Growing up with an abusive, narcissistic parent, I did not learn to draw boundaries. I didn’t even know I was allowed to have them. In our family dynamic, I was the “scapegoat” child. It did not matter how far anyone asked me to bend or break for them, I was expected to mold myself into whatever that person needed me to be. Hello, codependency, my old friend.

For years, I didn’t know that’s what was going on, because I didn’t see it. If I ever once opened my mouth to object to a situation or behavior pattern, I was gaslit into believing I was the problem. I would apologize and then strive to be less needy, less in the way.

This created a situation where any love I received was based solely on my performance and how I could serve the one withholding acceptance, validation, and love. I was told I was “too much” in one breath and “not enough” with the next.

No wonder I had a misunderstanding of who God is for such a long time.

If my earthly father was supposed to be a representation of my Father in heaven, I’d imagine you can compute that math pretty quickly and know my faith and belief about salvation were entirely works-based… which didn’t line up with what I read in the Bible about how none of us are good, we can’t be good enough to save ourselves, and how Jesus had to die for us, etc… So I knew I was sinful, that I wasn’t good enough, I knew I needed a Savior, and I believed in Jesus for salvation. But God still scared me.

Somehow I had separated the two in my emotionally abused brain and held two contradictory beliefs at the same time: 1) that Jesus loves me and died for me, and 2) that God the Father doesn’t think I’m good enough, so I must try harder to be a better Christian in order to earn His favor.

The verses in Scripture that said I could approach the throne with boldness were totally lost on me. That made no sense to the reality I had experienced to that point.

As though God were waiting to beat me over the head with a baseball bat, and the only One standing between me and a beating was Jesus. That somehow I had been able to slip through a door left ajar, though uninvited and unwanted, but allowed to stay because the effort to remove me would be more trouble than I was worth. If you believe in the Trinity, then you should be able to clearly see how this led to some wonky theology. What I believed from Sunday school, Bible studies, and personal devotions never lined up with my personal experience, so I lived in two places. I was “double minded… unstable in all my ways.” (James 1:8)

No wonder I had anxiety.

None of my childhood, teenage, and even early adulthood traumas came into clear view until my dad upended our family and left for a life in the Philippines. What I thought had broken me was actually the keys to my prison doors.

Therapy helped me see so many things through new eyes, and I am happy to say that God broke the chains around my heart and mind.

I have always known that I am a sinner saved by grace, but now I also know that I have a Heavenly Father who created me, loves me, sent His Son for me, and saved me. Not because I was good, not because there was ever anything I could do to earn it or be enough, but because Jesus is enough and His blood – the blood of the Lamb – covers me and all my sin.

When you know what Jesus saved you from – sin, shame, a broken heart, wrong patterns of thinking, reactive abuse behaviors, anxiety, depression, anger – you can’t help but share the truth with others. Some of these things were done to me, and some of these things I did to myself. But it’s all sin, and because of my humanity, I’m part of that sin. There’s no amount of humanly goodness I could ever possess that would blot out my role in the depravity of man.

This world is broken, and I was broken right along with it.

But praise be to God for sending His Son, who came to die in my (in our) place, because of His great love for the world. His great love for me. And His great love for you.

We no longer have to be in chains to the ways of this world. Jesus can set us free.

So now I’m learning that I can set these healthy boundaries, as Lysa T. talks about in the attached post. Boundaries don’t control others; they can’t. Boundaries are for me.

It breaks my heart that my willingness alone cannot mend broken relationships, but boundaries allow me the time and space to allow forgiveness to bloom and to not allow bitterness to take root. Boundaries keep my heart soft. Boundaries allow me to gain insight and perspective. Boundaries protect my heart and mind while others still have things to work through. Boundaries keep me out of the mix while God works on others’ hearts. I can wait. My love is not fragile.

“Good fences make good neighbors.” I get that now.