GRACE IS A TWO-WAY STREET
David, King of Israel, saw a beautiful woman, Bathsheba, from his rooftop—she was bathing and he decided that he wanted her. Bathsheba’s husband Uriah, one of David’s “Mighty Men”, was off fighting in the war. As one of the most powerful men in the land, David could have had any woman he wanted. In fact, an entire concubine was at his beck-and-call. However, he wanted Uriah’s wife.
I’ve often wondered what could have been going through her mind when David’s servants showed up at her home that day. “The King, wants to see me?” I wonder if she was worried that Uriah had been killed in battle. Did she actually think, “The King wants to have sex with me?”
The retelling of this story says that David committed adultery. But, David did more than commit adultery, he took from Bathsheba her innocence, her safety, her will and her personhood. David exerted his positions of power—if not physical power—over Bathsheba. There is no indication that she was a willing participant in David’s lust. This use of power-over to have sex with a woman is rape—David raped Bathsheba.
As a result of his rape, she became pregnant. David’s next sin was as bad as the first—he sought to deceive Uriah and when that didn't work, he had Uriah killed and then took Bathsheba as his own. Consequently, their infant son died as would four more of David’s sons. Solomon would redeem the throne—perhaps as God’s favor on Bathsheba, this great King was her son.
Power, fame and fortune infected the young shepherd boy and he, like so many, forgot who he was. David forgot that he was God’s chosen. He seemed to have forgotten how he once longed for God as a deer pants for the water. He seems to have forgotten how God guided and guarded him as he struggled for survival when Saul sought to take his life. He forgot the God to whom he sang praises, the God to whom he wrote psalms, the God who he trusted and adored. He seemed to have forgotten that he was only the king because God’s anointing was upon him. He forgot his purpose. Like many men, David was more successful battling the enemies of the land than he was battling the enemy within.
This story stirs in me the memories of sexual violence that I endured from childhood into adulthood by men who forgot--or never knew--that they were intended for greatness. I am reminded of words men spoke as they were having their way, I wonder what words David said to Bathsheba to justify his assault. Did he tell her that she was lucky to be chosen by him?
Each assault rendered me powerless. I never fought back, I simply closed my eyes and transported my spirit to another space until the assault ended. I wonder if Bathsheba was too stunned, too terrified to fight back. Or maybe she did, unsuccessfully. For years did not even speak of these incidents— I convinced myself that indeed I was at fault. Did Bathsheba blame herself? I wonder how often she fell asleep in her tears wishing she had denied the King's summons to come.
Like Bathsheba, a pregnancy resulted from one of the assaults. A beautiful soul came into this world and was raised by an amazing adoptive family. Although I was able to reunite with this child, for years I grieved as one whose child had passed from this world. I blamed myself for my pain and lived in shame for decades. Oh, how Mother Bathsheba grieved the death of her precious, innocent babe. I wonder, did she blame herself for the loss? Did she live in shame?
I believe, really believe that God has had a plan and purpose for our lives before we were formed in our mother’s womb. I really believe that the trauma we suffer is about our purpose, not our person. Satan cannot harm our soul so it goes for our bodies, our minds and our spirits. The goal is to render us powerless in the fight for good. I really believe that we overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:21)
The problem is, for this belief to be true, I have to also believe that God has a plan and purpose for the lives of those who hurt me. If I allow myself to believe that, somehow, I am the only one in the story that the evil one seeks to destroy is for me to believe that I am superior, that God’s grace is conditional, and that I am more worthy of grace than someone else.
To believe that God’s grace is conditional is self-damning—so often I am not worthy. Certainly hell would be my destination if it weren't for God's grace and mercy. The thing about grace is that we want it to be God’s “unmerited favor” for us, but we don’t want it for them, the one(s) who have caused us pain. It really gets us riled up to see the one who caused harm doing good while we hurt. Even the prophet Jeremiah asked, "Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why do all who are treacherous thrive?" (12:11)
Unfortunately, for our pride, grace is a two-way street. Fortunately, for our soul, grace is a two-way street. We don't get to control how or when or why God's grace is granted--and this is disconcerting. What's done is done. Whether charges were pressed or you've lived in silence--whether you are the offender or the offended--the time now is for confessing.
Note: Grace does not remove consequences or absolve one from accountability. Grace is the strength to endure. If you are being harmed, you can get help. The enemy doesn’t get free reign in your life.
Contact Rape, Abuse & Incest National NetworkNational Sexual Assault Hotline 800.656.HOPE
The solemnness of Ash Wednesday calls us into the depths of confession. Confession is more than an admission of wrong-doing, it is also an emptying out of all the gunk that has clogged our hearts and gotten in the way of our living fully and wholly in our purpose.
It is in the emptying of our pain, anger, frustration, shame and darkness that we make room for light, hope, peace, purpose, and love. In emptying out, we become free to live fully and wholly in our purpose.
Confession is freedom.
In 2018 I was, again, sexually assaulted. I was stunned, hurt, angry and ashamed. I should have known better, been smarter, more careful, less trusting. I didn’t report it—I’ve barely spoken about it. However, I did realize that the pain and shame of my past was clogging my heart. I couldn’t report because I blamed and shamed myself. I knew that if I did not find a path to healing, I would only be more broken and less free.
I had to confess.
I confessed the pains of the past, my fears, weaknesses and shame. I confessed that I felt helpless and powerless. It was in confession that I found the strength of God’s grace. Strength to heal. Strength to endure. Strength to thrive. Strength to be free.
“Note: This type of emptying out is best done with a therapist or trained spiritual advisor. It could be traumatic for friends/family to have to process our trauma.”
Maybe this is something David knew—or came to learn as a result of the devastation he caused. Maybe he had a sense that the only way to be his true self, to live fully and wholly in his purpose, was to confess—to empty himself out before God’s throne. I can only hope that Bathsheba knew this, too.
This Ash Wednesday, I confess in community as I have confessed in private.....
I confess that I have held on to my pain, nursed my wounds, and became a hero in my own story. I confess that my pride has fueled my determination and my pain has deterred my destination. I confess that shame has stunted my growth. I confess I have hid behind false guilt.
I confess.
Tonight as I kneel at the cross, I receive God’s grace and promise to intentionally, daily live fully and wholly in my purpose.
Will you join me at the cross?