Perfect Love Drives Out Fear

My dress, off the shoulder, full, and flowing was sea foam green (vintage 80’s) and matched my eyeliner almost perfectly. With my hair up, and my shoes dyed-to-match, we all piled into the car and headed to the prom. The pin to my corsage poked me as we all crammed in together, exchanging complements on our dresses and rental tuxes. We had decided to pair off as friends and go to prom as a group since none of us were seriously dating, and so everyone was relaxed and looking forward to taking in the prom experience. I was perched halfway up on my friends’ lap to accommodate 8 in a car that comfortably sat 4, laughing at something that was said when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted his car following behind us in the rear view mirror. The chatter in the car faded into the background, and my smile dropped as I was reminded of what I had, for a few moments, successfully forgotten. My mind began to roll the tape of the conversation in which I had told my abuser that I was going to the prom. He had responded angrily, reminding me that he did not like to share me, and that he would likely spend that night in misery. As the tape played, the twinge in my stomach grew to an ache, and my mouth felt dry. I wished instantly that I hadn’t agreed to go, and feared not only that he was angry, but desperately hoped that my friends wouldn’t notice him behind us as I had. My whole body felt heavy as the weight of reality crashed my party. Finally arriving, we squeezed our way out of the car onto the sidewalk, and, conscious of his watching, I hung back a half step behind my friends, my shoulders slumped, taking care not to appear to be enjoying myself in anyway. As we went in, tickets in hand, I felt grateful for the cover of the building, knowing that he could not likely come inside. I did my best to have fun in spite of his looming presence.

As an adult looking back at that night, I marvel at how quickly I accepted the full weight of responsibility for my abusers’ misery and any reaction he might have to my decision to attend prom, and yet, I can still feel and understand the tension of that night. To believe that I had the power to make him miserable and angry with my choices meant that I had power. To believe that I was powerless to affect his mood and demeanor meant that I was subject to the whim of a man over which I had no control whatsoever. That seemed scarier by far. Bearing both of our burdens and navigating the minefield of eggshells that was our relationship gave me an, albeit twisted, sense of control over my environment, as every decision I made was a calculated maneuver of self-posturing and preservation.

The ecclesiastical trial of my abuser is approaching, and this week I first learned that the person whom I had planned to have accompany me while testifying in court is busy on that day. I also learned, from the judicial panel, that I am not likely permitted to have a supportive person with me in the court room. As both of those news items hit me in the course of an hour this week, I felt pummeled by feelings of rejection, loneliness, and anger that stayed with me throughout that day and into the next. The force of those feelings scared me as I could see how much I was counting on the presence of my friend to help me get through the hours during which I am to give witness to the ugly, soul-bearing details of my abuse while, as is his legal right, my abuser gets to watch.

And so, just as I did on the night of my prom, I seized what little control I could, and made the choice to testify alone before the choice could be made for me. For me to choose to be alone means that I maintain power. To acknowledge how the thought of testifying alone makes me feel, and how I want someone to be with me on that day, acknowledges that I am vulnerable and have a need over which others have power.

So now that I see that I’ve fallen into the deep furrow of a life-long pattern, how do I climb up and out into a new, healthy way of being in this? I fear testifying alone, but I fear needing help and being vulnerable to the choices of others even more. 1 John 4 says “Perfect love drives out fear,” and so what does his perfect love look like here?

Lord, help me to allow you to perfect me in your love.

Amen