If I picture that Jesus is standing between me and him, then every time he says something to put me down, I know Jesus is saying to me, “Are you giving him permission to do that to you?” And I am trying to say “No” but I can feel myself slipping all the same. And I need to really believe Jesus when he’s telling me, “If you won’t, then neither will I.” I have to want not to be torn up like rubbish and to believe also that Jesus doesn’t either. If my heart was a computer I would have this protection programmed into my hard drive!
I have hardly been able to talk to anyone since I was there, being shown the gritty, dirty ground where I get my face rubbed with his every comment and put down.
So I guess this is Jesus’s deal with me. I’d like to accept. I had said before-hand, “I take an oath with myself.” I’d said it out loud with my hand in the air like a stop sign! “I won’t let anything he says hurt me. I forbid the words to enter my personal space.” But they did. I had virtually scrambled into the car to get away, in the end. I don’t want Mum to know. She deserves never to know. So I have to try to act normal or like I’m laughing. On the way home I couldn’t talk or cry. My chest ached and it wasn’t angina! I went to sleep as an escape both nights since. ( A miracle for an insomniac!) But I woke still hounded by the rejection. Well, I don’t have any better deals to sign up to and I actually believe this one will be best in the long run. It takes such a big upfront payment though. Not to blame, not to imagine vengeful things I could have said…not to be natural.
So yes, Lord, please come and stand between him and me. I want to see you when I look at him and I want to hear you when he speaks. In return, I want him to see you when he looks at me and to hear you when I speak.
I will fail. Help me help me help me help me help me help me!