I Want to Throat Punch Some People!

It has been a hard week for me, emotionally. It isn't because of what is going on in my personal life. It is because of what is going on in our world. First, I was invited to host a book table at a Sex Trafficking Symposium at Saddleback Church in Orange County. We've had a few traffic survivors attend our Passionate Heart Ministry and I have worked with a few at the rescue mission and thought I had a good idea of what we would be hearing. However, a couple of the speakers brought video clips with the purpose of helping people see sex trafficking for what it truly is, convincing me it isn't something done by women voluntarily. Even though they take money from the John, the pimp takes the money from them.   

Just like victims of childhood sexual abuse, victims of trafficking have come to that scene with vulnerabilities that increased the likelihood they would be manipulated into “the life.” Some of them were vulnerable because they ran away to escape sexual abuse experienced at the hands of people who should have nurtured and protected them. Some became vulnerable because their parents kicked them out when they got addicted to drugs or alcohol. Some became vulnerable when their needs weren't met and they grew up without a sense of belonging to family. And a guy or gal from a gang, a bottom, or a pimp befriended and groomed them with the promise of being a part of their family. Sick as that sounds, it fulfills a deep need written on their hearts in the womb. I worked with one gal who was a single mom that met a couple at a PTA meeting. They befriended her when she was lonely. She began to frequent bars with them and then drinks were spiked and she was drugged and became addicted, pimped, and videotaped without her knowledge.   

It is scary to know some of the youngest girls were lured into “the life” by men and women pretending to be someone close to their ages on social media pages. They developed an online relationship and soon the kids thought they were in love with a fake person and ran away to be with them. Instead, they ended up in the hands of a pimp, only to be drugged, raped, and trafficked. Some videos we saw were posted by pimps proudly showing how abusively they treat the women they "own." The language, the physical violence, the drugs dispensed, the bragging-- it hurts the heart. I became angry because they seem to think they are tough, powerful, and ever so manly. But, they are the embodiment of pure evil.  

A lot of drug dealers found out they make more money selling humans. I won't write the words they use in that lifestyle, but they are ugly words. These women and girls, men and boys are stuck because they have no money, are addicted to the drugs provided, desperately want to belong, and fear for their lives if they run. Some women become "bottoms," which is the pimp’s right hand woman. Bottoms become horribly abusive to those under them. They recruit, train, and control through threats and abuse. They have to do this or be beaten worse than anyone. There is a status in that community that comes with top positions and what they will do to maintain a position sickens the heart. 

We are mistaken if we believe they can leave if they want. It is hard to get out of “the life”, because the conscience becomes seared when one is living only in that setting. To come out of “the life” and return to a more normal, moral setting shines a bright light on what they have done to survive and the shame that rises up within them is unbearable, causing some to commit suicide. Some of them don't have job or people skills and if they do, police records make it hard to get a job. It is becoming a generational business as they draw young guys and girls into it, some being their own children and some not. Children drawn in know no other life. I came home sad for the victims, but angry enough to throat punch some pimps. 

Then, on Monday, we heard about the bombing in Manchester that killed and injured young kids, parents, and young adults who were doing nothing but attending a concert. With the work I do, I know those not injured will suffer emotionally from the trauma of the event. They will never ever be the same. And these men think they are so powerful, so manly, and so spiritual because they believe they are earning special rewards for carrying out horrible deeds. What is manly about killing a child? It makes me sick to think back on all the terrorist attacks that have been reported. The terrorists who carried out the attack in southern California dropped their baby off at grandmother’s house and went and shot up his co-workers, and then shot it out with the police. And there is Boston, Florida, and all the European bombings...and it makes me want to throat punch some terrorists and those who recruit and train them.  

Then, this morning I read a response Leslie Vernick, a godly author and counselor, wrote to a pastor who had given bad advice to a woman who was in an abusive relationship. The woman’s marriage started out great and then over time her husband disengaged, withdrew to his basement, and become very angry. He started verbally assaulting her and the kids. Though it hadn't escalated to physical violence, his tongue was caustic and he had thrown both words and objects in anger. I've heard similar stories and in many cases the husband was battling an addition to pornography. The woman sought advice from her pastor who didn't point out the Biblical steps in handling his sin. Instead, he told her she should try harder to be a good support to him and that her emotional pain had at its root pride. That is spiritual abuse at its worst! No one in the church should be silenced when they are being mistreated and abused. It is time for churches to quit blaming victims and deal with the sin in the body.   

It reminded me of the number of women in our sexual abuse support groups. Some of them were abused by parents who were involved in the church or by youth pastors, pastors, or other leadership in the church. Those brave enough to speak out when they were young were often told not to say those kinds of things because dad could go to jail, the pastor's family could break up, or the reputation of the church could be ruined. It hurts my heart to think of the little girls too ashamed or too afraid to tell. But, it hurts my heart even more when they did tell and were silenced--literally sacrificed for the false reputation of the families and the church. It makes me want to throat punch some abusers, some pastors and some parents who would rather sacrifice kids than deal with sin in a Biblical way. 

I could go on and on with the things that make me want to throat punch today. I want to throat punch men and boys who think it is manly to objectify women and look them up and down as they walk down the street. I want to throat punch guys that think it is okay to grope women in the work place or in a public line. I want to throat punch men who think it manly to intimidate women and demand sex. I want to throat punch men who think it is okay to drug women and rape them. I want to throat punch judges who let them off scot free. I want to throat punch parents who neglect their responsibilities of loving, nurturing, teaching, and disciplining children, making them vulnerable to abuse, addictions, and trafficking. I want to throat punch people behind the abortion industry who make their money performing abortions on women they have deceived into believing abortion doesn't hurt the mom or the child, convincing them that the best way to handle sin is to perpetrate another against an unborn baby.  

As I have been processing these feelings, I came to realize there is an enemy bigger than the pimp, bigger than the John, bigger than the bottom, bigger than the terrorist, bigger than the misguided misogynistic pastor, bigger than the men caught in sexual addiction, and bigger than doctors performing abortions, and bigger than neglectful parents. All these people have been deceived by the Enemy who is seeking to devour and to destroy those created in God's image. Every one of these people doing such tremendous harm to others was formed in the womb by God's own hands just as their victims were. They have made choices to harm others partly because the enemy deceived them so they would be in the business of destroying other image bearers and in that process of believing and obeying the lies they themselves seem to have lost the ability to bear the image of God they were created to bear, that is unless God steps in and redeems. 

The Enemy is the one that has deceived men into thinking it is manly to pimp and create porn, to be aggressive and abusive, and to control wives and children through manipulation and intimidation. It is the enemy telling parents it is okay to ignore their family. It is the enemy telling girls it is okay to rectify one sin with another. It is the enemy telling them “the life” will fill the need of family. It is the enemy that causes people to become so entrenched that it seems normal to live a life of degradation and defilement. It is the enemy telling terrorists their salvation comes through murder. And it is the enemy telling us in our churches that these things don't have anything to do with us.  

We have got to remember truth. A man is never more manly than when he loves well, respects women, provides for his family, is in involved in his family, models godly morals, and bears the image of His Savior. He is never more manly than when he controls lustful appetites, wandering eyes, and his temper. He is never a more manly than when he teaches his sons to love and respect their mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and spouses. He is manly when he protects his daughters, loving them well, teaching them to let the Savior be enthralled with their beauty. They are manly when they guard their hearts both as a single and a married man, fighting with all of their might to preserve their purity and their marriages. 

And women--they are more beautiful when they get their love needs met by God and find a sense of purpose fulfilled as they engage with their kids, teaching them how to love God, themselves, and others. Women are never more beautiful than when they walk in truth and model a modest heart and empower their daughter to choose wisely who and when to date. And they are more beautiful when they have blown it when they own a mistake made, and recognize that grace and community can help them navigate the consequences of sin, allowing God to redeem even the sinful choices they made. 

And the church--it is never more godly than when it acknowledges the sin in the body and deals with it adequately. That means dealing graciously with unwanted pregnancies in a way that maintains the dignity of the mother and preserves the life of the baby while at the same time dealing with the root causes of the sin. That means being willing to deal with pornography, sexual addictions, and calling on men to openly take a stand against sex trafficking and porn use. It means being willing to deal with perpetrators of domestic violence, misogynistic attitudes, and teaching young men to appreciate God's plan for sex inside of a covenant marriage. It means loving well and teaching young people to be fulfilled in Christ so they don't look for love in sinful ways. 

I believe we all have the potential to be deceived and to sin to the point that God's image in us is no longer visible. That should terrify us. That should humble us. That should bother us enough to want to catch our tendency to sin in its earliest stages. It should bother us enough to drive us to the Word to see what God's plan for His people is. It should bother us enough to fall down and worship the one who can preserve His image in us. 

As I am contemplating how big God is, the desire to throat punch dissipates. I know the Enemy was defeated at the cross, his time is short, and he is angry and writhing like a snake dying. And I want to consistently worship God, remembering He is more powerful than he who is in this world. I pray against the Enemy's schemes and boldly proclaim God's truth to counter the Enemy's lies. I want to get out of my comfort zone and challenge the church to consider if we are doing all that God has called us to. Are we doing church God's way or hiding and perpetuating sin? Are we going where sinners live with the gospel, or hiding behind the comfort of the white washed walls? Are we willing to be around people with "rough edges" to share the gospel or are we reaching out only to those resembling us? Isn't it true that we can render the Enemy powerless by living as God has called us to live? Every prayer spoken, every act of worship, every demonstration of love, every testimony spoken aloud, every heart healed, every knee bowed in repentance, and every relationship healed through forgiveness, and every godly choice made are things that silence the Enemy and render Him powerless. Could it be that those are the spiritual throat punches God has called us to throw?     

When Mother's Day is Hard

Over the years I've come to realize holidays can be hard for people. I remember the sadness I felt on my first Mother's Day after moving across the country. I was used to spending it with Mom and was overwhelmed and lonely in a new place. I felt a sense of loss even though she was still alive. When I became a mom, my husband did his best to make it special, so I hid the sadness I experienced. It was years later that I faced the holiday with Mom truly gone. It hurt to realize I was no longer able to hear her voice, buy her a card, or send her flowers. I was a bit more prepared because I had some friends who had shared their grief with me on Mother's Day. They had lost their mothers early in life, some of so young they had to tell  teachers they didn't want to make a card because they didn't have a mom. They felt different and hated it. When Mother's Day rolls around, I still feel a sense of loss. But more importantly I feel burdened because of the painful stories others live. It is a good, God-given  burden that takes me to my knees.

I pray for those for whom this holiday stirs up longings for relationships with moms that can never be fulfilled. It doesn't matter if their moms have died, if their moms have abandoned them, if their moms are too dysfunctional to relate in healthy ways, or if their moms have betrayed them. That pain of longing they feel is a pain that runs deep. They may be longing to hear their voices speak words of affirmation that they know most likely will never be spoken because of sinful or wounded hearts. They may be longing to hear apologies for harsh words spoken in fit of rage, for loving so poorly, for failing to protect, or for leaving them. They may be longing for one more bear hug or for hugs never given. They may be longing for another conversation or longing for a conversation they never will have. They may be longing to hear their moms laugh one more time or the wondering what their laughs would have sounded like had depression not stolen them. They may be longing to hear their moms say they understand, but realizing their moms won't hear their words and respect their perspectives. They may be longing to having moms who would have protected them from perpetrators instead of choosing to protect family reputations, the church they attended, or the delusion that their families were healthy and happy. They might be longing for moms who were  stable enough to calm fears instead of triggering them.

I pray for those whose hearts feel empty on Mother's Day, because they can't remember a time that they didn't long for a child and live with the realization they will never conceive. Their hearts hurt every month, but even more on this day. They hurt not only for the unfulfilled longing, but because of the lack of empathy and the people who clamor for them to get over their grief or admonish them to trust God more. What do they do with the longing the Creator has written on their hearts?

I pray for the ladies who were able to conceive but lost children before they could breath their first breath. They grieve the loss of the baby they wanted but will never get to hold. They also grieve the loss of hopes and expectations they had for their children and themselves as parents. Many of them have suffered in silence because those around them didn't recognize the loss as valid and  those that did, are impatient with the grief they experience.

I pray for the moms whose memories include abortion. No matter what their reasons were, they were deceived into believing it would be easier. Yet, every year they remember and feel their losses shrouded with shame. They find themselves wondering about the child whose life ended because of the choices they made. I am thankful for those who have experienced God's grace and have been able to grieve and repent. But, I pray for those who haven't repented, always hoping they will do so, so that they can grieve their child and confess the decision they made as they cling to the assurance of a heavenly reunion.

I pray for the moms who were fortunate enough to birth children and enjoy them for a season only to lose them way too soon. They have walked a grieving journey many of us will never walk. When this day rolls around, their hearts are both heavy and thankful as they remember past Mother's Days filled with cheer and hand made cards expressing sweet childish sentiments. Even those with other children, are reminded who are celebrated can not help but see the empty chair of the missing sibling.
I pray for the moms who have children who are incarcerated or who have run away. The shame of wondering where they went wrong is sometimes too much to bear. The worry that comes from wondering if children are alive, safe, cold and hungry, or in harm's way is constant. As they grieve the choices made by their children, they grieve the holes left in their family and the dashed hopes they had for their kids.

I also pray for the moms and the children who lost their relationship through suicide. That death is a hard one to grieve because of all the unasked and unanswered questions. "Was it my fault?" "Could I have prevented it?" "Why did they want to die?" "Why did they prefer death over life?"

My purpose in sharing this post is not to guilt those who celebrate this holiday as it's a relationship that deserves to be recognized, honored, and celebrated! I just want to remind us that it is not always easy for others. I hope we can be empathetic and gracious as we cross paths with those whose experience is not one of joy. This might mean writing a note to a friend struggling with infertility. It might mean planting a rose bush with someone who's lost a child or a mom. It might mean having coffee with a friend and allowing her to talk about her loss without admonishing her to move on. It might mean doing something creative with a friend who has suffered a loss and wants to bless another. It might mean having lunch with someone spending their first Mother's Day alone, reminding them through your presence that you remember their loss. It might mean being willing to listen to a process letter written to a mother who was absent, distracted, or unloving and then helping them figure out ways to release the pain they feel and forgive at a deeper level. The possibilities are endless, for when Mother's Day is hard, it offers us so many opportunities to love those who hurt.

Mommy has a Potty Mouth

When my children were small, they were outside with my husband who was working in the garden. After setting the food I had prepared on the table, I opened the door and hollered to let them know lunch was ready. I then turned around and grabbed the pitcher of ice tea and set it on the table, somehow setting it on the edge of the table. It was like a slow-motion video. I saw it go over and as it hit the floor the pitcher shattered and ice tea spattered up the wall and all over the newly mopped floor. "Oh crap!" slipped from my mouth just as my young sons got to the screen door. One of them quickly turned to their daddy and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Daddy, Mommy just cussed!" Technically I didn't believe I used curse words--slang yes, and maybe even a bit vulgar. When I said that to my husband, he laughed and pointed out two possible reasons the kids thought I cussed. First, it wasn't a word we allowed them to use. So, they assumed I was cussing if I used a forbidden word. Second, the emotional and impulsive way I spoke the word made it feel like a curse word to the kids.

Ironically, I had grown up in a family where some of grownups cursed when they got angry and some simply cursed in social settings as they told stories. When I became a believer, I tried really hard not to curse. And, as a teen, I even became a somewhat obnoxious, self-appointed chief of the speech police force for my family of origin.  

In college, I had a Christian English major as a roommate who was both intelligent and quick witted. I asked her one time if she ever cursed because I had never heard her do so. She said she didn't curse since she believed most people cursed because they had a limited vocabulary. And believe me, she could express herself and her emotions quite well without ever using curse words. She was amazing and could  verbalize something deep and significant in a humorous way that made me smile, only to realize later how important her words were. I also had another dear friend who, in the eight years I was around her, never once cursed in front of me. I didn't realize it until one day we were in the middle of doing something and something happened that would have made cursing a real temptation for anyone, but all she said was, "Oh, my soul!" And it didn't even sound like a curse word, just a calm acceptance of a problem we would have to work through to proceed. I loved that one chose to educate herself with a vocabulary to give herself the ability to fully communicate the emotions that were aroused in difficult situations, and the other communicated a humble acceptance of circumstances that were less than favorable, frustrating, or infuriating to us humans. For the most part, I tried to emulate the speech of these ladies and many other godly women I knew.   

A few years ago, I decided to work through past trauma and in that work I found a host of emotions including rage with in me that I didn't know existed. And along with those emotions, curse words I had heard early on, but never thought I would say again, rose to the surface. For a couple of years those words showed up a lot in my journal, which was written in the format of letters to God. I was a bit uncomfortable doing that, until one day I watched my young grandson ask his mom to give him back an object she had taken away from him. Because He was around 18 months old, he had a limited vocabulary and he kept reaching out with his hands indicating he wanted it. She shook her head no and then he began to throw a little fit without any tears. She told him no again and then he began to cry great big crocodile tears. When she still said no, he began to desperately point to the tears as if they could indicate to her how much he wanted the object she had taken from him. In seeing him, I realized that because I had a hard time getting to my tears, I had been using curse words to try to convey to God how angry and how hurt I was.  

Then, one day I was discussing something painful with my counselor. She asked me if I had journaled about it. I told her that I had tried to journal several times, but I couldn't find words to express the depths of hurt and anger I was experiencing and had just cried an ugly cry--the cry where shoulders shake, and groans surface, and snot runs as fast as the tears. I told her that in my mind all I could do was picture myself standing on a tall mountain, screaming in anguish, wanting to be sure God could hear and see me and know the pain I felt. She took me to another counselor's office and showed me a beautiful picture of a lady sitting on a garden bench crying and catching her tears in a vile. The artist had painted it to depict Psalm 56:8, "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?" To know that God saw my tears and cares was a soothing balm to my pained soul.  

I had gone from living numb, to getting angry about the ugly, hurtful things I had experienced, to acknowledging the deep pain and the grief caused by what had occurred and, believe me, that grief ran deep. During that time of facing the past wounds and laying them at the cross, Romans 8:26 took on new meaning to me, "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." When I couldn't find the words to express the anguish I experienced the Spirit could intercede for me. How awesome is that?

I hope that every person who faces deep pain, loss, and confusion finds the beauty of the truth of these verses for themselves. God hears the pain and the anger we experience and express through words. And, when there are not words strong enough to express the deep pain in our hearts, He sees the tears and hears the silent groans of our hearts and the Spirit's prayers being poured out on our behalf. 

Sometimes we want to play down our emotions, but I believe God is every bit as concerned about our hearts and the emotions we experience as He is about the thoughts we think and the words we speak. The cries of the cross are proof of that. I believe our God is big enough to handle the emotions we feel and loving enough to help us manage them with His truth. Maybe that is why Paul wrote, "That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death." 

I am at a different place in my life and still striving to use godly speech, trusting that if I can't find a word powerful enough to convey my fear, sorrow, grief, or anger, that I can trust that God sees how deep those things can run in me. And, at the times I feel alone and desperate to be heard, I can still draw on that mountaintop dream in which I cry out to Him with my heart and let the Spirit intercede for me. He knows my heart and He knows what I need even more than I do. I don't want my grandkids to think of me as a potty-mouthed grandma, I want them to remember me as a "Jam" who spoke words that blessed and drew their hearts toward the heart of God.