I wonder how different my life would be today if I had paid more attention in high school English Literature class. Back then, the only author to capture my imagination and heart was Jack London. I remember being mesmerized by his short story To Build a Fire. (A few years ago, I finished reading everything he published.)
The only other literature I remember from that time was William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. I have always been a slow reader. Add to that my limited vocabulary then and the strangeness of Old English, and I felt lost in a strange forest. My left and right brains seemed to meld into a single blob and slip into semi-lockdown. Either way, the words were beyond my comprehension. Mrs. Jones, my English Literature teacher, was patient with me. I think she and Mrs. Weaver, the chemistry teacher, “allowed” me to graduate.
When I was in grad school, and Mrs. Jones had retired, I went by her house to thank her. That was a good day in my memory.
Of all the words in the play Julius Caesar, I remember only ten words. Three of those were “Et tu, Brutè?” That phrase of Caesar conveying his bewildered pain at Brutus’ participation in the stabbing is etched in the core knowledge of our society. The picture is of Caesar’s inability to grasp that his closest friend was betraying him.
Have you ever been betrayed by a close friend? It may not be that they participated in the assassination of your contentment. It may be that the betrayal was your friend’s half-hearted support or defense, or worse, their silence hidden in the noise of a controversy.
It may have happened to you in the politics of your workplace, the sanctity of marriage vows, or the bond of family. It may not have happened to you; in fact, you may have been the betrayer.
At the center of any betrayal is one person’s decision that the betrayer’s well-being matters more than the one being betrayed. “I would rather you hurt than me.” Or, “I am more important than you are.” Or, “I choose me over you.”
However the betrayal occurs, there is always the felt shame of rejection by people you were not in the least bit angry at, with whom you shared a meaningful bond. Caesar did not survive Brutus’ betrayal. Brutus did have to deal with his participation. Jan and I both have felt the acidic rain of betrayal fall on our lives. On the other hand, I have no memory of betraying anyone. That doesn’t mean I have never betrayed anyone. It means that I have been, to this point, successful in hiding my dastardly deeds deep in my moral-dirty-clothes hamper.
There is no denying that betrayal leaves scars on our psyche. In addition, nothing destroys the soul more slowly or methodically than the treachery of betrayal, for both the betrayed and the betrayer.
God’s desire is to have a people, His children, gathered around Him. In fact, that is one way to describe the word “Gospel.” It is the Father’s constant reach for His children who betrayed Him. The “Good News” is that our Creator is anxious to get His Creation back. At the top of His list is reuniting with His created “image.” (Genesis 1) And that is what redemption is all about. To redeem is to “re–deem,” to remove the old label and assign a new designation. That is, God has made a way for us to relabel our person from betrayer to “adopted.” (Ephesians 1)
One of the challenges of living that Divine adoption life is that some of our unadopted associates feel like we have betrayed them. It is how the old world works. There is a strong bond between betrayers. They have a common theme for moving through life: me first. Before we were redeemed, relabeled, they knew what to expect from us. But the redeemed person receives a new way of evaluating life. Therefore, they have new behavior patterns. We were predictable; now we are, to them, unpredictable or betrayers. They feel uncomfortable with us, and we feel uncomfortable with them.
We call it freedom; they call it betrayal.
I have many questions about how some relationships in my past have lost a lot of the “relating.” When the memory of a particular person appears through my defensive haze, piercing my “peacefully happy” bubble. How do I relate to that person I betrayed? “How do I deal with the people who have betrayed me? Is it even necessary for me to try?
I have not discovered an easy answer or a suggested series of steps for healing. However, I have discovered that recovery is more of a process than an event. I think the answer lies with our focus. There is far more peace in processing life’s hurts from the viewpoint of being adopted than from the pain of having been betrayed. Because I have been adopted into the family of God, there is no longer a need for retribution, revenge, or loathing. Though my lingering old way of thinking still looks for it.
Because we have been redeemed by God, we have moved from “the valley of death” into a residence that is, in the words of Genesis 1, “good, very good.” When I plant the seeds of my emotions in the soil of the Garden, good seeds grow, bad seeds rot and become nutrients for good seeds.
How that happens is a great, wondrous miracle. How much joy have we missed in our lives by living as perpetual pallbearers for our dismal feelings of rejection?
It’s our choice to live in the stagnant pool of old life hurts or in the effervescent pool of the new. We can choose to exhale the cry, “Et tu, Brutè” or “Doxa ston Theó.” (Glory to God)
Psalm 55:19
“God will listen. The one who has sat enthroned from the beginning will deal with them.” (God’s Word)
Photo – That’s me in the middle of the greatest gang of grands in the universe this past summer. (I’m the one with no hair.)
