Sometimes, it’s just too late to repair the damage. Justin Timberlake doesn’t get enough credit for his sage wisdom.
Imagine you’re journeying on foot with a life-long friend from Waco to Minnesota. Yes, driving or flying would make more sense, but bear with the analogy. Also, believe it or not, you can take the same road, I-35, the whole way - complete with all its dysfunctional, perpetual construction. Personally, I don’t believe in Purgatory, but if it does exist, I PROMISE it’s on I-35.
Everything is going well until you reach Kansas City. For some reason, you and your fellow traveler have a falling out resulting in your paths deviating. You decide to continue on the pre-planned path; they decide to turn slightly - we’ll say 45°. Both continue on their respective paths. Eventually, you reach your destination and settle into a new life in Minnesota. Months later, you hear from your friend. They’ve arrived…in Chicago. They apologize. They realize they made a mistake and should have traveled with you. But things are going well for them now in Chicago and they want you to come live with them in this new home they’ve created.
While you realize that they’ve apologized, and you want to be gracious, you’re also furious.
“I’m in Minnesota now. This is where we said we were traveling together.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’m sorry and Chicago is a great place too”
The conversation falls apart. You hang up the phone, mad as hell, but you can’t explain why.
What am I Feeling?
Sometimes, it’s hard to put words to the feelings we have in this analogy. I’ve experienced this kind of betrayal and sense of loss before - probably all of us have. The first time I was aware of what I was feeling was when I left the White evangelical church on the heels of racialized spiritual abuse.
You said you believed in racial reconciliation - a picture of the body of Christ on earth as it is in Revelation. But you can’t get behind saying, “Black Lives Matter”?
There’s a myriad of reasons to be righteously indignant in this kind of situation, but what I think drives us mad is the realization that we were gaslit. Importantly, I’m not using gaslighting in it’s true, clinical meaning here. In this hypothetical, the friend didn’t deviate from the agreed-upon path to manipulate us (though sometimes it can be intentional!) In real time, they had an earnest belief that there was a better way to go. But now, with the benefit of hindsight, they have acknowledged: we were right.
We were right when we reminded them, this is the path we chose together.
We were right when we said this direction is correct.
We were right when we kept going.
And we traveled every one of the 436.6 miles to Kansas City to Minneapolis alone.
Every. Damn. Mile.
And every day, every experience had along the way, in isolation, was another level of the pain endured. And to make things worse, they don’t want to come to where we are. They expect us to move closer to them.
So, now, with their confession and the benefit of their hindsight, we realize that we are suffering the same kind of effect had by gaslighting.
Accordingly, there is nothing that the one that so effectively harmed us can say that will make us whole again. The Jedi hand wave ain’t gonna cut it. These wounds run deep.
A close family member experienced a similar kind of pain and took it to another level:
I’m not even in Minnesota. I’m still in Kansas City where the pain was inflicted. There’s things that have to be done here in Kansas City to bring healing to myself and others. So, I can’t even move from here, but those that hurt me are off in Chicago.
Perhaps you understand this feeling.
There’s a much longer conversation to be had here about what healing in these situations requires, what forgiveness is / is not, and what’s needed to repent and repair. A longer conversation to be had still about who can repair the damage in these situations and what it takes to be able to move forward. These conversations are for another day. I just want to help those who can relate to this feeling find vocabulary for it. I want to sit in lament and empathy. It’s not you. You haven’t gone mad. You were right all along, and you have the right to be angry about it.
That’s just how I feel about it. Tell me why I’m wrong. I’m not wrong; but tell me anyway.