God doesn’t waste any time when we’re all in.
After writing in my journal yesterday, I shared with Tom the revelation about my mom—and how much of my anger toward him was connected to unresolved pain from my childhood. I told him that I’m now on a quest to discover the specific things he does that trigger those old wounds.
As I started to mention a few—like selfishness or not loving me in my primary love languages (acts of service and quality time)—Tom gently responded, “Or maybe it’s your perception of selfishness or of me not doing things for you.” Then he said something that stopped me in my tracks: “I do a lot of things for you, but if it’s not what you’re expecting or wanting, it gets brushed aside like it never happened.”
Wow. That hit home on two levels. Not only have I been dismissing my husband’s efforts, but how many times did I do the same to my mom?
Perception is incredibly powerful. It can shape our reality in such a convincing way—but is it true for the other person? That thought gave me a lot to process.
It also made me realize that the enemy had been distorting Tom’s image in my mind—drawing a villain’s mustache and cape over him, casting him as the “bad guy.” But yesterday morning, God stripped that false image away. I suddenly saw more clearly. Tom isn’t perfect—he has his flaws—but I had been projecting additional faults onto him based on my own pain, making him out to be far worse than he really is. Without the mask and cape, he’s so much more attractive to me—inside and out.
Later that day, I brought dinner to my friend Susie, who’s in the middle of a move. As I shared all these revelations with her—Susie, who had lovingly helped set me straight just days before—her eyes filled with tears. She reached out, hugged me tightly, and cried. Then she said something I will never forget:
“I’m so, so sorry, Linda, for what you endured as a child. The very person who should have protected you from injury was the one who inflicted it.”
She pulled back, looked into my eyes with such tenderness, and said, “You are so beautiful, Linda.” She spoke words over me that made me feel seen, loved, and special.
In that moment, it felt like I was a child again—and she was standing in as the mother I never had, speaking for the first time the words I had longed to hear. I was overwhelmed… but I was able to receive them. And I will allow those words to begin healing that part of my heart.
When I got home, I shared all of this with Tom. I let the emotions flow.
My mom was so young—emotionally and relationally immature—when she became a parent. She had no idea how to nurture or care for two little girls. She was too caught up in her own struggles and needs to notice ours. As a child, I never really felt loved, nurtured, or “special.” My sister and I often felt like inconveniences—always in the way.
Even as I say this, I recognize that this was my perception. My mom probably did love me—but she didn’t know how to express it in a way I could receive or recognize.
Through tears, I asked Tom if he ever felt like I was an “inconvenience” or an “imposition.” He said not really—maybe in a moment or two, but not as an ongoing feeling.
That’s when another connection hit me. When Tom shows impatience with me, my emotional reaction can be so intense. Could it be that I’m connecting his impatience to the rejection I felt as a child? As a lifelong people-pleaser, I try so hard to avoid rejection. So when he’s impatient, it touches that deep wound—and I perceive his impatience as rejection.
That was a huge realization.
And then I thought… how often do we do this to God?
How often do we project a villain’s mask onto Him—assuming He’s treating us like our parents did, accusing Him of things He never did, interpreting His silence or delay as disinterest or rejection?
Yesterday’s Oswald Chambers devotion said that God walks us through these kinds of moments so that we can gain a greater knowledge of Jesus Christ. But if our perception of Him is clouded or distorted, then our knowledge of Him is flawed too.
Lord, please reveal all the ways my perception is off. Show me where I’m not seeing You clearly. Remove the mask I’ve placed on Your face, and let me see You as You truly are—loving, caring, compassionate, and delighting in me. Help me receive the truth of Your love, and know deep down that I am cherished and special in Your sight.
No comments:
Post a Comment