Yesterday I felt an emotion that I haven’t felt in a while: rage.
I’ve felt angry – often – but the rage that came yesterday was uncontrollable. I was shaking, crying, and felt like I could explode or hit someone. It’s a good thing that it was just Ken and me here.
We were taught by our abuser that we have no right to justice and especially no right to seek justice. Of course that’s utter bollocks and there is no biblical foundation for that teaching – but it has kept said abuser nice and safe for years.
I have (mostly) come to terms with the injustice done to us. It happened, it sucks, and currently, nothing is being done about it. In fact, our abuser is celebrated and elevated to places where he can freely abuse even more people. Evidence that this is happening is ignored. We have left that system of abuse and control, and trust that God will sort out the mess.
So no – I wasn’t in a rage about that. My rage came when I heard the stories of others yesterday. I’m both comforted that we are not the only ones this has happened to, and outraged. In a way I wish we WERE the only ones. This is widespread, disgusting, and MUST be stopped. Justice will be served in these situations.
One had been abused, his leaders affirmed that it was spiritual abuse, and yet those leaders allowed the abuse to go on and allowed the abuser’s judgments against this man stand unchallenged. A new friend and I held another friend as she wept, broken, questioning herself and her very sense of reality. More stories of being built up and the rug pulled out. Devaluing. Discarding. Dismissing. Gaslighting. Manipulation. Brainwashing. Story after story. Heart after heart. Broken. Shattered. Devastated.
These things should not be. And so I rage inside. My rage has become a furious intercession.
And I content myself in this: “Alexander the coppersmith did me much harm; the Lord will repay him according to his deeds.” (2 Timothy 4:14)