Rethinking Self-Compassion

When Instagram tells me I should be practicing self-compassion, I feel unsettled. When a woman I’m counseling fills in the blank of my prayer prompt, “God help me…" with “Give myself grace,” I pause. Why? For one, in the moments I presumably need it the most, I can’t muster it. How can I give myself grace when there’s no grace in me to give? And second, when I try to find self-compassion in the Bible, it remains elusive.

And so, I want to trace compassion through the pages of Scripture and understand how we are to respond when we are suffering and tempted to be too exacting of ourselves or when guilt lingers even though we know we are forgiven.

Compassion in Scripture starts with God. How does he treat the downtrodden? How does he respond to the suffering…those who suffer at the hands of others and those who suffer because of their own sin?

The first thing we see is that compassion/graciousness/mercy are attributes of God. He doesn’t have to put on compassion or work it up through willpower. In ways unique to the Godhead, He is compassion, mercy, and grace. He tells Moses on Mount Sinai (during the second visit, after Moses has broken the tablets in dismay over Israel’s rebellion in making the golden calf during his first trip) that he is,

“The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,” Exodus 34:6

David proclaims,

“The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.” Psalm 145:9

And Matthew describes this attribute on display in Jesus: “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36

Compassion starts with God. It is who he is and what he does.

The second thing we notice is that the pinnacle expression of God’s compassion is demonstrated in the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross.

“For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” 2 Corinthians 5:21

“He has rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son he loves.” Colossians 1:13

“He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.” Titus 3:5

In 1 Peter 1:3, Peter explicitly connects God’s call to believers made possible by the resurrection as stemming from this same attribute.

“According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”

So far we observe compassion originating in the personhood of God and extended to us fully in Christ. If we continue, we see that the reality of God’s compassion for us creates a call in us to respond to other fellow sinner-sufferers in like kind. All believers in Jesus are the servant with the unpayable debt who are met with mercy and compassion, and of whom mercy and compassion towards our fellow debt-owing servants is required. (Matthew 18:21-35). Throughout the New Testament, the refrain is the same.

“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Luke 6:36

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Colossians 3:12

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as Christ God forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

Now, to be clear, being merciful to fellow sinners, being patient and gentle, and forgiving those who have wronged us are not always easy commands to obey. But because they are commands, rooted in the character and power of God, there’s hope for us as Spirit-indwelled believers to grow in obedience to them. Is the impulse towards self-compassion categorically the same? Is it implied in other commands or a logical extension of how the theme of compassion is developed in the Bible? It is not ever commanded directly, which is noteworthy because the vibe I get sometimes from influencers and experts in mental health is more akin to “How DARE you not have self-compassion?!”

As a believer in Jesus, a believer in his inerrant, efficacious Word, and as a biblical counselor to women, often in the hardest places in their lives, I ask myself, when presented with the invitation to have mercy on myself…Is this scriptural? Because to be frank, if it’s not, I don’t have time for it. On one hand, I know I’ve sinned, and I know I’ve suffered. Honestly, I know sometimes I’m hurting really deeply. That impacts my relationships and my growth in holiness. Is the answer "Give yourself grace"? Because if it is, I’m in trouble. The weight of regret leaves no room for so-called self-compassion, for this grace I’m supposed to be able to somehow find amongst the bad memories and lingering heartbreak. Can I just echo Paul, “What a wretched man I am!” (Romans 7:24).

Yes, I think I can. And therein lies the answer. I don’t need self-compassion. I need rescue! I don’t need to give myself grace. I’m dead in the water on those counts. But Paul keeps going, and he’s pointing me in the right direction: “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

So when I am in despair because I see myself and don’t see in myself any ounce of grace to comfort myself…I do have Jesus Christ my Lord. I have his rescue, his mercy, his compassion, his grace. It is a fair (and perhaps too uncommon) question, “But how do I avail myself of that compassion? What do I do when I feel overwhelmed in real misery?” When I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I’m crumbling, if the answer is not some variety of "Go easy on yourself,” what is it?

The pattern I see in Scripture is RECEIVE the grace and mercy and compassion of Jesus. This is not auto-generative…but there is something…often many things for me to do on route to this receiving.

Hebrews is one place I see this fleshed out…

“We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16

Who gets me? Who knows my story? Who knows how hard it is still? Who understands? And who sticks around once they do? Who can make it better? Jesus does, and Jesus can. So I…

1) Draw near

2) Receive mercy

3) Find grace that helps in time of need

Again, how?

I do that in prayer. I do that with a posture that looks upward and not inward. Me with uplifted open hands saying, “Mercy,” not me shuffling around in the dark corners of my heart trying to find the elusive self-compassion.

I come to the throne by going to his Word, searching for the commands, principles, and promises that touch the points of my own weakness and grief. I receive mercy by gathering with his people, celebrating the Lord’s Table, worshipping at that throne of grace.

In all of these ways, I look for grace that helps until I find it. The psalmist captures the spirit of what I am talking about: “May your compassion come to me so that I may live, for your instruction is my delight." (Psalm 119:77)

Ultimately, our goal is to see ourselves as the Lord sees us. He cares about us when we are hurting. He is near to us in our brokenheartedness. (Psalm 34:18) He forgives us and does not treat us as our sins deserve. (Psalm 103: 3, 10) When we are overwhelmed, he helps us discern and apply, in our own particular set of circumstances, what “one thing is needed” (Luke 10:42). It might be confession or assurance of forgiveness. It might be rest, or better nutrition, or saying no to something that someone else can do. It might mean a long walk alone or a slow morning with a friend. It might mean time away from social media and more time memorizing Scripture. It might mean sitting down with a counselor or a pastor or a seasoned saint to figure some of it out. It can mean so many things, all done in dependence on the grace and mercy received from a compassionate, loving Savior. I can’t do it on my own. But I can receive it from the throne of grace, and with Jesus’ help, I want to keep on getting better at doing that, free from the impossible burden of self-compassion.

Good Endings: Learning from Powlison about Restoring Joy for the Sexually Broken

David Powlison might be the only author I have ever read whose books I have recommended to friends, family, and counselees without any qualification. Throughout his ministry counseling and equipping counselors, he addressed the hard issues with the right measures of urgency and winsomeness. His short book, Making All Things New: Restoring Joy to the Sexually Broken, is no different.

One of the most unique things about this book is Powlison’s audience. Many books addressing sexual brokenness understandably adopt an either/or approach. There are solid books written to victims of sexual sin, and there are helpful resources for those struggling with a variety of sexual temptations. There are really helpful books on healthy and holy sex in marriage, and books on meaningful, joyful singleness. Powlison takes the road less traveled in addressing the victim, the sinner, the spouse, and the single person (acknowledging along the way that most of us fit more than one of those categories in different seasons of our lives). It’s rather remarkable he attempted such an ambitious goal, and more remarkable still that he succeeded so thoroughly, undoubtedly because he wrote with Christ-dependent humility and thoughtful dependence on God’s Word.

Powlison’s summary of Scripture’s message on sexuality captures this approach and highlights a core theme of the book: gospel renewal is for all of us.

“In sum, the Lord has a highly positive view of sex. He has a highly negative view of immorality. And he has a deep concern both for the consensually immoral and for the victims of the criminally immoral. He has more mercy than we can imagine. Of course, there are not two gospels, one for sinners and one for sufferers! There is the one gospel of Jesus Christ, who came to make saints of all kinds of sinner-sufferers and sufferer-sinners, whatever our particular configuration of defections and distresses.” (p. 19)

A second strength of Making All Things New is how it works like powerful camera lens, able to capture the wide panoramic foundational issues and background context, while also proving capable of zeroing in on practical details with focus that makes its counsel livable in the day-to-day.

This focus from wide to close-up is at its best in the middle chapters of the book, each considering renewal from a different angle. An encouraging example of this is in chapter four, where Powlison considers the timeframe, pacing, and duration of renewal. A key takeaway: because renewal is lifelong, repentance is a lifestyle. There is no “one and done” method, no “shock and awe” version of recovery from sexual addiction or healing from sexual abuse. Powlison fleshes out the theological concept of progressive sanctification practically. He says, “Sanctification is a direction,” and wisely helps strugglers and sufferers be intolerant of despair and lust while also being patient with their own growth and healing by placing their trust in their Lord step by step. He memorably quotes Luther to drive in this point:

This life is not righteous, but growth in righteousness; it is not health, but healing; not being, but becoming; not rest, but exercise; we are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it; the process is not yet finished, but is going on; this is not the end, but it is the road; all does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified. (68)

As a biblical counselor to women, I regularly find myself in the privileged role of walking alongside those facing sorrow in their lives because of the impact of sin on God’s good gift of sex and sexuality. As a woman who lives in that same fallen world, I have benefitted greatly from the message of hope and renewal found in this honest, compassionate, and eminently practical book. I reread it nearly every year, and I wholeheartedly recommend it for those wanting to understand steps they can take toward Jesus as they seek the renewal only he can give.

Bilbo, Books, and Biblical Counseling

Although I had a truly wonderful fourth-grade teacher who introduced me to Narnia (thank you, Mrs. Bounds!), and even though I was a very bookish child, I somehow reached adulthood without knowing J. R. R. Tolkien’s name or literary legacy. That means Peter Jackson made the introduction, and although it was late, it was very welcome.

At the time, I was spending long hours in a rocking chair, caring for a nursing infant with reflux and sleep issues. So it was then, in my twenties, that I checked out The Hobbit  from the library and read it, followed quickly by the Lord of the Rings volumes. That beautiful baby turns twenty-five this year, and I owe her thanks for giving me an opportunity to sit still (or rock, as it were) and pore over those books.

Years later, as a forty-something, after more sorrow and tragedy than I will detail, I was numb with pain and blind to beauty. A trauma counselor pointed me to fiction as a means of finding my way back into my own story’s meaning. Tolkien’s Middle Earth is one of the places I went. As I have considered a title for a blog series of book recommendations I hope to share, I have been reminded of a conversation from the final volume.

In The Return of the King, Bilbo realizes that the story that had its “beginning” in his own life would not reach resolution until after his death. He suggests Frodo continue the tale in a book of his own. Along these lines, Bilbo asks,

“Have you thought of an ending?”

And Frodo responds,

“Yes, several, and all are dark and unpleasant.”

I confess that while I am unlike Frodo in his world-saving role, I can be a lot like him in my imaginings of dark and unpleasant endings. I am sure that I still shock my cheerful, glass-half-full husband of three years with my regular off-handed comments about what to do with the leftovers in case I die or when to water the flowers I planted in case I have a car accident, am subsecuently convicted of manslaughter, and spend the rest of my life in prison. Doom and gloom are just never far out of my mind.

Bilbo corrects me (and Frodo)…

“Oh, that won't do! Books ought to have good endings.”

And as a Christian, I agree. Our stories are meant for good endings. But the beginnings and middles of our stories can be so hard!

In my own quest, small as it seems, I am on a journey to find the books that point the way to the good endings. Not unlike Frodo and friends, our journeys are fraught with danger, temptation, and evil. Same-sex attraction? Suicidal ideation? Lasting depression? Paralyzing anxiety? Decimating grief? Destructive marriage? Wayward children? Treacherous betrayal? Incest? Intrusive thoughts? Adultery? Abandonment? Divorce? Cancer? Chronic illness?

All dark and unpleasant. But in the series, “Good Endings,” I hope to introduce the books that tackle these subjects and others in truthful, beautiful, and helpful ways so that we can find our way to the good endings in our own stories. And of course, many of these books I plan to describe point either directly or indirectly to a truth that Tolkien hints at through Bilbo’s wistful wonderings.

Bilbo: How would this do: “And they all settled down and lived together happily ever after?"

Frodo: “It will do well, if it ever came to that."

While we live here,  our lives are interwoven with light and joy amidst the dark and unpleasant. On our worst days we understand Frodo’s hesitation to believe it can still all work out. On our better days, when we believe there is a God working all things together for the good of those who love him, we often still feel like Bilbo is on to something when he responds,

“Ah! And where will they live? That's what I often wonder.”

Happily ever after? Yes. Together? Please. But where? Ultimately, it’s not here, but There.

Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away. Revelation 21:3-4 CSB

Based on his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. Peter 3:13 CSB

In the upcoming periodic series, Good Endings, I hope to talk about the books that help us live as children of the light in a world touched by darkness. I want to read books that help me live this day in light of THAT Day and share them with you along the way.

How to Thrive in Counseling, Even If You're Scared to Start

Sitting on Both Sides of the Counseling Room

I’ve sat on both sides of the counseling room. I remember the flood of emotions and the racing thoughts. Every woman who walks through the door carries comes in with concerns, expectations, hopes, and questions. Some of the most common ones include:

• Will I be understood?

• Will this actually help?

• What if it doesn’t?

I may not be able to answer all of these questions right away, but I can do my best to speak to some of the deeper fears behind them.

One way I try to lay a foundation for a first session is by inviting women to fill out a personal background questionnaire before we meet. I used to say it helped us “hit the ground running,” but I’ve come to describe it differently. What it really offers is space—for both of us—to take a deep breath at the beginning. We aren’t starting entirely from scratch. Many women have found that putting parts of their story down on paper beforehand brings unexpected clarity.

When I receive this document, I read it prayerfully, asking God to help me understand the heart behind the words and prepare me to listen with compassion.

How to Make the Most of Counseling

There are other things you can do to make the most of the opportunities biblical counseling can provide. Here are a few suggestions:

1. Be committed.
Come to each session with a hopeful and humble posture. Counseling is a space for learning—about yourself, about God’s care and character, and about how he might be inviting you into growth and healing. Lean into the promise, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13) And remember, you can come with a heart that’s crushed, by your sin, by betrayal, by living in a broken world. Jesus is not only high and holy; he is also near the humble and heartbroken (Isaiah 57:15).

2. Be honest.
I know that talking about the hard places in your life isn’t easy. It takes time to feel comfortable. I consider it a privilege to hear whatever you’re ready to share. The more open you can be, the more clearly we can both begin to see how God may be working.

3. Be patient—with yourself, with me, and with the process.
Struggles rarely form overnight, and they don’t usually resolve overnight either. It may take a few sessions to get a full picture of your story. Change often comes slowly and in stages. But Jesus has promised to finish what he begins (Philippians 1:6), and counseling is one of the many ways we can witness him doing that work.

4. Engage outside the session.
Occasionally, I’ll offer growth assignments aligned with what we’re working on—things to reflect on, practice, or pray through between our meetings. At the end of each session, we’ll identify at least one way to seek God’s help in the days ahead. Let that focus shape your prayers as you walk with him through the counseling process.

Our struggles can feel overwhelming. But we don’t face them alone. Our help comes “from the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:2). Jesus knows and cares deeply about every personal and relational burden we carry. He speaks through His Word, works by His Spirit through His people, and—graciously—sometimes uses counseling as a means to extend that care.

Thoughts on Grief and Hope a Week After Easter

Please note: This article contains references to suicide.

I found out on Easter Monday that a counselee I worked with years ago took her life on Easter night. There are simply times when words fail. What do we say? What do we pray? What does God say? I have been ministered to by three different places in God’s word this week as I have mourned with those who mourn.

Psalm 88 is a surprising psalm, especially for those who, like me, are not from faith traditions that sing through the Psalter. These are God’s words for God’s people to sing corporately. I read the Psalms on repeat, and when I land here again, I am always surprised at how honest, raw, and without immediate resolution they are.

“I am overwhelmed with troubles
    and my life draws near to death.

I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
    I am like one without strength.

I am set apart with the dead,
    like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
    who are cut off from your care.”

Psalm 88:3-5

These words were true for the people of Israel, true for the church, but as Christopher Ash points out in his commentary on the psalms, they reach the peak of their fulfillment in the mouth of Christ. He is the Man of Sorrows. He knows.

I’ve also been reminded of Romans 8:26-27:

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.”

It is comforting to me that God the Spirit, who has command of every language, groans for his children to God the Father, to God the Son. He is groaning for a believing family as they sit, still reeling with the unexpectedness and depth of their loss, groaning with them as they grieve.

As I have walked with my own family and friends and also with women in the counseling space this past week, I’ve been especially mindful to ask God to work and will and, yes, intercede for them because I am again reminded of how often I do not “know what to pray for as I ought.” And I am asking him to do things in them that will be light to them when it is very dark.

Finally, in reflecting on hearing the Easter story again this past week, I was moved by my pastor’s description of Peter’s grief turned to joy. He recounted Peter’s failure and inevitable regret, imagined his thoughts, “I didn’t want it to end this way.” And it didn’t. And because of the empty tomb…still empty this week, some two thousand years later, it doesn’t have to end that way for us either. God help us believe that resurrection means something for all the places in our lives that seem beyond hope. God, help me trust that you are always at work in the dark, even when I can’t see.

On Pollen and Humility. Or, How I Learned the Truth of 1 Peter 5:3-8 the Hard Way

All of you clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because,

God resists the proud
but gives grace to the humble.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your cares on him, because he cares about you.

1 Peter 5:3-8 CSB

It has been almost twenty-five years since I lived in seminary housing at Southeastern (SEBTS) in Wake Forest, North Carolina. I was not the student in those days, but I was learning a lot. It must have been this time of the year because I remember walking to the playground with my blonde pig-tailed two-year-old and being baffled that the metal slide was covered in yellow dust. “Is there a sulfur plant near here?” Ahhhh… the introduction of pollen to a native Texan who grew up wondering what all those allergy med commercials on TV were for. “Northerners who aren’t as tough as we are, I suppose.” Ahem. The ignorance of youth.

I wish my ignorance and arrogance were limited to my lack of understanding of spring allergens. (And sulfur plants undoubtedly.) But, of course, they weren’t. I was in the midst of a long season of confusing suffering. One source of my confusion was centered in my definition of abuse. I’ve shared some of those thoughts here. But a foundational belief that made my suffering more acute was a misunderstanding of the way God works in the world. I had thought that if I was a “good girl,” things would go well for me. I thought that’s how God treated people. I was not unexposed to suffering as a child, but it was really easy for me to interpret people’s suffering through the lens of what I perceived as their failure. I aimed to do better and assumed I would receive better. I was both ignorant and arrogant.

In, Suffering and Heart of God: How Trauma Destroys and How God Restores, Diane Langberg describes it this way:

Our egocentricity says to us, “You have experienced these things because you have “_____,”—not been responsible, not loved your spouse well, not made moral choices, etc. Implicit is the idea that if they did what we did, made similar choices to ours, or behaved well, then injustice would not be present in their lives. If someone is downtrodden or oppressed, it is probably their fault.” (p. 17)

But there I was, experiencing “these things” even though I’d checked the right boxes.

Something to note in this passage that I am certain I could not see clearly at the time is that while God humbles his children, He does not humiliate them. His response to our humility is lifting us up, showing us favor, and caring for us. This informs how we can care for friends, family members, and counselees who are brought low by their suffering: seek to understand their situation from a place of humility, gently encourage them to seek God’s perspective of their situation, remind them that God cares for them, and point them towards the hope that as they trust and obey, God has promised to lift them up, “at the proper time.”

As a young believer, I was quick to assign blame when I encountered certain types of suffering. I did that with myself, and I did it with others. Sorrow did not soften my stance on sin, but it did humble me and help me be slower to make assumptions until I know someone’s story more deeply and understand the context of their lives well enough to discern what biblical commands speak into their situation. It is one of the many places we can see God’s wisdom given to us in his instruction, “Clothe yourselves with humility toward one another.” For my part, the pollen on my windshield in spring always reminds me to dress myself with that humility.

3 Reasons Why I Appreciate Esther’s Smith’s, “A Still and Quiet Mind: 12 Strategies for Changing Unwanted Thoughts”

Biblical counselor Esther Smith’s 2022 book, “A Still and Quiet Mind: 12 Strategies for Changing Unwanted Thoughts,” has been my top recommended resource to counselees since it came out. Here are three reasons why.

1. When we are having a helping conversation, I don’t think shared experience is a prerequisite. 2 Corinthians 1:3-7 is instructive to me on this point, with its hugely meaningful description of our God, “who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble.” That said, it is also true that God often chooses to redeem our suffering by using the lessons he has taught us in it to bless a fellow sister or brother in Christ. Such is the case with Esther Smith as she manages the somewhat difficult balancing act of writing from her own experience without focusing on herself.

2. One of this book's strengths is that it acknowledges its limitations. It can’t be a comprehensive do-it-yourself manual for everyone struggling with anxiety, intrusive thoughts, or post-traumatic stress. What it can do, and does well, is say, “Here are 12 things to try if what you are doing isn’t working.” My counselees have found different chapters helpful but have all been meaningfully helped by multiple strategies offered.

3. In the counseling room, I often see that one of my primary tasks is helping reduce the distance between what a woman believes is biblical and what she feels is practical. Biblical and practical, properly understood, are the same thing. We’ve been given everything we need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3). Smith’s emphasis throughout the book on change occurring within the context of a relationship with Christ closes that perceived gap for people in very meaningful ways.

As followers of Christ, we know that we are to seek the transformation of our minds. For those who struggle with unwanted thoughts, A Still and Quiet Mind points to helpful ways to do just that in the context of our relationship with Jesus. I’ll end with a favorite quote, “Telling ourselves to think something different is inadequate. Encountering God and experiencing who he is in our lives has the power to change everything.”

Detecting Abuse in Marriage: Setting Aside Myths and Seeking Hope

As a newlywed serving in missions thousands of miles from home, she hid in the tiny apartment bathroom and prayed the door lock would hold. The next time she sought refuge on the balcony and hoped there were enough watching eyes outside to stall what her husband called his “explosive anger.” She knew she was far from perfect and tried to confess her sin to her husband, but she found that over time her words would be used against her in ways far more painful and frequent than the periodic violence. She could not bear the shame of disappointing the mission board or the dread of telling her parents the truth, nor could she afford a plane ticket back home. While she understood that what was happening in her marriage was terribly wrong, her experience didn’t fit her preconceived ideas about domestic violence. “Besides,” she reasoned, “I love my husband. I know God can change people, and sometimes it seems like things really are getting better.” Then the tension would build, and things would spiral out of control again.

Stereotypes about domestic violence can blind victims and those who love them to the reality of what’s really going on in abusive marriages. Correcting the myths we believe about the dynamics of abuse is essential if we want to help victims find a path toward healing.

Myth: Abuse always entails broken bones or black eyes.

Reality: When physical abuse occurs in marriage, it is always serious, regardless of severity.

Physical abuse is any intentional action taken on the part of a spouse that may lead to physical harm. It includes a spectrum of behaviors too wide-ranging to fully enumerate. Reckless driving, hitting, choking, pinching, throwing objects at someone, preventing sleep, or denying medical care are all examples of physical abuse. All types of violence in marriage cause significant harm as the victim attempts to make sense of these kinds of treatment in what should be the loving, safe, context of marriage.

 Myth: Domestic violence is only physical.

Reality: Emotional abuse is a broad term that can include mental, verbal, psychological, and spiritual abuse. James said, “For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body” (Jam 3:2). So, what is the distinction between sin, even truly grievous sin, and abuse? Where is the line between really difficult and destructive? When assessing emotional abuse, it is important to examine the context.

On one end, consider the aim of words and behavior. Be aware of patterns rooted in entitlement and pride that aim to control, coerce, or punish their spouse. Is one spouse defining the narrative in a way that persistently excludes or minimizes the perspective and pain of the other spouse?

On the other end, examine the response of the offending spouse after conflict. Do they seem unable or unwilling to consider the weight of their own sin? In abusive relationships, there are sometimes occasions of remorse and periods of relative calm, so it can be hard to know if a spouse is repentant. An important indicator of godly repentance is when a spouse is allowed to grieve what has been said and done to them, instead of being forced to prove forgiveness by immediately “moving on” or “not bringing up the past.”

Myth: The Bible says the husband’s and wife’s bodies belong to each other, so sexual abuse can’t occur in marriage.

Reality: While there is ample room in God-honoring marriages for struggles with sexual intimacy, including differences in appetite and preference, there is no room for “unrelenting pressure, callous disregard, unwanted acts, coercion, degradation, constant accusations of affairs, technological abuses, or direct physical violation.” [1]

Sexual abuse in marriage occurs when one spouse forces or coerces the other person to participate in sexual activity. In many instances, wives will often reluctantly agree in order to avoid what they deem worse consequences for themselves or their children. The nature of sexual abuse in marriage is incredibly disorienting to the victim, and if they seek help, it will often be for the resulting depression, fear, and anxiety.

Conclusion

Most English versions of the Bible don’t use the word abuse to describe the pervasive misuses of power that these descriptions portray. But the Bible is far from silent on these sins, and others like them, where a partner disdains the image of God in their spouse. Victims can join with the psalmist in lament:

“Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us,
    for we have had more than enough of contempt.
Our soul has had more than enough
    of the scorn of those who are at ease,
    of the contempt of the proud.” (Ps 123:3-4)

As I think through the illustration of the missionary wife I mentioned at the beginning of the article, the indicators of domestic violence are obvious to me now. But now, almost thirty years ago, when I was the woman hiding in the bathroom, not many of these things were clear. I struggled for long years to understand how I was to obey God in the middle of the chaos. I believed things that were not true: myths about the nature of abuse, lies about what God expected of me, and distortions about the character of God. I am so thankful for the mercy of God and thankful for the resources available now, that were not available then. I am also humbly honored to walk alongside victims and survivors and point them to God who sits on a throne of grace and gives mercy to those who come in a time of need.

Questions to consider:

1. What misconceptions have you had about the nature of abuse in marriage?

2. In Romans 1:18, Paul talks about how unrighteousness can suppress the truth. How might this reality shape the process of trying to help a friend who is a victim of domestic violence?

3.  What can you do to better equip yourself to minister to victims of abuse God might put in your sphere of influence?

While it is beyond the scope of this article to address the complexities of responding to domestic violence, please consider the following authors and resources as ways to learn more.

If you are a victim, you can visit the National Domestic Violence Hotline’s website or call to speak with a volunteer trained in crisis intervention and developing a safety plan at 1-800-799-SAFE.

Is it Abuse? A Biblical Guide to Identifying Domestic Abuse and Helping Victims by Darby Strickland

The Self-Centered Spouse: Help for Chronically Broken Marriages by Brad Hambrick

The Emotionally Destructive Relationship: Seeing It, Stopping It, Surviving It by Leslie Vernick

Becoming a Church that Cares Well for the Abused, edited by Brad Hambrick

 [1]These categories are taken from and expanded upon in Darby Strickland’s, “Is it Abuse? A Biblical Guide to Identifying Domestic Abuse and Helping Victims,” p 154-158.