe was interested in her. I was crying when I brought him that email, and asked him if her portrayal of me was accurate. In one of the rare moments when Joe actually was able to provide emotional support, he hugged me after reading the email. "That's not you, Kari!" he said several times while I cried. I would guess his opinion has largely changed, more because of how she presents me than anything I ever did to either of them.
I lay there that night for four hours, four hours I can never regain. I thought hard about how to respond. I revisited the old me, the me who thought I could fix everything myself and who believed there is justice for the righteous. Then the new me stepped up to the plate! Physically and emotionally exhausted, I finally (FINALLY!) turned to God and laid it at His feet. "I can't figure this out, Lord. Help me!" were the last thoughts I had before I fell asleep.
A couple hours later I woke with the certain conviction that I would do nothing. Nothing. I wasn't going to respond. I wasn't going to contact the other people to whom she spewed her poison. I wasn't going to revisit the past or defend myself. In fact, I couldn't defend myself. Just like in my past experiences with CC, defending myself means breaking the confidences of others, and I won't do that.
Over the years since our friendship ended, I have heard from people who are angry at and hurt by CC. She's destroyed much that people found precious, and my marriage is not the least of those things. I have given the exact same genuine counsel every single time: "Forgive her. She's a hurting and broken person deserving of compassion. Free yourself!"
Those are words I take to heart.
I forgive you, CC. You are hurting and broken. You deserve my compassion and the love Jesus calls us to give even to those who willfully hurt us.
My forgiveness is heartfelt. But my desire to be free of her anger, hatred, and manipulation is also heartfelt. What does one have to do, I wonder, to be free of someone who is that bitterly angry? The only conclusion I can draw, the only thing that might free me of her is my own failure.
And failure, my friends, is not an option!
Peace,
Kari
During the weekend, one of the speakers approached me.
"Did you know you're about to be under spiritual warfare? Has anyone warned you?"
"No?" I answered with that tentative query in my voice that means, "What the hell are you talking about, strange lady?"
She shared a warning from the Holy Spirit. I've had these warnings before, and they always freak me out a little bit. Probably especially because they've proven true.
I'm glad she warned me. After two nights of little sleep and days full of efforts to care for the weekend's attendees, I was exhausted. When I crawled in bed, I decided to catch up on email. It's midnight on Saturday night at this point. Mixed in the eighty-six new emails was one from my former friend; I call her CC.
Spiritual warfare, indeed.
The email was a vile attack on my integrity and mental health. It was a bitter diatribe, full of the hatefulness of someone I believed was part of my past. Along with her claims of perfect happiness in the person who "completes her," she describes me as a person I certainly don't recognize.
This is not the first time CC has attacked me. She did it once before, a long time before Joe was interested in her. I was crying when I brought him that email, and asked him if her portrayal of me was accurate. In one of the rare moments when Joe actually was able to provide emotional support, he hugged me after reading the email. "That's not you, Kari!" he said several times while I cried. I would guess his opinion has largely changed, more because of how she presents me than anything I ever did to either of them.
I lay there that night for four hours, four hours I can never regain. I thought hard about how to respond. I revisited the old me, the me who thought I could fix everything myself and who believed there is justice for the righteous. Then the new me stepped up to the plate! Physically and emotionally exhausted, I finally (FINALLY!) turned to God and laid it at His feet. "I can't figure this out, Lord. Help me!" were the last thoughts I had before I fell asleep.
A couple hours later I woke with the certain conviction that I would do nothing. Nothing. I wasn't going to respond. I wasn't going to contact the other people to whom she spewed her poison. I wasn't going to revisit the past or defend myself. In fact, I couldn't defend myself. Just like in my past experiences with CC, defending myself means breaking the confidences of others, and I won't do that.
Over the years since our friendship ended, I have heard from people who are angry at and hurt by CC. She's destroyed much that people found precious, and my marriage is not the least of those things. I have given the exact same genuine counsel every single time: "Forgive her. She's a hurting and broken person deserving of compassion. Free yourself!"
Those are words I take to heart.
I forgive you, CC. You are hurting and broken. You deserve my compassion and the love Jesus calls us to give even to those who willfully hurt us.
My forgiveness is heartfelt. But my desire to be free of her anger, hatred, and manipulation is also heartfelt. What does one have to do, I wonder, to be free of someone who is that bitterly angry? The only conclusion I can draw, the only thing that might free me of her is my own failure.
And failure, my friends, is not an option!
Peace,
Kari
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