Don't Ever Dare A Dancing Bear To Teach You How To Waltz...

Don't ever cross a crocodile
However few his faults.
Don't ever dare
A dancing bear
To teach you how to waltz.
-Kaye Starbird-

I was quite sleepy Friday night and was in the process of shutting down my laptop when Commandments of Men latest blog title caught my eye: "Buckle Up For These Links..."
Of course I had to jump over and find out what I needed to buckle up for- the last couple of posts Lewis wrote necessitated that he outfit his e-mail with Kevlar. Brave man, that (cheering for you Lewis!)

I wasn't the least bit sleepy after reading the post he linked. I was sitting with my head between my knees trying not to be physically sick.

I won't list the details in this post. Roll over the link for Commandments of Men
to read the details.

A brief synopsis of the link to understand the rest of my post:
A young lady is beaten by her husband in a practice known as "Domestic Discipline".
Until reading her post I had never heard of such a thing. (I had heard of S&M but domestic discipline mirrors that in no form apparently because the beating has no sexual connotation).

After the physical sickness passed, I saw red, red, RED anger. I wanted to go rescue this girl, to turn her husband into the authorities. Many people had commented on her blog begging her to seek help, seek counseling for her marriage. She replied to these people asking them to stop being so judgemental. She protested she was not abused-that it was consensual. Apparently there are other supporters of this lifestyle and the comments swarmed protesting that anyone who saw this way of life as dangerous were "closed-minded", "Bible-thumpers", and "nosing in other's perfectly normal, happy marriage". (That was a chuckle. Obviously they didn't read Lewis' blog)

And then my anger burned against this girl. I wanted to scream at her: Listen! For God's sake! You weren't created in God's image for this! How could you let another human being debase you like this?

Off I stormed to bed only to dream of women being thrown around, slammed against walls.

When I woke the next morning I knew something was afoot. Usually when I hear of human suffering I weep. I pray. I open the rusty doorway between God and I and edge a few feet closer to Him to tell Him all about it. Ask Him to be merciful. Tell Him that I am working on not being so angry at Him. Then pull the rusty door shut for a few more days until I hear of another tragedy. Or have to make a left-hand turn in on-coming traffic. (a whole other post I assure you).

I wasn't praying this time 'round. I was furious. Then I understood.

In the young lady's reply comment she asked people to stop judging her and her lifestyle choice. I asked myself: Am I judging?

Yes. I am. But it isn't her. I'm judging me.

The post was shades and shadows of me. I didn't have an abusive spouse-Thank God.
I had an abusive pastor. And yes, she beat me once, in front of my parents for a supposed wrong-doing. According to the supporters of this discipline lifestyle it should have made me feel cleansed. It didn't. I was so ashamed I couldn't hold my head up. My story here.

I realized I am still angry at myself for not standing up to the abusive pastor. I should have walked out of that room and called nine-one-one on her. Put an end to her reign of terror.

Now that I have separated who I am actually angry at I feel only compassion and concern for this beaten young lady. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her it's OK. God loves her. Nothing that she could ever do warrants treatment like that. Because Somebody already took her beating. He paid it all.

Though the door between He and I is rusty- though I'm still clutching my anger, I am going to go through the creaking door and ask Him to watch over the young lady. To help her see.

I am going work on forgiving me. I didn't call nine-one-one on that witch of a pastor but I do speak out against her abuse on this blog. Perhaps while I am walking through the rusty door I will whisper a prayer for her immortal soul.

I heartily suggest reading Leslie Morgan Steiner's story, Crazy Love.She begins her story saying:

If you and I met at one of our children's birthday parties, in the hallway at work, or at a neighbor's barbecue, you'd never guess my secret: that as a young woman I fell in love with and married a man who beat me regularly and nearly killed me.

If I could speak to this beaten, blogging girl face to face I would tell her not to ever cross a crocodile however few his faults. And don't ever dare a dancing bear to teach her how to waltz.

Putting a human being, any human being, in God's place to judge, to beat us into holiness allots them power they aren't capable of wielding. They become a dancing bear who won't just teach you how to waltz. They will devour you whole.

Leslie Morgan Steiner

bear and girl dancing photo link in photobucket