I spent a great deal of my life believing that the smaller and smaller I made myself, the bigger God would be in my life and the more power He (sic) would have to do the good things He had planned. If I could just get out of the way… If I could resist my humanness… If I could be “alive to Him and dead to me,” as one of the songs we sang in my college church group reminded me. I stopped believing this when I felt I had become so small and lost so much of myself that I couldn’t bear it anymore.
I don’t know how to explain it otherwise, but I had a physically violent reaction to any more of myself disappearing. I yelled and snapped at people like a wounded animal; and when I reached out to members of my Bible study for help, I remember one woman suggesting that maybe demons were involved in some way. I’m not sure if she thought I was being possessed or attacked, but I remember feeling like she hadn’t heard me at all.
I didn’t understand… excuse me, couldn’t understand why the God I was always taught to believe in, the God who was in control of everything and the God who purposefully made things the way they were, would plan for all the suffering and loss I saw around me—for the loss I was experiencing. A man who is my ally and my spirit friend listened to me explain this feeling. He then looked up at me and asked, “You think that God is abusive, don’t you?” And I replied, “I guess I do.” Continue reading “In my defense against an abusive God… what I forget and what I am learning By Sara Frykenberg”