what he wants

he needs me to write this.  To sit down and fill my teeth with grit; to grab hold of a knife and to slice.  To let it pour out, spilling over the keys as they form the words that condemn.  he needs me to hurt like he hurts; feel the wretched pain of a life interrupted by lies and deceit.  To be left wandering aimlessly, searching for answers to the ambiguous 'why' that haunts everyone from time to time.

he needs me to write this.  To break down the image that's crafted on the screen; to give the real rather than the polished.  To be more authentic, because, as I've been told, I'm not genuine enough.  Or, rather, at all.  he needs me to feel raw and exposed, turning out my soft underbelly for the world to see; so they can gawk and judge and turn their backs.

What he needs you to know is my sin.  The way I selfishly took to the keys and punched out a response to a message that, in essence, began rolling a pebble down a sh*t-covered mountain.  The way I chose to continue a conversation; to build a relationship; with a person who was most certainly standing on a clearly marked path of destruction.  he wants you to hear of my disrespectful, reprehensible sin.  The words and images exchanged across thousands of miles that sealed my fate as one of those people.  One of the women who sidestepped the path of a blessed life in exchange for a path hidden; overgrown with thorny vines of lies and knotty underbrush of deceit.  he wants you to acknowledge.  to point.  to condemn.  to label me for what I am.  liar.  adulterer.

he wants to make sure I'm seen be the world; by the culture in which we live, as among the lowest of low, the weak, the pathetic.  he wants you to see the crappy way in which I put my marriage and family and future and reputation in jeopardy for selfish motives.  he wants you to see me as inferior; self-centered, inadequate, less than.  he wants you to know that I'm disloyal, unworthy of trust.  he wants you to unfriend, dislodge, turn away.  he wants to discredit me.  he wants me to feel lonely.  hurt. suffer consequences.  he paints me with shame. guilt. disgust.  and he wants you to do so as well.  he wants to destroy.

he needs you to know the extent of what happened so you can realize I'm not who I portray myself to be.  he needs you to think of my faults and my faults alone; not recognizing the ongoing work that's going on inside of me.  he doesn't want you to acknowledge or believe there's been a transformation.  a shedding of ugliness, sinfulness.

he wants me to be scared.  to be terrified by my truth rather than own it.  to let it consume me like fire; turn me to ashes and watch me drift away; unnecessary and forgotten.

he wants you to think the worst of me.

and, often times, more often than I openly let it be known; he wins.  his thoughts and words and glares and taunting poke holes that I scramble to cover.  they bring self-loathing and tears and disappointment leaving me to stare back at a reflection that is appalling.  one that weakens my heart and leaves me questioning if I'll ever find true confidence and self-forgiveness.

the boomerang that brought me back from the ugliness of lies has firmly landed in a space of repentance, vulnerability, truth, repair.  but sometimes, many times, he whispers slyly in my ear; giving me pause as I assess my worthiness as a wife, mom, teacher, friend, Christian.

he wants me to think of my wickedness and selfishness.  to jump into a pit of shamefulness and evil because that's obviously where such destructive, malignant decision-making comes from.  a cell of nefarious wrongdoing that multiplied as snake-like tentacles of immorality craftily spread throughout my mind and soul.  in its wake, a vast, empty surface devoid of trustworthiness and shame, a shroud over any positive lens through which I am viewed.

oh, his wants are deep.  he struggles with seeing joy in my life; quickly snapping it up as an angry gator devouring its prey, turning it into a bloodied carcass of guilt and doubt, self-loathing and fear.  he makes me wonder what kind of person I am, makes me doubt my abilities; who am I to teach my children right and wrong, to lead a bible study, to show my face in church and openly praise and pray?

he lurks around dark corners; meets me in my flutters of sleep; smacks me dead in the face when I'm driving or cooking or watching tv or playing with my kids.  his tactics are fierce; snares set intentionally and methodically, little bombs of viciousness left to explode precisely at moments when I'll fall furthest and hardest into his pit.  he knows exactly what he is doing.

after all, he's been practicing his schemes, perfecting his manipulations, and implementing his campaign for centuries.  sometime after the creation of angels but before tempting Adam and Eve, his pride found him in the midst of a dilemma.  for the role of God was already fulfilled; yet he still desired the title for himself.  his refusal to serve God ultimately resulted in this 'fall'.  he found himself  'cast out'.

imagine his hatred.  how he must despise God and His people.  I picture an anger growing and growing; building and building to a point where he is satisfied by the complete destruction of what God has created.  I picture his temper stewing, bubbling over angrily at times; but also see his cunning and sly smirk, savagely picking off individuals by feasting on their weaknesses; highlighting their sins, and using them as weapons of mass destruction.  he crafts a world on earth where the human race begins to unravel itself; a skilled puppeteer, maniacally and adroitly maneuvering his marionettes as we all move along the planet, interacting with the toxicity in which he leaves lying around like banana peels, eagerly waiting for the slip so he can point and laugh and relish in his repugnant design.

but does he know?  does he know that even though it feels at times like he's winning; at times he can label me a cheater, a liar, a sham; that he's going to lose?  does he know that regardless of what he thinks; what he gets others to think; that I'm going to come out victorious?  I'm going to come out from under this mess as not just a person with a past, but a person with a purpose.  I'm going to find my worth and see my value and feel confidence that while, yes, my actions were sinful and broken and shocking, they actually can be forgivable?  They aren't meant to be forgettable, no, no; for the scars of sin serve as reminders of what strength we have gleaned from their sting.  The scars are proof to us that our battles are real, they're tough and strenuous, and can often times be a byproduct of someone else's poor choices.  But they show us our survival.  They prove we can be bold and brave and make a choice to change.  To make a fresh start on a path paved with hope and trust and faith.  The skin of a scar might seem tender; a soft spot of which to avoid.  But it's in those scars where we find strength of two pieces of us, knit back together with bonds of forgiveness, love, and grace.  True, they are and always will be our spots of extra-vulnerability.  The places we guard most fiercely because our memory burns with the fires of pain and hurt.  But in time, the pain of our hurts; the fires we've started in ourselves and in others, the result of his rule of this earth will be smothered.  The oxygen that feeds them; the culture in which we live, judgement of others, whispers of his voice, grasping tentacles of his wickedness; all will be eradicated.  The ashes of the fires that burned so fiercely will be proof that it happened; but the phoenix that arises from those ashes will leave everyone in awe and wonder.  he will exist no more, because HE reigns over heaven and earth.

and I'm sure he doesn't want me to write that.