The Agony of Betrayal

I don't even know where to begin. This is so sudden, so searingly painful...

My previously satisfying breakfast now sits in a heavy, curdled, churning mass low in my stomach.

And how is it that something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could be the catalyst for such profound torment?

I was just trying to do something nice for a friend. You stumbled upon what seems to you a major transgression (when, in fact, my conscience is entirely clear), and you begin to attempt to systematically strip away all my supports, my loved ones, and my very livelihood?! What kind of Christian are you, anyway? What kind of God do you serve? I thank God that you are not my missionary.

But, on the other hand (for the one is filled with scathing indignation and rage), I know that you, too, have been deeply wounded, and never addressed it. I was once where you are, although not cemented in place as you seem to be. If it is not in your value system, it is wrong. Period. End of story. Moreover, it is your job to correct the error... no matter what. I am glad to be free from the crushing burden of playing God. You seem to thrive in it. And now I am in your sights.

You are supposed to be my friend, my comrade, someone I can count on to hold me up when I am weak. But instead you seek to tear me down?! Why? To teach me a lesson, so I'll conform to your worldview? I think not. Instead of loving me (what an idea!), you drive me away. If I were not determined to stay where God has placed me, you can believe I'd be so far gone. This is what drives people away from God. This is what wounds people to the point they never want to come back.

You have NO IDEA!!!!! (I can't use enough exclamation points!) And yet you come traipsing along, trying to force me into your mold, your conception of who I used to be. The perfect Bible Worker is now tarnished. What would you think if I told you that I'm eating turkey for Thanksgiving dinner? You'd probably take it to the conference.

I'm sorry. I don't want to be angry at you. I just feel so betrayed. I mean, can't we at least work this out between us before you take it to the whole church? Are you trying to drive me away? Because it sure seems like it. If you're trying to make me reform and conform, the only thing you're accomplishing is to make me want to swing far, far in the opposite direction. I want to dye my hair purple, pile on the leather and spikes, and show up at your house with a miniskirt and spike heels, a cigarette in my hand. Then you could abuse me with reasonable confidence.

"And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, 'Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain!'" {1 Chronicles 4:10}

Those are my thoughts as I think about meeting with you. I don't want to hurt you like you have hurt me. If somehow I can make you understand that this is an unacceptable way to deal with people... I know you have my best in mind (I think...)... Oh, Yah, give me a cool head and a warm heart.

I am not abandoned, either. You still love me, right? Yes, yes, You must... you've said so. Nothing can ever, ever keep you from loving me... even a pearl necklace at a dress-up tea party.

And I have my friends. My family here. My family in Athol. My friends in Montana. They're behind me. It's good to know that I'm not cut off. That would be unbearable... I might die... (and I'm not being melodramatic.)

One thing, at least, is confirmed... I can never truly be myself around you. Or your friends across the way.

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