People misunderstand the phrase "Turn the other cheek." It doesn't just mean to forgive. It doesn't just mean to look the other way. If you read the passage in Matthew 5, it very literally means that if someone slaps you on one side of your face, offer them the other side to slap, as well. Figuratively, it means that if someone does anything to hurt or offend, let them, and let them do it again. Then, in verse 44, Jesus says, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you."
Not seeking vengeance, not repaying evil for evil, forgiving seventy times seven times. It's an ongoing theme in scripture. One that we should follow.
I still believe that, even after being closely connected with a narcissist.
My first glimpse into her narcissism was early in our relationship. We were at a Christmas gathering where she presented me with a very expensive decorative plate, with a little wind-up key that played music. I opened it, then sat down. I was shocked. The first thing I said was, "Oh, I don't have anything for you." There was no way for me to know we would be exchanging, after all. Her lips began to quiver. She blinked and stared and pretended to muster a smile. Then she dramatically covered her face and ran from the room, crying. Someone turned to me with head shaking and said, "I can't believe you didn't get her a present."
The gift-giving turned into a regular occurrence. Not always on holidays, but always extravagant. Always overly thoughtful. And always in public. All I could say was thank you-- thank you, but I don't have anything for you. There were never tears like the first incident. Instead, she would kindly forgive me, reach over and tuck my hair behind my ear, and smile. I gave in to the fact I was no match for her generosity. She was just better than me, and I had too much else going on, with my family, my job, my responsibilities. I couldn't seem to repay her.
Then, her vacuum cleaner broke, and I saw my chance. It was the first week in December, so it was perfect timing. I picked out a vacuum, wrapped it, and tied it with a bow. I was so excited to finally give back to this person who was obviously one of the most considerate friends I had ever known. To finally prove that I had a heart.
She opened it and her jaw dropped. After piling up the wrapping paper to throw it away, she took me aside, out of earshot of anyone else, and hissed low, "Make me feel like crap, huh?" She said it like it was a retaliation. Like we were standing on the street and I had shoved her down, and she was standing back up, ready to fight.
The only response I could think of was, "Sometimes people say thank you when they open a gift."
And then I understood. All of the gifts she had showered upon me. They were intended to "make me feel like crap."
This is such a tiny glimpse into my experiences with this woman. When the gifts no longer had their desired effect, she began handing them to me harshly, throwing them into my hands while telling me what a terrible person I was. Usually because I didn't spend enough time with my mother or I missed some opportunity to serve at church. She would make lists of upcoming church events, call me, and interrogate me about them one-by-one. If I said I wasn't going or I wasn't sure, she demanded an explanation as to why not, then preached on why I should have already planned to be there for every single one of them.
Yes, such a tiny glimpse.
Ten years passed. Ten years. I was out of cheeks and tired of hearing to the point of believing that I was a horrible person and unworthy of any of God's blessings. I also had begun to do less with the church than I ever had, to avoid having to answer for my behavior that was always so, so wrong. I began to build a wall. I stopped inviting her to my home, which was never clean enough for her. I was unavailable when she wanted to get together to criticize my weight. I didn't answer my phone when she called to tell me what a bad Christian I was, or that my kids were unruly, or that I didn't deserve my husband.
I finally learned that she was not a friend, that had never been her intention, and that I couldn't continue to take her abuse.
But I felt guilty.
Wasn't what I was doing contradicting the teachings of Jesus? Isn't shutting someone out the opposite of turning the other cheek? I thought so. I believed myself to be the guilty one, not her.
And then I read John chapter 8.
The Pharisees were hurling accusations at Jesus. Telling him he had a demon. He answered them, he interacted, he engaged. He knew he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he was their creator and worthy of their praise. He didn't deserve their hate. So, he admonished them. Explained to them that Satan is their father. Then, he said something about Abraham. That was too much. They said, "You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?"
It was then that Jesus asserted "...before Abraham was, I am."
To them, it was blasphemy. They couldn't wrap their minds around it, and so they hated it. They hated him. In verse 59, they picked up stones to throw at him.
What did Jesus do? Go ahead, go read it. Did he turn the other cheek? No, he didn't. Because it was not a slap, metaphorical or physical. It was something entirely different. They were going to destroy him. End him. Take away his ability to function, to live, to breathe, to do God's will and fulfill his purpose. It wasn't Jesus's time to die, so he hid himself and went out of the temple. He left. He did not wait around to be stoned. He did not let people hurt him to the point of destruction.
Jesus still didn't seek revenge. He still didn't refuse forgiveness. Knowing it was his responsibility to preserve his life, that's exactly what he did. He hid himself, and then he left. He removed himself from a situation that would destroy his purpose.
If someone hurts or offends you, yes, it's better to be wronged (1 Cor. 6:7). Don't take them to court, don't scheme or plot your payback, and please, please, don't try to turn everyone in the church against them. Turn the other cheek. Pray for them. Forgive. All of those biblical principles aren't practiced enough. By all means, do.
And if you're married to your abuser, that is a different conversation-- an issue I am unequipped to deal with in a blog post.
However. When someone else is seeking to destroy you. When you have been targeted by an unstable or confused individual who has made it a goal to tear you apart piece by piece. When you see your ability to serve God and fulfill your purpose slipping away to the point of your own destruction, it's okay to hide. It's okay to get away from that person. It doesn't make you weak and it doesn't make you a coward. It makes you Christlike.
To protect God's magnificent creation, so that she may continue to work for his pleasure and do his good will-- yes, protect her. Protect you. Dodge the stones. Then add that narcissist to your prayer list.
Not seeking vengeance, not repaying evil for evil, forgiving seventy times seven times. It's an ongoing theme in scripture. One that we should follow.
I still believe that, even after being closely connected with a narcissist.
The gift-giving turned into a regular occurrence. Not always on holidays, but always extravagant. Always overly thoughtful. And always in public. All I could say was thank you-- thank you, but I don't have anything for you. There were never tears like the first incident. Instead, she would kindly forgive me, reach over and tuck my hair behind my ear, and smile. I gave in to the fact I was no match for her generosity. She was just better than me, and I had too much else going on, with my family, my job, my responsibilities. I couldn't seem to repay her.
Then, her vacuum cleaner broke, and I saw my chance. It was the first week in December, so it was perfect timing. I picked out a vacuum, wrapped it, and tied it with a bow. I was so excited to finally give back to this person who was obviously one of the most considerate friends I had ever known. To finally prove that I had a heart.
She opened it and her jaw dropped. After piling up the wrapping paper to throw it away, she took me aside, out of earshot of anyone else, and hissed low, "Make me feel like crap, huh?" She said it like it was a retaliation. Like we were standing on the street and I had shoved her down, and she was standing back up, ready to fight.
The only response I could think of was, "Sometimes people say thank you when they open a gift."
And then I understood. All of the gifts she had showered upon me. They were intended to "make me feel like crap."
This is such a tiny glimpse into my experiences with this woman. When the gifts no longer had their desired effect, she began handing them to me harshly, throwing them into my hands while telling me what a terrible person I was. Usually because I didn't spend enough time with my mother or I missed some opportunity to serve at church. She would make lists of upcoming church events, call me, and interrogate me about them one-by-one. If I said I wasn't going or I wasn't sure, she demanded an explanation as to why not, then preached on why I should have already planned to be there for every single one of them.
Yes, such a tiny glimpse.
Ten years passed. Ten years. I was out of cheeks and tired of hearing to the point of believing that I was a horrible person and unworthy of any of God's blessings. I also had begun to do less with the church than I ever had, to avoid having to answer for my behavior that was always so, so wrong. I began to build a wall. I stopped inviting her to my home, which was never clean enough for her. I was unavailable when she wanted to get together to criticize my weight. I didn't answer my phone when she called to tell me what a bad Christian I was, or that my kids were unruly, or that I didn't deserve my husband.
I finally learned that she was not a friend, that had never been her intention, and that I couldn't continue to take her abuse.
But I felt guilty.
Wasn't what I was doing contradicting the teachings of Jesus? Isn't shutting someone out the opposite of turning the other cheek? I thought so. I believed myself to be the guilty one, not her.
And then I read John chapter 8.
The Pharisees were hurling accusations at Jesus. Telling him he had a demon. He answered them, he interacted, he engaged. He knew he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he was their creator and worthy of their praise. He didn't deserve their hate. So, he admonished them. Explained to them that Satan is their father. Then, he said something about Abraham. That was too much. They said, "You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?"
It was then that Jesus asserted "...before Abraham was, I am."
To them, it was blasphemy. They couldn't wrap their minds around it, and so they hated it. They hated him. In verse 59, they picked up stones to throw at him.
What did Jesus do? Go ahead, go read it. Did he turn the other cheek? No, he didn't. Because it was not a slap, metaphorical or physical. It was something entirely different. They were going to destroy him. End him. Take away his ability to function, to live, to breathe, to do God's will and fulfill his purpose. It wasn't Jesus's time to die, so he hid himself and went out of the temple. He left. He did not wait around to be stoned. He did not let people hurt him to the point of destruction.
Jesus still didn't seek revenge. He still didn't refuse forgiveness. Knowing it was his responsibility to preserve his life, that's exactly what he did. He hid himself, and then he left. He removed himself from a situation that would destroy his purpose.
If someone hurts or offends you, yes, it's better to be wronged (1 Cor. 6:7). Don't take them to court, don't scheme or plot your payback, and please, please, don't try to turn everyone in the church against them. Turn the other cheek. Pray for them. Forgive. All of those biblical principles aren't practiced enough. By all means, do.
And if you're married to your abuser, that is a different conversation-- an issue I am unequipped to deal with in a blog post.
However. When someone else is seeking to destroy you. When you have been targeted by an unstable or confused individual who has made it a goal to tear you apart piece by piece. When you see your ability to serve God and fulfill your purpose slipping away to the point of your own destruction, it's okay to hide. It's okay to get away from that person. It doesn't make you weak and it doesn't make you a coward. It makes you Christlike.
To protect God's magnificent creation, so that she may continue to work for his pleasure and do his good will-- yes, protect her. Protect you. Dodge the stones. Then add that narcissist to your prayer list.
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