Powerlessness, the inability to redirect the family heartache, stop the physical touch of the abuser, or silence the hollow screams inside the heart, is a reality that is endemic to all human-kind, but is faced by few. We are all helpless, but only those who have been radically deprived of the inherent freedom to choose and the legitimate desire to redirect that which is wrong will know how truly powerless we are in every endeavor that matters the most to us. Powerlessness is no gift, but the consequences of facing our helplessness, as victims of abuse and even more as sojourners in a world that is not our own, can open the door to new vistas of power and a radical taste of what it means to be free.
Dan Allender The Wounded Heart
Last week I experienced the suffocating pain of being trapped. The heaviness of another’s expectations felt like a load of rocks on my back. I put myself under enough pressure, so when another person puts pressure on, it feels like too much for me to bear.
The worst part of this pressure is feeling like I have no power to change it, like it is somehow my fault. Temporary relief comes in getting away from it and driving through the window of a fast food restaurant stuffing my face with salty fries. At least I can make the choice to bring myself pleasure through food, but afterwards my stomach says this was a mistake!
To feel weak brings great shame. When I lose my cool with another person because of the pressure that they are applying and then they tell me that I’m wrong to get upset, I feel like it’s all my fault. I feel powerless to change the other person. I feel powerless to change me. I feel trapped in a small cell of circumstances beyond my control.
I felt like this when I was a little girl and he asked me to come in his room to sleep under the electric blanket to stay warm. I felt powerless to say no. I feared what would happen if I did. So I chose to go with him and keep him happy, because he was my father and I didn’t have a choice. When the abuse happened, I determined it must be my fault, because I’d made the choice to sleep in the bed with him. I felt ashamed.
He told me the consequences of telling the truth would bring us both great harm. I felt the pressure of living a lie every single day. I felt ashamed and he was the only one who brought me relief. I was weak and vulnerable when I asked him for help. He was the pastor and should have known better, but still he chose to cross the line first. And I chose to follow him into the ditch . Once again I felt the shame of making the wrong choice. Once again I felt weak, powerless, and trapped. But this time I was an adult who could get out, yet felt powerless to until ten years in and suffocating under the pressure I could do it no more and finally spoke the truth.
Last week I had a few things to say to God on my way to work. Why was He allowing this pressure to come on me again? Why was I so uncertain, ashamed and blaming myself still for other people’s choices? Why do I still struggle to know that I am His child? Why am I not able to hear from Him? Why is it so very hard? Haven’t I been through enough? Still I get silence, and it made me angry and thoughts of just throwing in the towel on my beliefs briefly flashed through my mind.
But God has me trapped, too, because I know without Him I have no hope at all.
Finally, the prayers for wisdom are getting answered as I’ve ranted to my counselor, friends and my husband. In their kindness to just listen I’ve heard the words coming out of my own mouth and realized my frustrations go way past my current circumstances. They go all the way back to a little girl who still feels trapped.
God, why didn’t you rescue me? Why wasn’t there another way to save us other than allowing evil to roam the earth and do so much damage? Why am I unable to change without feeling so much pressure? Why can’t there be an easier way? Why must we count it all joy?
Looking in the distance to the hills that He created, I recognize these questions are too big for me to answer. But it still makes me angry, because feeling trapped seems like the most unfair place to be. Gripping the steering wheel my silent scream is heard by only Him.
And I realize that’s just what He wanted to hear. My anger is not rejected. He loves me just the same. He reassures me that I am His child. I can use my voice and choose what’s best for me and my family in these circumstances and He will be with me when I do. I am not powerless over my choices anymore.
I am free.
for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.