Tag Archives: codependency

Was Paul Codependent?

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Scripture

Journal 2017

I call God as my witness . . . that it was in order to spare you that I did not return to Corinth. (2 Corinthians 1:23-2:4 NIV)

If the Apostle Paul had shown up in my counseling office, I wonder what I would have said to him? He says he chose not to return to Corinth “in order to spare them.” But it sounds more like he was protecting his heart. He claims he stayed away from the Corinthians out of love for them, but in the same breath he admits: So I made up my mind that I would not make another painful visit to you. For if I grieve you, who is left to make me glad but you whom I have grieved? In psychological jargon, we’d say this was a codependent statement.

This giant in the faith, who faced torture and rejection and beatings and jail time and hardships and the burden of fulfilling God’s call on his life had triggers a-plenty. Why am I surprised? In other passages, he freely admits his short-comings, inadequacies, struggles, and fears.

I’ve been taught that Paul’s writings were inspired (not doubting that) but I think most of my life I’ve also been taught that, as a result, everything he states is truth. But was Paul being true to his own heart? Was he really staying away because he loved the Corinthians . . . or was he protecting his own pain? We don’t know of course. We only know his words.

Now . . . maybe it was wisdom to stay away—why go where he’d be rejected? But that never stopped Paul before. Why does it bother me to think that Paul MIGHT be triggered? Or does it bother me that I’m questioning his heart?

All Scripture is inspired, but not all Scripture is instruction. Sometimes it’s history. II Corinthians is a letter—it records what Paul wrote to a specific group of believers in a specific time period. It was instruction to THEM.

Here’s where discernment is necessary. How do we know what was divine doctrine vs. a reflection on local culture? Who gets to decide? Some sects of Christianity wear hats or head coverings. They want to obey the Scriptures in all things. But others believe wearing a head covering was a cultural issue and doesn’t make one spiritual.

What about instructions to Timothy? Qualifications for a pastor preclude women being in leadership (or do they?) Is that God-ordained or cultural? Who gets to decide? If we release all outward show or behavior as a non-issue and listen only to the heart, does that answer the question: it’s not whether male or female is in charge but where the heart is? [NOTE: check out Bill Rudd’s book Should Women Be Pastors or Leaders in the Church? Very insightful!]

I’ve been taught the New Testament as law and less about heart. Rules to follow instead of relationship. Does that make everyone a law unto themselves? Where do we draw the line between biblical mandate and godly principle?

Apparently the Corinthians were living in sin, full of factions, and accusatory of Paul being boastful, having no authority, and being a burden to them. Much of this letter is self-defense on Paul’s part. He ranges from sarcasm to humility.

We (or I) have placed Paul on a high pedestal of sainthood, like he could do no wrong after his conversion. He’s earned our respect for his position, perseverance, and persecution. But I’ve never heard anyone preach about his character flaws. Paul’s defensive self is in full battle gear in this letter. You can feel the anger and hurt from the Corinthians’ false accusations. Does my respect for Paul slip just a little as I read this letter? Or should I excuse and defend him for what he says?

Should Paul have defended his position as an Apostle? Did he have a right to confront the Corinthians about their sin? Of course. But Paul was not perfect. His choleric nature is showing. I’m curious if his letter convicted them or shamed them or made them dig their heels in even deeper?

What would this letter have sounded like if Paul had dealt with his hurt before responding? Would it have had the same impact on the Corinthians? Self-defense can be idolatry. It is substituting self for God. But does God forgive us? Of course! Our sin is under the blood. But there is a better way—let God be our defense. God can use my hurts and my defenses to accomplish His perfect will. But if I have a choice (and I do), I’d choose His defense over mine and healing of the hurt over carrying the wound around in my heart.

So, here’s a question: if someone wrongs me, should I confront them? Do I need to? Or can I deal with my hurt and overlook the wrong done? If I’m at peace, my motive for the confrontation changes. Then it becomes not about protecting my pain but about what is best for the other person.

It’s really hard to be reasonable when one is triggered. So how does it look to others when MY triggers show? Do they offer me grace? I hope so. And, in turn, may I be gracious when I see others triggered. I guess I can cut Paul some slack if he’s a little codependent.

Codependency and the Relationship Pillow

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Journaling, Peace

Journal 2019

I read recently where a therapist placed three pillows on the floor and instructed her two clients to each pick a pillow on which to stand. “Your own pillow represents your soul,” she told them. “It belongs to no one else but you.” Next, she explained the middle pillow. “This one is called Relationship. Each of you may choose to go to the center pillow and discuss what you want out of the relationship, but at no time may you step on another person’s pillow. It is creepy and codependent to try to control somebody else’s soul.”

I started to explain this concept to a client one day when she was struggling to let go of some codependent relationships, but the Lord gave her a different visual. Jesus had been meeting with her in a small cabin (representing her soul) that was decorated exactly as she wanted it with warm cozy colors, a fireplace, and a comfy chair. She had also invited her adult children into her cabin and was not willing to send them out into the cold, even if she herself had to sit on the floor. “I’d do anything for my kids,” she declared.

The problem was that she was running out of food to feed those adults while her own soul was starting to shrivel and starve. Jesus explained to her that her children had their own cabins with plenty of food in them, and she was doing them a disservice by insisting they live with her. “Your cabin is unique to you,” He explained, “and you can’t fully grow into who you were meant to be if you share the space with others.”

“If I let them go,” she wondered, “does that mean I never get to see them again?”

“Oh, no,” Jesus replied. “You can always go visit them on their porch or they can come visit you, but you must not move into each other’s cabins to live.”

As I trace the steps of my own story, I can see how often I allowed others to take up residence in my cabin or on my pillow. Unwise and unhealthy choices stunted both of us. Through my processing, I’ve discovered that the more I keep healthy boundaries, the faster their healing occurs. It’s easy to say I wish I’d known all this at the beginning of my life, but in truth, knowing something and acting on it are two different things. I knew these truths on the left side of my brain, but right-side emotions kept jumping in and taking over. It feels like a long, slow process to get where I am today. Some days I wonder if I’ll ever learn the lessons God is trying to teach me. But as I read back over my journals, I discover that what used to trigger me no longer has power over me.

Living in peace is superior to living in pieces!

So Fix It Already!

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

When you try to fix people, things only get broken. (Eric Swann, Believers’ Chapel)

From my 2011 journal. Two incidents happened this week that held a mirror up to my face, and I didn’t like what I saw. I like to be kind and gentle—but I can also be bossy and take charge and can step on people’s toes, albeit unintentionally. I tend to push my way in where I’m not invited. This week I butted in where I should not have. I stuck my nose in someone else’s business and got kindly and gently rebuffed.

It’s a tricky thing—when to step in and be helpful and when to keep my mouth shut. I like to solve problems and find solutions—if I know the answer. But if the person doesn’t need or want my help, then I can be a hindrance.

black-and-white-close-up-equipment-210881I see a problem. It needs fixing. Then fix it already! What is that inner drive? Is it temperament? Genetics? Wounding? This drive can accomplish good things, or it can be a catalyst for ill. The thing is, when I see it in myself, I try to fix it. When I see it in others, I want to fix it myself or encourage them to fix it. I wonder: Why would anyone want to continue to wallow in the mire when there’s an answer for their pain?

So how does it feel when things aren’t right and in their proper order? My brain likes things orderly. Words should be spelled correctly. Punctuation in its place. Pictures straight. No clutter on the table. Other people are wired to enjoy and thrive in clutter and mess and chaos. Why can’t I be more tolerant of other people’s messes?

The key? I am not the solution to everyone’s problems. Imagine that! We were taught in evangelism class to be aggressive, to push forward, to get people to make decisions and “draw the net.” Unfortunately, those tactics can actually cause more harm than good and can drive people away.

I want to be honey that attracts, not vinegar that sets people’s teeth on edge. I want to learn to be content with people’s messes, but not content with my own. I can only fix ME.

Later. So now that I’m tuned into it, I caught myself once again giving unsolicited advice. It was unappreciated and inappropriate. How do I break myself of this habit?

This second incident occurred when a visitor came to drop off his two girls at my Grade 5 Sunday school class. When I discovered that one of the children actually belonged in Grade 2, I ran after the parent to inform him of his mistake.

“But the sign said her class was here!” His tone was angry and insistent.

My first response? Fix it, of course! I wanted to prove he’d read the sign wrong. I wanted to walk him to the next wing and show him how to find his daughter’s classroom (but I couldn’t leave my 5th graders alone).

This same emotion shoots me back to a memory when I used to work in a dime store where I was assigned, happily, to the fabric department. I was fresh off the mission field and had never worked retail before. I didn’t even know how to count out change in American money. One day a lady came in with a bag of material and dumped it angrily on the cutting table. She claimed it had been measured incorrectly. Well, my grandpa, who had owned a hardware store in Des Moines, Iowa, had taught me that “the customer is always right.” So, without re-measuring or checking it against the receipt, I pulled out the bolt of cloth and proceeded to cut another length as she specified and exchanged it.

That’s the day I learned the rule that when there’s a problem, you’re supposed to defer it to your supervisor. Oops! My boss was kind about it, but I knew I’d messed up.

So . . . what was I feeling when this lady stormed into my section of the store? I felt for her. How annoying to be sold the wrong length of cloth! I’d been there myself—trying to make a garment when I’m short of material. It’s like I could feel her dashing water all over me.  In my visual, I can see her tripping over a log or something and losing her pail of water. I feel bad for her. I’m more concerned that she’s okay than that I got wet. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Can I help you draw more water?” I ask. That’s how I respond. Fix the problem.

Psychologically, I know I’m not capable of taking another person’s emotions or pain for them. I can only feel what I feel. So . . . I mentally climb into this lady’s shoes and feel what it feels like to trip and lose my balance and lose all my water. But as I do that, I begin to laugh—amused at myself for not seeing the log in time.

For some reason that helps. Now in the memory, when the lady walks in with her material, I can say, “Oh how disappointing it must have felt to start a sewing project and become stymied.” And I can look at the Sunday school parent and say, “It must be annoying to find you’re in the wrong spot and you still have to drop off another child before you head to the worship service.” No more emotional response; no need to fix the situation. It is what it is. Just acknowledge it and move on.

Who are you trying to fix so that you can feel better?