M E R I D I A N     M A G A Z I N E

Bonds That Make Us Free, Part 11: A Violent Heart
by C. Terry Warner

By making victims of ourselves, we accuse and abuse other people. We make them out to be heartless victimizers, and that is a very victimizing thing to do to them. We display ourselves as suffering at their hands. And we evade acknowledging our mistreatment of them by accusing them of mistreating us. Though motivated more by fear of them than malice, we nevertheless can do them damage.

You can see the violence in this. When the violence is not outwardly expressed in acts and in words, it is perpetrated in the mind and heart. Violence is a mark of the self-betraying way of life.

The violence can be subtle and difficult to detect. A man named Wally told this story:

Once during a New Year's Eve party in our home most of those present took turns letting themselves be coached in singing by one of the guests who was a professional voice teacher. Despite widespread urging, I declined. I said I'd be too embarrassed. The jovial atmosphere seemed to vacate the room. After a bit, a few of the couples said they thought they should get home, and it wasn't even midnight. Only later did I realize that I was in effect saying to everyone present that I couldn't trust them enough to sing in front of them--they would judge me too harshly if I tried. My silent criticism of them made them feel uncomfortable, and they wanted to go home.

Would that all self-betrayers' violence were this mild. Unfortunately, it can also become aggressive and cruel. Often we will do almost anything to hang on to our victimhood, even if it means destroying something we treasure. Our need is to make whomever we are accusing as monstrous as possible.

The following story was told in a class by a man I'll call Merrill. I knew him well and much admired him as a husband and father. I mention my admiration to emphasize that self-betrayal is not a condition reserved for people with evil intentions. It is a trap we can all fall into. Merrill told the class:

For a few years after we were married, my wife, Tammy, and I lived in a trailer court that was filled with families who also had young children. When our daughters, Kelly and Kimberly, were about three and two, we came home one day to discover that all their toys were missing. After we searched for a time, a five-year-old neighbor girl finally admitted that she had taken the toys and showed us where she had hidden them.

At first Tammy and I weren't upset about the incident. It wasn't any big deal. But when word of what happened reached the five-year-old's mother, she denied that her child had taken the toys. The woman became so adamant that she told all the neighbors that our story was only a vicious rumor. She tried to poison our friends against us. Even her daughter's admission of the truth made no difference; she didn't come to us and apologize. She made no effort to make sure there were no continuing hard feelings.

I told Tammy I pitied this woman. "She's a sick human being," I said. But I have to admit I was angry.

Two months later the little girl had a birthday party. Every single child in the trailer court was invited except Kelly and Kimberly. I was livid. Inviting all but two of the neighborhood children--what a cruel thing to do! A mature woman, supposedly, was taking out her guilt on two little kids!

I was outside our home on the morning of the party, planting flowers and watching the children gather gleefully at the woman's trailer for the party. Soon they were playing games. Then Kelly and Kimberly came out of our trailer and saw the children having fun. They naturally went over to join the group. I had a sinking feeling as I watched them go. I was afraid the worst might happen.

It did. About the time my girls arrived, the other children were invited into the trailer and the door was closed, leaving Kelly and Kimberly standing outside alone. A bit later the children emerged again, and my girls joined them. The girl's mother began passing out ice cream cones. I watched in stunned amazement as she carefully gave one to every child but mine. Kelly and Kimberly just stood there, puzzled.

Then the woman passed out balloons, again to all the children but two. All those children were dancing and jumping excitedly, and my two were standing alone in the middle, silent and still.

I was furious. These two little girls were innocent and helpless. What a monster this woman was! She was using these kids to hide her guilt and get at me and my wife! It was easily the most detestable thing I had ever seen.

When Merrill told this story in the class, he presented it as an example of self-betrayal, to illustrate the lengths to which people will go to justify themselves. Many people in the audience were impressed. "She must have been insane," someone said.

Then a question was raised that riveted the interest of everyone present. A woman asked, "Why were you so offended at that woman if you were as innocent as you say you were?"

"Obviously, she was misusing my little girls," Merrill replied.

"You said she tried to ruin your reputation," another person added. "Weren't you doing the same to her?"

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

"Well, you said you were angry at this woman."

"Yes, but . . . "

"And you said she never came to you to be certain there were no hard feelings. But did you ever go to her?"

"Well, no, but . . . "

"Honestly, didn't you have just a little sweet taste of revenge when you said she must be sick?"

"Look," Merrill said, "that woman had something to straighten out with me!"

"And what about your children going to the party?" another person interrupted.

"Well, what about it?"

"You knew they weren't invited."

"Yes."

"Then why did you let them go?"

Another person piped up. "I know why. You were angry with this woman. You knew what would happen. You knew your neighbor would treat them that way. You wanted her to. Then you would have proof you were justified all this time in hating her."

"You were using your children just as much as she was," said another.

"She mistreated them, but so did you. You let them go. You set them up."

Not for several days, Merrill told me, did the pain and sorrow he began to feel that evening start to subside. Later he wrote:

The realization of what I had done to my children stunned me. I had used them. As I stood in front of the group, facing the truth for the first time, I remembered seeing Kelly and Kim standing puzzled and hurt in the midst of playing, gleeful children. I was the one who had put them there. In a desperate and selfish effort to believe the feelings I had toward this woman were justified, I was willing to abuse my own children.

This was a tough experience for me. I learned from it how easy it is to blind ourselves to our own wrongdoing by pointing to the wrongdoing of others. I'm not an evil person. I'm not naturally given to cruelty. But in my quest to be justified in my own eyes, I used whatever means were available, even my kids. I didn't feel cruel, but what I did turned out to be the actions of a cruel person.

Once we betray ourselves, accuse others, and box ourselves into the victim's role, we no longer see things the way they really are. Read more about this in the next section.

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