“Kacie, I want you to know that I’m not okay. I’m so upset right now. Where is he? I want you to show me where his store is at so that I can punch him in the face.”
I stood there absolutely dumbfounded. Numb. Unable to move because I didn’t understand why my guy teammate was standing there, jaw clenched and slightly shaking from anger.
Shame swept over my whole body, and my gaze quickly found itself to the ground. Soul downcast, I intently avoided any sort of eye contact with my team. I think what humiliated me the most was that I wasn’t mad. Why wasn’t I shaking with fury too? Why was I able to tell the story with a steady voice, without cringing?
“You did this to yourself, Kacie.”
“You are so naïve and stupid, of course you’d find yourself in one of these situations.”
“You asked for it, actually you almost begged for it.”
Early that day, our leader released us to go explore the quaintness that Antigua has to offer. Desperate for some alone time and in need of the Father’s love, I hit the streets and planted myself at a local coffee shop. A mocha latte later, a much more energized version of me packed up and began to browse the colorful Guatemalan merchandise in the store across the street.
“¿Disculpe, senorita. Puedes ayudarme?” (Excuse me, Miss. Will you help me?)
The store owner asked me to try on a pair of pants so that he could figure out the measurements of the girl next door who was a similar size as me.
The next thing I know, I’m in a small musky bathroom that smells of stale water and rust. Ignoring the deep down sense in my spirit to hand back the pants and get the HECK out of there, I slowly changed from my jeans to a brightly colored pair of Guatemalan pants. I walked out to meet him in the back of the store.
Through my broken Spanish, I tried hard to decipher his requests. He worked quickly, measuring the length of my legs and width of my waste. It didn’t make sense why, but the uneasiness of the situation began to well up in my throat.
The words “No”, “Stop”, and “Don’t” couldn’t seem to find their way out of my mouth. It’s like they were trapped, pinching my throat, creating a huge lump that I was unable to swallow.
“Just say it, Kacie. Tell him “No”. Hand back the pants and walk away.”
Something deep inside made me recoil. I felt backed into a corner. I looked around for an escape, but I couldn’t find one. Helpless and alone, I succumbed to the swiftness of his fingers as his measuring tape landed in places where no one had permission to go.
I left the store feeling dirty and icky. More than anything I was confused about how I ended up in a situation like that. Instead of standing tall, I had collapsed into the corner that he had created.
———————
Honestly, I don’t look back at this situation with frustration asking God why. “Why did you abandon me and allow me to walk out of your safety and into the arms of the danger?” Or even “Why did I feel so alone; where were you?”
I’m mad at myself.
I’m frustrated that I froze and I couldn’t muster up the courage to stop that man from doing whatever he wanted.
Even though I sensed how “off” the situation was, I never opened my mouth to stand against the injustice that he was imposing on me. He took advantage of my hesitancy to confront and my apprehension to cause any awkward moments.
I felt like I couldn’t express my emotions because He wouldn’t receive them well.
Even worse, I felt the need to apologize for feeling anxious and uncomfortable.
Where did I get the idea that his feelings took presidency over mine?
Why did I believe that if I did speak up, his reaction was my responsibility?
Somewhere along the way I bought the lie that confrontation is not an act of love; that if caused any sort of offense it’s my fault and I’m in the wrong. I believed that conflict lacks grace and I was not seeing the world through a lens of love.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
This lie about confrontation has left me powerless, giving control over to those who take and abuse without feeling any ounce of remorse.
I heard the Father’s voice that day. He told me to stand strong, look that man in the eye and tell him “No”, maybe even a “Hell no!”
I look back at this incident and I see His provision.
All along, He had provided me with a way out.
He gave me a voice and the ability to say “No”.
He gave me the permission to confront and to righteously offend.
He gave me permission to protect what is His; Myself.
The cross confronts and offends every single day.
Christ is either the fragrance of life or the stench of death (2 Corinthians 2:16). He is either a pleasing aroma or He can be extremely offensive to those who do not receive Him. The Spirit is in constant opposition with the flesh, warring for the soul’s affections.
Christ takes His seat at the right hand of the Father.
Eyes ablaze like flames of fire; He stands to confront the wicked and justify the righteous.
He is taking His kingdom by force….
And He has never once apologized.
