Honoring...the Abuser?

For nearly 30 years my family has suffered:

• My mother - from an emotionally abusive and physically threatening husband, now "ex".
• My Siblings - from a warped, terrorizing dad

The suffering has taken its emotional toll on each family member. Individually we've dealt with the abuse in our own ways. But it's hurt.

After years of being pressed upon the soul becomes tired. Sighing is a familiar occurance each time dad leaves one of his very strange messages on the voice mail.

A few nights ago my wife and I got home from a pretty long day. It was around 9 p.m. when I stood out on the back porch watching my dogs lift their legs. I decided to check my voice mail. Sure enough, it was my dad. I won't repeat the vulgarities and vitriol he spewed forth into my mind through his familiar inflections and words. You'd think that after all these years it wouldn't matter.

But it did matter. Maybe because I was already spent for the day, I don't know. But I sighed. Leaning on the column next to me, I sighed to God. The moment was a weak one. My cry was tired, "God." My throat constricted; my eyes moist, "God, how do you want me to react to this?" I really felt the urge to call my dad and tell him to just stop the insanity. But deep down I knew that would be pointless.

So, I continued, "God, what would You tell me from Your word. Surely there is something You can remind me of."

Instantly came the words, "Honor your father..."

"But how?," I asked. "How do I honor someone that has continually hurt me?"

In my spirit I heard, 'Don't take revenge, leave room for God's wrath...vengeance is mine, I will repay', says the Lord."

That satisfied me. If I'm supposed to honor my dad...when I really feel like pushing back...and God has said to leave room for His divine wrath... Okay, I could deal with that!

Just then one more scriptural concept came to mind. I thought of Christ Jesus. It is said of Him that He fully drank the cup of His Father's wrath.

The implication for my situation was instantly clear. God had given me a new thing to consider. Grace. The same act of selfless sacrifice of my Savior paid my sin debt...and my dad's.

My dad confesses Jesus.

I confess Jesus.

Jesus took God's wrath for us both.

Now, I'm determined, each time I'm reminded of my dad's brokenness, I'm going to try to use it as an occasion to remember God's grace on us both.