God Told Me To Punish You

I have refined you in the furnace of affliction. Isa. 48:10

“God told me to punish you for all the bad things you do.”

His face was so red I wished I was dead. Then he called our son a “retard” then twisted his arm.

“Stop loving your Mommy. You can only love me.
See those purple bruises on her arm, she does that to herself when you’re not around.
Let’s leave her alone to moan and groan and pray.
She rather pray to her stupid God than play with you.
Hey, that deserves another beating, wouldn’t you say?”

“And while we’re gone today, Mommy, read this Christian tract.
That Saint Paul, he knew where it was at.
‘Wives submit to your husbands.’ ‘A husband’s wrath is the chastisement of the Lord.’
It says it right here. Read it yourself, my darling dear.”

Love never fails. 1 Cor. 13:8

“Accept your cross with grace. Fall upon your face.
Ask God to forgive you,” the preacher said.
“Then get on your knees and beg your husband to forgive you too.
“That’s what you should do if you want to him to act better towards you.”
Others said the same thing too.

But counting my sins didn’t help me win.
Yet I just kept counting my sins some more and kept on falling to the floor,
Begging Christ to rid me of my demons so I could be a good Christian wife.

The stories – too many to tell.
Like putting the baby in the tub, singing rub-a-dub-dub,
Letting the water run high, then locking the door.

“He’s only three. If you have to hurt someone. Hurt me!”
“Shut up, you Christian slut.
Do as I say or you’ll make me drown the child today.
Sign those papers on the kitchen table.
That way I’ll be able to have all our loot when you finally fly the coop. “

As my son began to cry, I looked up to the sky hoping an angel might fly by.

“Hurry up, sign those papers, or I’ll drown the kid and tell the cops you did it.
And when they come to take you,
I’ll tell them to rape you ‘till your vagina turns into blood.
I’ll be there to watch.

“God’s punishment my dear, but have no fear. Then you’ll be pure.
‘Rejoice in suffering.’ ‘Blessed are the weak.’
Isn’t that what they teach in that Bible of yours,
Which, by the way, I’ve thrown away.”

Yet I stayed, hoping if I prayed in just the right way he’d change.
But he only got worse.

But I am not the person for a job like that, Moses exclaimed.
Then God told him. Fear not, I will certainly be with you. Exod. 3: 11-12

“My daughter, it’s time to flee. Staying in this marriage brings no honor to me.”

“But, God, I’m too weak. Sometimes I can barely move or think.
I have no money and no one to turn to.”

“I know you’re weak,” said He. “Just follow me. Follow me.”

Into the car I ran, son in hand, with no idea where to go.
Friends from church with promises galore now shut their doors.
“Who knows what he might he do if he knew we were helping you?”

“Where are we going, Mommy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then let’s go home, Mama. I’m getting cold.”

For a minute, I considered the idea. “No. God wants your mommy to be free.”

I put my foot on the gas pedal and headed for the highway.