A lot of the young people who have come out of the Institute in Basic Life Principles (IBLP) and Advanced Training Institute (ATI) teachings have  run wildly in any direction that would get them away. Away from the pain, the abuse, the guilt, the self-hatred, the despair — and all the other negative emotions that they labored under while enslaved to the teachings promulgated by Bill Gothard. When I talk to them about the biggest disappointments, the hardest hurts to let go of, they invariably bring up their parents as one of the top five.

Specifically, and I think most revealingly, it’s often their moms that they blame most. And, generally speaking, there are two types of moms who get blamed: moms who were abusive and moms who were passive in the face of abuse. It is the latter group, the passive moms, that I want to talk about.

The questions these young adults (and sometimes the not so young — the questions linger well into maturity) ask include variations of “Why did she let my dad treat her so badly?” “Why didn’t she leave?” “Why didn’t she fight back?” “Didn’t she care?”

If you are one of those young people, I want to offer you some insight into the passive wife and mother. Because I was that wife. For four years. I can’t heal your pain. But I hope I can help you see into your mother’s heart and soul just a little.

I don’t think I can convey to you the depth of pain and fear that passive mothers live under. Especially mothers who want to be godly women. Good women. Remember that society and the church have taught women for several hundred years that God wants them to shut up and let God deal with errant husbands. That is a lot of pressure to go against when things go terribly wrong with the man who won your heart.

No (modern) woman goes into a marriage thinking, “This guy is a brute and a narcissist and a jerk, and I’m just going to have to cope the best I can because there is no way out.” No! A woman goes into a marriage thinking that she has gotten the best guy on the planet. She hears him promise to “love, honor, cherish, and protect” her, and in her mind she has visions of sword-battles and Indiana Jones and Han Solo with a blaster. No bad thing will dare come at her. She is SAFE.

Only… she isn’t. The one who held her hands and looked into her eyes and said those precious words turned out to be the enemy. And she has to sleep with him. It doesn’t happen overnight. It may be weeks. Or months. But it happens and she is bewildered. King Arthur has just turned into Mordred. She married Han Solo, but somehow she’s now climbing into bed with Darth Vader. She was blissfully betrothed to Aragorn Elessar, but she is now living with Grima Wormtongue… or Gollum.

If she turns to the church for help, she is told that her place is in the home, being submissive to her husband’s authority. She should not carry “bad reports” to those outside the family. If he’s treating her badly, she should pray and let God deal with him. It’s not her place to correct The Man. That’s God’s job. And that may feel okay for a while. But if the abuse is bad, if it goes on for years, if it gets worse… then it doesn’t feel okay. Then it feels like you’re missing something, somewhere… but what?

If she turns to the world, to the secular community, for help, she’s told either to just divorce him and move on with her life, or to fight back. Tit for tat. Eye for eye. Is he committing adultery? Take revenge. As the song says, “I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4-wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights; slashed a hole in all 4 tires — Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.” The world’s way doesn’t feel right to a Christian woman, either.

So neither the Christian solution nor the secular solution feels right, and the Christian woman has no training in how to fight with a Man anyway. Because she isn’t supposed to fight. She’s supposed to submit.

So she digs in and prays. Prays and weeps until her eyes are gritty and dry and there are no more tears. Until her prayers ricochet off the ceiling and the voices in her head tell her that there’s no use, God isn’t listening. God has forsaken her.

Her friends are alienated by the pain that radiates from her in palpable waves. They can’t understand the despair and the agony she’s in. They try to tell her that there must be some hidden sin she hasn’t dealt with. Some independence of spirit that she hasn’t slain. She slays herself again and again until there is nothing left of her. She becomes a walking, breathing shell.

She can’t help her children because she cannot help herself. She is powerless. She’s so deep in despair that, if she tries to look up, all she sees is more darkness. She may even be hard on the kids because, when they make mistakes, the Man makes her life even more miserable.

If she’s a strong woman (what the fundamentalist Christians call a woman with an “independent spirit,” which is a bad thing and is probably why she’s having all this trouble), there will be an ember that he cannot quench, and she — or someone outside it all — may be able to fan it into enough flame to give her the courage and desperation to finally leave. But it’s like ripping herself in two. CS Lewis says divorce is like an amputation. But it’s really more like vivisection.

And then she has to rebuild. While trying to make some kind of life for her children, she has to rebuild herself. Her dreams are gone. Her being has been violated and destroyed. Her self has been murdered. She is nothing. But she has to be everything to the children. With no brick, no mortar, not even mud and straw, she must build them a home and a family and a life.

Can you wonder, then, that this prospect terrifies even the strongest of women? That even the most courageous quails? That the abused woman hangs on, holds back, resists that final step of leaving for as long as she can? That she messes it up, makes mistakes, makes the mess even bigger?

I beg you, in the name of all wounded, abused mothers everywhere, show us pity! The battle is fierce, and some of us are not strong enough or trained enough to fight it. Especially when fighting it means fighting everyone we know. Imagine fighting a battle with no armor, no weapons, no backup, no battle-skills, no training. Against dragons and orcs and evil creeping things. And instead of helping or cheering you on, your family and friends are standing around shouting that you are doing it wrong, and that you are doomed to fail. How long could you fight? How well? How long before you crawled to a hole, covered your head, and begged to die?

If you had a passive mother, I am sorry. So, so sorry. I know that wound, that betrayal, is doubly horrible because your mother is supposed to protect you. But try, oh please, try to have compassion for her. Try to see her through other eyes. Try to see her as just as wounded, bewildered, and frightened as you. Try to forgive her. She couldn’t protect anyone. And no one was protecting her.

If you are a passive mother, I am sorry. I weep with you, my sister. Know that you are not alone. That someone else has been there. That there are countless others going through exactly what you are going through. There is a God who also knows. And He does hear your prayers. He is listening. Take courage, my sister. Take heart. You do not have to stand helplessly by while a Man destroys you and your children. That was never God’s plan. There are those who will help you, support you, nurture you, love you. Reach out for help. Protect your children. Seek protection for yourself. If your church and family won’t provide it, seek help from friends and your community.

And through it all, pray. Pray that God would show you His real will, and that He would give you the courage to act according to it. That He would point the way so clearly that you would have no fear of missing it. That He would make it so obvious that you would suffer no doubts. Above all, remember that He, too, knows the pain of betrayal and loss. He will help you bear it, if you let Him.