We don’t get to see each other often, but when we do, we make it count. There’s usually a handful of things said between “safe friends” that are utterly ridiculous. By ridiculous, I mean hilarious. Then the conversation always shifts to God and the pursuit of Him with every fiber of who we are. In our forties, we can be rooted deeply in our faith and utterly ridiculous. We are 100% okay with that because we’ve fought dang hard to like who we’ve become.
I become quiet and listen to her. That’s what we do best, we listen to the words that haven’t been spoken yet. And, sometimes I say the brave words for her and she says mine.
I found myself fangirling my friend who has been a woman underneath a controlling thumb for most of her life. The men she loved most required her to be small and less. Heaven forbid if somewhere in the space of manipulative abuse she actually figured out that she was destined for more- she is worth all the kind words any good-hearted man can find and all the ones he can’t.
When I told her she was the proud owner of her story and she could tell it any way she wanted, she shook her head and said, “I made a vow to honor him in public. I fear God and know I will be accountable for every word.”
I, on the other hand, wanted to hunt him down and pummel him multiple times as I watched my friend lay to rest the death of her abusive marriage and learn to stand taller than her five-foot-three frame allows.
What kind of woman honors an unhonorable man? A godly woman who wrestled in the dark alone and found out on her own that she is anything but small and unworthy. Whether it’s words or angry hands, calling abuse what it really is… is scary. Because manipulation points to the abused and tells us it was our fault, that somehow, we deserved it. BUT NOT ANYMORE. No one holds us verbally underneath a heavy hand of reckless words without our permission.
Women who pursue Jesus and healing are bound to figure out their worth, eventually. And she did, and she is free. But even still I watch this strong woman in ministry, an incredible mother and friend, take a backseat in the car she’s supposed to be driving. Let me just brag about her, she is in the driver’s seat ninety percent of the time now, but I’m gutsy enough to push for that last ten for her. I’m gutsy enough to push for the last ten for all of us.
I call out this behavior in both of us over a casual meal because even as women who have been set free, we apologize politely and dismiss the destiny that is rightfully ours.
“But why do we still do this?” I asked.
“As good little, firstborn broken girls we have even given God an out to His promises. It’s time for us to not to that.”
My strong reply hung in the air, even taking me by surprise.
God doesn’t need an out. He needs us to believe Him. Did Jacob apologize for wrestling in the dark for his blessing and duking it out with an angel? Refusing to let go his death grip overpowered the angel. (Gen 32:22-32) Do I think that angel could have whipped him, I truly do. But, I think a gutsy desperation for blessing deserves a reward and on the other side of that, a blessing like that requires an exhausting wrestling match that leads to a breakthrough.
We stop short because wrestling is hard; we say pretty please then let go right before our miracle happens. Most of the time we are looking for something to hold in our hands, visible proof of an answered prayer and the things we long for. My friend is the miracle she’s prayed for. Who she has become is the greatest legacy that will live on through the many lives she has touched, but most importantly, to the four young adults who call her Mom.
Sometimes I blame Southern hospitality for teaching us to “be sweet” when we want to tell people (who don’t really care at all) what we really think. But, I wouldn’t trade this freedom that I walk in for all the sweet tea and hugs-around-the-necks in the world. Nice is good. Nice with a backbone is better.
We are all taking the backseat when it comes to living our lives and owning our story, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It’s one thing when we allow Jesus to take the lead, but it’s another when we forfeit our keys because someone wants to control us. Jesus isn’t like that. He laid down his life for us and wants an invitation in with a seat right next to us. He wants all of us. The wet tears at his feet, the hot-mess and costly (or cheap perfume) we pour over him as a gift.
Wrestle for that ten percent, or whatever your percentage is. The wrestle is worth the end result of freedom and blessing. Don’t settle for almost whole.
Happy Galentine’s Day to my favorite gals!
Much love,
Jennifer Renee
*Excerpt from my book Freedom!: The Gutsy Pursuit of Breakthrough and the Life Beyond It https://amzn.to/2PiJF8N