Does God always answer our prayers? It is a question that begs an answer. How can it be that the abused who seeks respite from his or her condition through prayer for years receives no relief?

Is it that God is not listening, does not care, or wishes for the abused to remain in their terrible condition? Or maybe none of those is correct. Maybe He is answering our prayers, but not the way we expect.

In the midst of ongoing heartache, for many years the consistent, intentional prayer of my heart was that God would open the eyes of my abusive spouse and restore our relationship to wholeness. Now the Word says that if I “have the faith of a mustard seed,” the mountain will be moved. So I prayed for more faith. And because Paul wrote that, “love never fails,” I prayed that God would make me more loving. I also believed that my prayer would eventually win the day because, “the fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.” And in His miraculous name, I anticipated the ultimate, favorable answer to the singular cry of my heart: “Lord, save our marriage.”

“Please,” the man said, “if you wouldn’t mind,”

And at first I believed he was thoughtful and kind

He pondered a moment, then pointed to where

A rustic old bench sat under the stair

“There are others whose dress is better selected

Whose hair and accoutrements are more keenly collected

But you may observe and keep watch from that place

A distance apart from the revelers’ gaze”

Although his words pierced as a sword through my soul

I timidly moved to my place in the hole

Knowing I never would join in the fray

And the bench became my companion that day

My ragged appearance could not match the rest

Yet my heart beat the same inside of my chest

As I stroked the rough planks of the bench where I waited

My dream of acceptance would not this day be sated

Countless long hours the bench was my friend

Neither shame nor my loneliness came to an end

For my eyes held no beauty, my gait showed no grace

The bench’s cruel judgment was etched on my face

‘Til one day a man came and looked into my eyes

Smiled, took my hand in His, to my surprise

He led me so tenderly, whispered, “There’s more,”

And I feared He might ask me to sit on the floor

I could not still my heart from its penitent race

As He tenderly pulled back the hair from my face

“You are lovely,” He said. “It is so clear to me,

“You are patient and gentle and kind as could be.”

I gasped in His presence, it was clear He had seen

Every tear I had wept, every anguishing dream

And He smiled and He pointed to the front of the hall

Before all of the guests who had come to His ball

“You will never again sit away from the throng

On that horrid old bench where you do not belong

For you are my princess, honored and blessed

From now ‘til forever you’ll be properly dressed

“You have not been forgotten, you have not been alone

I have seen you seated back there from My throne

Receive all I have for you, my darling, my prize

Today I will relish the light in your eyes”

How tragic to see, if I only had known

The bench was a stop on my way to His throne

I’d have held my head high, been proud of my name

For the bench and my beauty were never the same

 © By Cindy Burrell

Abusers are extremely predictable. In my experience as a survivor and now through encounters with other abuse victims and survivors, it is apparent that the abuser’s response to separation from his or her enabler-victim taps into a collection of tactics that is shockingly consistent. So, in the event that you have separated or are considering leaving an abusive relationship, it might be helpful to get a small taste of some of the things you can expect, together with a few recommendations on how to stay grounded. Of course, these are generalities. It is impossible to predict what every abuser will do, but the pattern is often very much the same.

Upon separating from an abuser, you can expect him to:

Can the abuser change? The short answer: Yes.

Anyone can change. It’s a matter of desire, will and motive. Healthy people are generally desirous of change when they genuinely care about how their actions affect others and will accept an opportunity to contribute to their relationships in a meaningful way.

Does the abuser really want to change? The short answer: No.

Abusers don’t care if you’re happy; they care if they’re happy. Their control is far more important than your happiness. Therefore, on the occasion where his enabler-victim identifies an area of dissatisfaction or conflict in the relationship, the abuser will quickly attempt to squelch any discontent through verbal jeopardizing, diminishment or yelling.

In our household, it is affectionately referred to as “bad juju.” I suppose that acknowledging temporary insanity with a dose of humor is half the battle. But when our lives are humming along at a fairly even keel, it is not at all humorous when one of us suddenly stumbles into it. The bad juju.

For us, bad juju is what we call an old wound that we thought was healed but isn’t – somewhat akin to post traumatic stress. An otherwise innocent situation can unexpectedly propel us back to a disturbing memory, registering an immediate, fear-based reaction – an emotional nosedive.

One such unfortunate ambush occurred when I was dating my husband, Doug. We were living about 300 miles apart at the time, and we had spent many wonderful hours on the phone getting acquainted over the previous several weeks. So he was aware of my dark history – my 20-year marriage to an abusive man. I felt quite confident that the combination of many months of counseling – together with the support of family and friends – had led me far along my path to recovery. I was naïve, having not the slightest suspicion that the bad juju was close at hand but hidden from view – an emotional land mine.