Losing My Life

"You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped; You were too strong for me, and You triumphed. All the day, I am an object of laughter; everyone mocks me.
Whenever I speak, I must cry out, violence and outrage is my message; the Word of the Lord has brought me derision and reproach all the day.
I say to myself, I will not mention Him, I will speak His name no more. But then, it becomes like a fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it." -[Jeremiah 20: 7-9].


According to the Commentary in the Life Application Study Bible, NIV, "By [earthly] standards, Jeremiah was a miserable failure. For 40 years, he served as God's spokesman to Judah; but when Jeremiah spoke, nobody listened. And he certainly did not attain material success. He was poor and underwent severe deprivation to deliver his prophecies. He was thrown into prison and into a cistern, and he was taken to Egypt against his will. He was rejected by his neighbors, his family, the false priests and prophets, friends, his audience and the kings. . . But, in God's eyes, Jeremiah was one of the most successful people in all of history."

All the day, growing up, I myself was an object of laughter. My family was very comfortable financially. I would ask if we could give to charity? My parents and my sibling would mock me, chortling, "We don't GIVE our money away."

We called ourselves Christian, but my mother would pronounce that she worshipped "The Almighty Dollar." I did not dare to speak God's name out loud. I was asking as a teen could we go to church, but my mother would tell me, "We don't believe in that".  And so, if I wanted to correct their blasphemy, I would whisper to myself, "You mean 'Almighty God."

My sibling called me ugly every day, in great detail -- faulting me for my complexion, my teeth, my eyesight. My mother would say, "You are too sensitive." So, I concluded that what my sibling was saying must be true, but the problem was that I was too sensitive about these reproaches.

When my parents did not stop the verbal abuse, my sibling took to rounding up the children in the neighborhood to mock me. They ringed me, chanting what my sibling directed them to deride me with. I would run inside and hide in my room. I was too gentle to confront them, too frightened to stand my ground.

When my parents did not stop the neighborhood bullies, my sibling became even more emboldened. I was going to school with black eyes. My parents mocked me, "Little Miss Black-Eyed Susan."

No one cared to put me down for the naps I needed, so I took naps when I decided I needed them. I was five.

Increasingly, even at five, I was not fed. I became extremely thin. I would hang around the neighbors' yards, hoping they would give me a small meal, perhaps a glass of milk and a piece of bread with butter.

My mother told me that it was my own fault that the kids and my sibling were bullying me, because I reacted with emotion. By age eight, I had numbed my feelings. By age ten, I had stopped speaking.

When I became a teen, more capable around the house, I either hid in my room, tried to contribute to the peace by doing chores, or I left the house for hours.

I was modeling Christian behavior -- responding with gentleness, retreating, or even walking away.

When I was 14, my parents stopped taking me to church altogether. The treatment for my chronic lung disease ceased as well.

I developed scars on my lungs as a result. I live with this daily.

I also took my Faith underground. When I met my Christian husband, I asked him for a gold cross necklace. But in front of my parents, I wore it under my shirt collar.

When I went home to tell my family that I was marrying this Catholic man, my mother hissed, "We did NOT raise you this way! WHY are you doing this to us?"  My parents refused to stand in the receiving line at my wedding. My husband and I were shut out of family events.

As we read Jeremiah, we could almost believe his story was an exaggeration. Or, that this kind of thing happened only in the "Olden Times".

But persecution is real, not just the world over, but in America. Try coming out to someone, that you are Christian, and feel the derision, the scorn, even the outrage. I have wounds that are real, as well -- physical scars, psychic and emotional wounds.

I once told my pastor my story. His reaction was one of shock -- not just at all I had experienced, but at how amazing it is that I did not turn out like my family.

He said I had a steely bond with God. That is, no matter what was thrown at me, verbal abuse, food deprivation, medical neglect, physical abuse, and so on, I would not turn away from my Christian core.

When I first joined a church with my husband, and went up to receive the Eucharist for the first time in decades, I would get panic attacks. I feared my Faith being so visible.

But my church friends told me I felt that way because my Faith was so very precious to me.

Jesus tells us that, "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?" --[Matthew 16: 21-27].

I have been asked if I would do what I did all over again? My answer is Yes!  I "lost" so much of my life in the process, but what my family offered, I did not want. For, I have gained a whole new Life in Him!

[Related Postings: "My Heart Like a Fire", 8/30/11; "Hating this Life", 3,25/12; "The Victim Soul", 7/11/15].

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