I can’t remember exactly how old I was when my Sunday school teacher and I stayed after class to talk, but I’m guessing Junior High based on how much I cried at the time.

I don’t remember the entire conversation, but I have never forgotten what she emphasized to me that day with tears streaming down her face.

“Never pray and ask God to remove the softness you feel. Don’t ask God to make you less sensitive.”

It won’t be a big surprise to some that I’m soft-hearted and cry easily. But, at that age, I cried about all the things and most of it was not worth crying over. I know that now, but that wasn’t what she was talking about.

A million times in my life I was told to toughen up. Develop a thicker skin. Softness was weakness and crying wouldn’t fix anything. Stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. Use your words, not tears, and have a better argument ready.

I cried when things moved me — a song, memory, or the pain that I recognized in the faces of others and wanted to help ease somehow. I cried for the hurt that didn’t even belong to me, and sometimes I hated that because I have never cried pretty. I usually have red splotchy rings around my eyes. It’s hard to fake that kind of evidence of sensitivity, so I spent a lot of time in the bathroom hiding.

In my mind, there was no way that Mrs. Bailey could be anything other than soft-hearted. But as we talked, she said something about softness leaving and bitterness taking its place. She wanted to spare me from bitterness by giving me permission to feel everything unapologetically.

My sensitivity was a gift, not a weakness, and one that I would have to guard. Looking back, if she would have said those things without tears, I wouldn’t remember it as I do now. It was impactful because she had all the big feelings I did, I just didn’t know what to do with them. Later I would recognize my big feelings were intertwined and connected to my calling.

But it hurt to feel everything.

It hurt to see the pain and not be able to fix it.

It cut deeply, and it was sometimes embarrassing when it spilled out like salty question marks.

As someone who has experienced abuse in the smallest sense of the word- both verbal and physical. I will tell you words are worse than hitting ever was. Marks fade, but those word-wounds play on repeat at the most inopportune times.

I was thirty-eight the last time I let someone verbally abuse me. Thirty-eight. I have what I lovingly refer to as “steam-rollers” in my life, I love them dearly, but they flatten the nice out of me sometimes. They have big personalities and brutal honesty, but they cannot handle it when someone steamrolls them right back. Brutal honesty, who knew, is only one-sided.

I had removed my victim label long before my late thirties. But still had enough Southern girl niceness that gave others room to be fully themselves, even if it was hurtful at times. I was good at holding my tongue. And as proud as I was of that, it also meant I allowed certain behaviors that were super unhealthy and neglectful. It was easier to make myself smaller and just get over it to keep the peace … but that’s when I met bitterness.

If someone says, “I am about to speak the truth in love,” gird your loins. Protect all your soft parts because I can assure you it’s not even close to loving. Most of the time, the line is blurry between what Jesus actually said versus personal opinions and politics.

The overused catchphrase that I hear today is really an excuse dressed up in scripture but taken completely out of context.

“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” (Eph 4:15 NIV)

If you are going to be rude, just be rude. But don’t use scripture incorrectly to drive home your point of view. If you only highlight verse 15, you will miss the core of that message that speaks of unity and maturity in the body of Christ. Ephesians chapter 4 speaks about many things that I need to work on. But we camp out there because if we looked at contextually, we can’t use it as an excuse anymore to be ugly.

So many core truths, I’ll just share a few:

I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.

There is so much sustenance worth reading, reflecting on, and repenting over in Ephesians 4. That’s where I’m at. Lots of repenting and reflecting.

I find myself miffed by the rhetoric and phraseology floating around because the tone and undertones sound so abusive and demeaning. And maybe you don’t know what you are doing or perhaps you do, but it comes across as abrasive, angry, and worst of all — judgemental.

I get it. Yes, Jesus got mad, too, and flipped tables, but some of y’all just sound flipping crazy.

As a recovering people-pleaser and a good church-going girl, I have watched with an aching heart. Maybe you have zero background or history with abuse, and for that, I’m so thankful that you haven’t. But people are hurting, broken, and looking for refuge and a safe place to land. If the church isn’t that place, we are doing it wrong.

If it sounds like abuse from the pulpit or anywhere else, she’s going to leave that, too. She just left an abusive relationship and it took all the strength she didn’t even know she had to run. Please be worth running to. God is always a safe place for the woman who ran. Hagar, the woman at the well, the one with the alabaster jar and tears at the feet of Jesus. His harshest rebukes were always for the religious ones who didn’t get it. They completely missed the heartbeat of Christ.

We need prayer for many things in our world, but let’s start with repentance and reframe what we are doing now (that is clearly not working) by looking to scripture and not conspiracy theories.

We are all triggered right now, but I’m also disappointed by the hatefulness of people who know better.

You might be right, but you don’t have to be mean.

It’s possible to disagree about politics without telling someone that they are going straight to hell if they voted differently than you. Again, people with a background of abuse pick up on language and behavior that is toxic and respond to it differently. This used to be okay. Can we get back to that?

It’s possible to not have a victim mentality and still place boundaries around what makes you uncomfortable because you’re healthy now and want to stay that way.

Some people are no longer broken, they’re just trying to move on. So be nice and let them without attaching blame or shame to it. That ain’t from Jesus.

You can speak the truth until you are red in the face, but until you are willing to see a different side … you will only be talking to people just like you. That’s bound to get boring real quick.

You can speak the truth, but it might not be well-received if it’s unloving and has a bite. That’s on you, though. But it’s okay to try again and say you’re sorry without adding a but to it.

Maybe it’s time to hit our knees and ask God to show us what loving His way really looks like and then do it. Because all of this just feels off and doesn’t reflect His heart at all. And I know that none of us want to miss out on being the answer to someone’s prayers because the enemy has distracted and divided us. I’m ready to listen and be the solution but I can’t do this without you.

So much love to you,

Jennifer Renee