An Unloved Woman Page 7

  Yet Jesus also declares that “the one who is least in the kingdom is greater than he”. The reason Jesus made this observation may be that John, while he functioned as a herald, did not see the fulfilment of his prophecies. He was executed at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. He never saw Jesus’ death and resurrection. He never saw the coming of the Holy Spirit in power on the day of Pentecost. He never saw the thousands of new Christians who, filled with the Holy Spirit, were finally enabled to live in an era where obedience to Gods commands was made possible. He never saw a time when God’s people were freed from the threat of wrath and judgement.

  Once more we are presented with evidence that God’s plans to assert his rule over creation will prevail. The predicted coming of the Holy Spirit indwells the believer. A revolution takes place where the individual is enabled to bring their activities into alignment with God’s requirements. What was spoken of, by the prophets, reverberates throughout the New Testament. Millennia may have passed by but God has not changed. He speaks to us today through Scripture, its word comes to life under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

  “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom he also created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.”

  Hebrews 1:1-3

  So the man, Jesus of Nazareth, the one who was born to a virgin, lived, died, resurrected and ascended into heaven to join his Father, is declared by the author of the letter to the Hebrews to be God himself. All of his words spoken and recorded in the Gospels are the very words of God himself. He is the one who ushers in the New Covenant. Freedom from condemnation and sure judgement, has been made available to those who accept his shed blood as a substitute for their own.

  But there is more. About ninety-five years after his ascension into heaven, Jesus appeared to one of his disciples. The elderly apostle John, in exile on the island of Patmos records the words and accompanying visions that Jesus presented to him. This last book of Scripture, Revelation, provided important information to all humanity and comfort to Christians awaiting the return of Christ.

  It is impossible to attempt to discuss Revelation in detail. What must be said is that it brings history to a close. All that has been prophesied, all historical events since the creation, find their fulfilment and explanations in this book. Why? We ask ourselves. Why is the world the way it is? Look to Revelation. Why the suffering, the agonising deaths? Look to Revelation.

  In relation to this book, Revelation spells out profound truths. Adultery is one of the reasons that Christ will return in judgement. It is also a sign of the apocalypse to come. The widespread immorality which causes our civilisations to fester like gangrene is itself the subject of prophecy. This then, is more conclusive evidence that God’s commands are to be observed. That his attitude toward adultery has not, and will not, be rescinded.

  “The sexually immoral, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulphur.”

  Revelation 21:8

  Chapter 15

  Starting Out

  If I had to describe my earliest sense of self-awareness, it would be at around the age of ten years. For some reason, I had begun to develop values that expressed a steely, uncompromising pursuit of integrity. To my youthful mind, I wanted to be ‘good’. I had a highly sensitive conscience. It seemed impossible to lie. I could not live with lies. On top of that, I felt that I could never deceive and get away with it. I would blush easily and was sure that these blushes would give me away.

  Most women report that some form of unwelcome sexual advances have been experienced during their lives. If they are adults, they have a wealth of experience that allows them to maturely respond to the incident. Where they are children, the incident may leave the child scarred for life.

  What do I mean by ‘scarred’? The effect of an incident can result in behavioural problems. Ultimately, emotional maturity may be stymied. What is left is a physical adult whose emotional development may be arrested and/or distorted. Relationships fail to develop and may become unsustainable.

  This steely resolve to be ‘good’ was tested many times, I am sure. However, there is one memorable incident which has shaped my life. When I was around ten, a much-older boy came into my orbit. Aged seventeen or eighteen, he seemed to me to have all the physical attributes of an adult. On numerous occasions, he would pressure me for sex. At the time I had no idea what this meant other than it involved our genitals. I was terrified but managed to rebuff his advances. My life was one of churning terror. He came to me one night, yet I was still able to fend him off. Finally, I told my mother. I can still remember the incident to this day. We were on the back veranda. Mum was ironing. I hovered uncertainly trying to gather enough courage to broach the subject. It was so difficult because I didn’t really understand how to express myself.

  The result sent me into a turmoil. My mother told me I was a liar. The child who strived for integrity in all things was crushed. The one I had been taught to look to as a source of protection, my mother, refused to protect me.

  Soon after, he moved away, so my life returned to relative normalcy. I wasn’t angry, but that event changed my life forever. To my young mind, there was no longer any one on whom I could rely. It was up to me to take responsibility for my welfare. From that day on, I never trusted my mother. I was thrust into adulthood overnight. Because of this early trauma, the maturation process seems to have been distorted and I carried that inability to trust into my early adulthood.

  My relationship with my mother never recovered. We discussed the incident a few years ago and she sought my forgiveness. I have forgiven her. I think I understand her response.

  Despite this reconciliation, my behaviour towards my mother remained unchanged. There was no trust. No intimacy was in evidence towards her. I found it virtually impossible to overcome the behaviour patterns established in childhood and carried into adulthood. I didn’t trust her and I don’t trust others. To this day, I find it very difficult to share my sorrows and seek help.

  Chapter 16

  Iwan

  Iwan was the peace-loving phlegmatic to my deep, creative, passionate melancholy. We were ill suited. Life with him was like living in a desert. I thirsted and hungered but he was unable to nurture me. Though we lived cheek by jowl, I experienced a sense of acute isolation. As time wore on, rather than growing closer together, the distance between us became unbridgeable. Like the opposite poles of two magnets, the closer we got, the more violent the recoil. I was unbearably weighed down by more than fifteen years of unrelenting disapproval. In our final years together, any passion Iwan was able to muster manifested itself as contempt for what I held dear and revulsion for my body.

  Our sex life focussed on physical pleasure. There was no emotional intimacy. I think my early life led to some sort of failure to develop emotionally. I had the body of a woman with all the appetites one has, but my emotional immaturity affected my capacity to respond relationally.

  I’m embarrassed to say that on my wedding day, I recall looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, I don’t love him. Oh well, we can always get a divorce. I knew I wasn’t in love without even knowing what love was. Love stories, poetry and love songs meant nothing to me. They swamped the airways, literature and television, yet I remained uninitiated.

  Why did I marry him? If I am honest, I must say that it was for protection. I never considered myself to be attractive, so it was a surprise to find that upon starting work I was much sought after both by single and married men. Having a boyfriend provided me with a defence as I negotiated the traps that were laid for me on an almost daily basis. My immaturity was exposed once more. I didn’t have the capacity to fend off this attention on my own.

  I moved in with Iwan. It was not planned. Our living together was not a conside
red step. It was a convenience. Another thoughtless, immature response.

  I never thought of marriage. I was definitely opposed to having children. My life was a pursuit of hedonism. Parties, shopping, holidays, dining out and more shopping. I went on holiday to New Caledonia with a girlfriend and enjoyed all sorts of mischief. Soon after our return, Iwan stated that we should get married. No romantic proposal. No engagement ring, no Engagement Party. Thinking back, I don’t even know why he wanted to marry. Maybe it was his way of trying to reign me in. He tended to disapprove of my pursuit of diversions and spending habits. As I mentioned, I had never considered marriage. Despite this, I agreed to marry. Once more, I am embarrassed to say that my reasons for marriage were stupid. Life was getting a bit boring and this would be the ideal way to add some spice. I looked forward to the honeymoon. Not because it would involve our first sexual encounter (which was three years previous), but because we could take time off from work and go on a trip to Indonesia for a month.

  It is easy now, to look back and see where things went wrong. At the time, embroiled in the minutiae that constitutes the daily grind of work, domestic responsibilities and before I knew where I was, children, there was no time for reflection. My all-consuming desire was to defeat that enemy, exhaustion. My uppermost goal, to get enough sleep to face the coming day.

  I made things harder for myself by insisting on towelling nappies as opposed to disposables and insisted on ironing everything. We never had takeaway or convenience foods. Iwan was always reluctant to spend money, so every night after a full day at work, I had to prepare a home-cooked meal. We usually had steamed rice, a meat dish, a vegetable stir-fry and/or soup. Most of my cooking skills I had picked up from Iwan and his sisters. I never took shortcuts. No pre-prepared sauces, chicken pieces or cuts of meat. I used a mortar and pestle, chopping block, wok and Asian meat cleaver for all our meals. Only in recent times have I bought a blender. Despite all my efforts, Iwan never offered any appreciation, nor did he compliment me on what I had produced. After our move to Jakarta, he suggested that his mother teach me to cook. I cannot describe how this irked me!

  Marriage proved to be a disappointment. I had no friends of my own. They were all his friends. I didn’t fit in. I was miserable but didn’t realise it. Only the birth of my two daughters brought a fleeting sense of joy.

  Sex began to lose its appeal. Each time we finished, I would sob. Iwan thought I was having some sort of emotional response. I was. It was a response to how empty I felt. The physical aspect of sex no longer satisfied me. Every time we had sex, I was left unfulfilled. I needed something more. But I didn’t know what that something was.

  Our life together struggled on. It was only when I became a Christian that I began to analyse my marriage. I developed a commitment to Iwan that was never there before.

  As a result, there was a shift in our relations. There was a third person, Jesus, in our marriage. My behaviour changed. I was no longer focused on myself. I hoped that this development would improve our marriage. Instead, a new dynamic evolved. The more I gave of myself, the more Iwan withheld. It was confusing, inexplicable. It was as if the goodness within me was exposing something dark in him. Prior to this, our relationship had predictable behaviour patterns. We knew what the rules were: a stable indifference must be maintained at all costs. After conversion, my behaviour changed. By comparison, it seemed that all of Iwan’s behaviour was directed toward manipulating me so that I returned to the status quo. At all costs, indifference, coldness and predictability must be regained.

  We limped on for four years. By this time, we had lived in Indonesia for half that time. The darkness in Iwan seemed to reach new levels and it expressed itself through emotional and verbal abuse. His attitude toward me seemed to be one of disgust. When out shopping, he would distance himself from me and walk with my daughter. He was ashamed to be seen with me. I recall another incident when I was with a friend. He was standing nearby as she told me lovingly how much I meant to her. I happened to glance at Iwan. I was shocked and taken aback by the expression of naked contempt on his face.

  He was rarely at home, working late and on weekends and often stayed out late at night returning smelling of alcohol. One night, on his return, I challenged him and insisted on knowing if he was having an affair. I will never forget the expression on his face. There was no shame or guilt exhibited. What I witnessed was a mixture of pride, achievement and triumph. I was bewildered and angered. I nearly picked up a chair to throw it at him just to get that look off his face. Somehow, I was able to control myself. From this time on, he talked about divorce.

  Despite being a new Christian, I knew that divorce was just not acceptable. The church that I was attending would not perform marriages for divorced couples. This may seem rather strange in an age of general laxity in this regard. Being a Christian wife also means submission to the will of one’s husband. So I returned to Australia with my daughters, whilst Iwan stayed on in Jakarta.

  I believe that our marriage could have been restored. It was that essential element of devotion that was missing. If we had loved each other with that agape or unconditional love, forgiveness and restoration would be possible.

  Despite not having a love for each other, we were still bound together. The one flesh experience enabled a continuation of our union, inferior though it was. Iwan’s adultery eventuated in a severing of those invisible bonds. He became bound to another. Since becoming a Christian, I began to view our relationship differently. We were one: he the head and me the body. The tearing apart of this union was an excruciating experience. It was as if I was haemorrhaging spiritually. I was dying an agonising death.

  I went through the motions of living, shopping, feeding the children, sending them off to school, and washing. I neither slept nor ate for twelve months.

  A friend went with me to the Family Court. I remember my body being completely still as the Decree Nisi was given. Inexplicably, the judge smiled indulgently at me as he addressed me. Why was he so calm, matter of fact and routine? Couldn’t he see the blood?

  Chapter 17

  Awakening

  I returned to Australia in turmoil. The future was uncertain. I had never lived alone before. Having two children to raise alone was also a challenge.

  I was welcomed by the women at the church I went to. A number of men, mostly married, made it clear that they would like to become involved with me. After being disapproved of for so long, this state of affairs helped me to realise that I really did have some value. People actually liked me.

  Being still married, I avoided entering into a relationship with a man. There were few men who were actually eligible as the church was very small. After the divorce, I sought counsel from my pastor. He encouraged me by supporting my desire for remarriage.

  It was at this time that I developed the most significant relationship of my life. My conversion to Christianity was a dramatic, almost Damascus Road, experience. Like turning a one hundred and eighty degrees turn. This experience had the same impact. My life has never been the same since.

  The children in bed, we would talk. He shared with me intimate details of his life. I was drawn to him in a way I had never before experienced. Hours went by, but it felt like time had stopped. He was giving of himself and I was receiving, accepting. Something meaningful was being exchanged. He began to involve me in his life, and I responded accordingly. On another occasion, we went for a walk. Our hands accidentally brushed. It was like a jolt of electricity. I looked down and was surprised to note that there were no actual sparks flying as a result. I felt that everything about him was beautiful. As if he walked on holy ground. My greatest desire was to kneel before him and kiss his feet.

  Strange emotions began to surface and swamp me. I felt like I was riding a tsunami. At any moment, there could be disaster. I felt that I could barely stand up in the face of such an overwhelming force. I was buffeted and battered. A storm of terror mixed with ecstatic joy. Then the realisation came to me. I
was in love. It was thrust upon me unexpected and unsought. It was a shock. My eyes were opened. It was as if I had never been alive up till then. Every event in my life seemed to have been moving toward this cataclysmic moment. I felt that I had been waiting for him my whole life, even though I didn’t realise it.

  A woman in her late thirties tends to have the view that she has come to know what life is all about. Marriage, children, work, mortgages. There is a predictability about it. An expectation that life will offer more of the same.

  The reality of falling in love meant an end to the predictable. There was the potential for dramatic change. The question was how would this change manifest itself?

  Being a Christian, believing that God ordains every event meant that I had to come to terms with the fact that the love I was now experiencing had its source in God himself. Marriage must be a serious consideration. For this must be the eventual outcome for all Christian men and women when they love each other. However this was not to be.

  After about two years, his enthusiasm for me began to wane. Our meetings became less frequent. My love for him was unfailing. Even when he did and said hurtful things, I would forgive him and continue to faithfully consider what was best for him by praying for God to bless him.

  The gradual realisation that things were over between us, left me distraught. I had invested much emotional energy in finally committing myself to him only to find that his commitment, if there was such, was dissolving. A period of denial set in. It seemed inconceivable that the future which I had already begun to mentally rearrange, was not to be realised. I began to grieve this lost love and went through a period of confusion and intense anger toward him.