Who’s Fault Is It?

They were arguing—again. “Well if you hadn’t said. . .”

He glared at his wife and yelled, “I wouldn’t have done. . .if you hadn’t said. . .”

She answered, “Why is everything always my fault? You think you’re so perfect. Well, let me tell you, buster.  . .”


Sound familiar? It does to me. I hear this frequently on so called sit-coms, and sometimes from other couples in real life. It’s so easy to focus on the other person’s faults instead of asking ourselves how we contribute to the problem and try to think of solutions.


We do this with God, too. Well, Lord, if you’d take care of this situation for me I’d go to church more often. Lord, if you’d just change my husband, job, boss, etc. I’d serve you more.


As I read scripture, I find many passages that talk about what it takes for God to bless us, and what happens when we refuse to accept His authority in our lives. It is imperative for each of us to accept responsibility for our actions, take the consequences, repent with a sincere heart, seek God’s forgiveness, and ask Him to help us become the people He created us to be.


When David sinned with Bathsheba, then had her husband killed in battle when he found out she was carrying his child, [(Bathsheba was not at fault: she obeyed the king’s command; according to the passage in scripture, it was David who was at fault. He wasn’t where he was should have been—on the battle field with his men.] God sent the prophet Nathan to confront David. There were several consequences  to his sin. The first was that the first child he conceived with Bathsheba died. David repented of his sin as soon as Nathan pointed out his sin. God forgave David immediately, but it did not cancel out the consequences. Romans 3:23 says the wages of sin is death. David paid the price with a broken heart over the loss of that child, but his relationship with God was restored immediately upon his repentance.


God promised in Phil. 4:19 to supply ALL of our NEEDS according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. However, when we are demanding our own way, not following His rules, and walking in deliberate disobedience, all the while waving our ticket to heaven, proclaiming ourselves to be Christians, He often withholds the supply because we are not in a position to receive His blessings. We take them for granted and don’t learn the lesson. If your grown child refuses to get a job, even though he is able to do so, do you keep paying his bills? Do you continue to give him everything he needs, or do you, in great love, compassion, and heartbreak, close the checkbook and tell him it’s time to grow up? If not, how do you expect him to survive after you’re gone? You aren’t going to live forever. How will that child know how to survive if he never has to?

God is our heavenly Father. We cannot ignore him until things are falling apart and then blame Him for allowing it to happen. If we demand our own way, God will allow us to go our own way, but He will withhold His blessings until we accept responsibility for our own actions. We need to accept His authority because He knows best. He sees all of time at once so He knows what’s coming.


Compassion vs. Hatred

I can’t get this news story out of my mind. A little girl, three years old, was left by her mother with a male friend. First the mother told reporters she had left the child with the friend for a month but would visit once a week. The mother’s family had been told the little girl and her mother were staying with friends in another city, and that they were fine. We don’t know where the mom really was.

Police found the child sitting in a large trash bag, feet, hands and mouth duct taped “because she was too noisy.” She was covered in feces.

There were other details reported too horrific to print. Neighbors of the man who was supposed to be taking care of the little girl were shocked. They said things like, “That’s a shame.” “That’s too bad.” “A child should never have to go through something like that.” To me, those responses sound cold, just an automatic, expected response.

I must admit, my first response was not at all Christ-like. I ranted and raged against the evil mother who cared so little for her child’s welfare. I wanted to punch the guy that was supposed to be taking care of her.

The reporter was talking to a professional counselor, asking how anyone could be so evil to a child. The reporter’s answer put me back on the right way of thinking. The counselor said many times, through counseling, people like this can change. They usually treat children this way because it is how they have been treated. It is their sense of normal. When they receive counseling and realize that this is not normal, nor is it right, they realize they didn’t like being treated that way when they were children, and don’t want to continue the pattern.

I read a poster many years ago that said, “Children learn what they live.” It is true. I don’t think any parent wants to be abusive. When you are raised with anger and bitterness, it becomes a part of you. If you don’t know you can change, you won’t. Unless someone shows you how to be a better parent, you are doomed to repeat what you’ve grown up with.

I am thankful that Jesus saved my soul, and through His love and the teaching and preaching of His word, I learned not to be an abusive parent. These people who mistreated this little girl, and all who mistreat their children, need the Lord’s help to change the pattern. They need help, guidance, compassion, and forgiveness.

My Testimony Part 3

One thing I forgot to mention in Part 2 is that I never received any counseling for my temper/anger issues. I didn’t go to any anger management classes or read any books on the subject. I prayed and God answered.

Within the first year of our tour in Germany, my husband stopped going to Bible study; I continued. My mind was like a sponge, soaking up all it could. The last book study in my afternoon ladies’ group was titled, Lord, Change Me by Evelyn Christenson. We were due to return to the U.S. shortly thereafter. The lessons contained in that book really didn’t sink in at the time. It was a good thing I had my own copy of the book.

It was late at night when we left our on-base apartment, taking the shuttle bus from there to the military airport. We were all exhausted. My husband deposited the kids and me at the hotel’s restaurant while he got the luggage checked in and made sure the flight was arranged.

I sat our two-year-old daughter in a booth, told her I’d be back with her supper and asked her not to go to sleep. It was so cute. She looked at me with her big blue eyes and said, “I’m not slee-py” split up like that as her little head wobbled. Our son and I went through the cafeteria-style line and filled our trays. When we got back to the booth my little girl lay in the seat—fast asleep.

My husband returned, ate a hamburger and hustled us off to the DC-8 for our flight home. We would live with his parents until we had a place of our own. As we flew over Scotland the pilot came over the intercom and instructed everyone to look out the portside windows so we could see the lights of Edinburgh. What a sight it was! Of course, the kids were asleep.

When we arrived in the U.S. my husband quickly found a job but still wasn’t speaking to me very much. His older sister had found her Mr. Right and was due to get married so preparations were underway. She lived in another state. The weekend we spent there was one of the most difficult of my life. If I walked into a room, he left it. He wasn’t speaking to me any more than he absolutely had to. His sister came to me and said, “He’s my brother, and I love him, but if I were you, I’d leave him.” I went to the church that night by myself, and spent many hours weeping at the altar. When I said, ” ‘Til death do us part” when we got married, I meant it.

We began looking for places to live. Everyone in his family had a house except us and we were not in a position to afford one right then. We decided on a mobile home. We looked at floor plans and manufacturers. He said I could choose three features that were important to me. I chose a bay window, built-in bookshelves, and a washer and dryer.

Our mobile home was beautiful. It was a 14×70 rose and white color on the outside. It had buffet cabinet in the kitchen with the bay window above it. The built-in bookshelves were also very nice: cabinet underneath with three glass shelves above. We also had a wood-burning fireplace. The furniture was a country motif—wood frame couch and chair with stuffed cushions that were vinyl on the back and ends, and tweed in the middle. They were just the right size for full size sheets to fit around on cold winter nights and lay in front of the fireplace. There were three bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms.

One night while we were getting settled in, we were all tired from unpacking. My mother was there for a visit to help out. My husband was going to go out and get hamburgers and French fries for us. He asked the kids if they wanted fries and they said no. Our finances were limited so I just asked for a hamburger and small fries. When he got back the fries smelled so good the kids changed their minds and asked if they could have some of mine. I hate to admit it, but I refused them saying if they had wanted them they should have asked. It was the last straw.

My husband looked at me, and for the first time ever, yelled at me. “I don’t love you anymore. I would have gone out and gotten some more fries for the kids. I am so sick of your nagging and complaining. If you choose to stay here you’ll have a roof over your head and a place to sleep. Don’t expect anything more from me. If you choose to go, you’re not getting the kids. I won’t have them raised by your constant nagging and complaining. Frankly, I don’t care if you choose to stay or not.” Then he stalked away.

What had just happened? When had he stopped loving me? Why hadn’t I noticed? What had I done to cause him to stop loving me? Could I fix it? No. Only God could do that. One thing I did know—I would continue to meet his physical needs. I still loved him and I was not going to give him any reason to stray.

I went to our room, weeping as I got on my knees and cried to God. I knew my husband didn’t wake up one morning and decide he didn’t want to love me anymore. Something had to have killed it. What had I done? I asked God to show me what I had done to kill my marriage. If you don’t want to know, don’t ask the question, because God will show you.

The next day I dove into that book, Lord, Change Me. I read scripture along with it. I looked up every scripture mentioned. I wrote Bible verses on index cards and taped them on the kitchen cabinets where I would be constantly reminded of what I was supposed to. I asked God to make me the wife my husband needed me to be.

In the meantime, while I was doing that, and a few days after the blow up, I asked the pastor of a church I had started attending to come over. I thought maybe he could counsel us. He and a deacon sat at the kitchen table with my husband and I. As I related what had happened, I was crying. The pastor (or maybe it was the deacon) looked at me and said, “Well, maybe if you got your nose fixed so it didn’t run, maybe that would solve the problem.” Needless to say, I didn’t go back to that church. My husband and I laugh about that now.

One day I asked him if he would go to counseling with me. He said if I thought I needed a counselor I could go, but he didn’t have a problem. I found a Christian counselor who was willing to work with our finances. (Dave Peterson, if you’re reading this, there are not enough ways to say thanks. We’re still together.) I went. He gave me a detailed personality test first. The next appointment was to go over the test so he could explain how my personality affected my behavior and attitudes. He then told me to purchase a book by Drs. Frank Minirth and Paul Meier titled Happiness is a Choice.

As I read these two books plus my Bible, I learned a lot about what I had done wrong. It also showed me what I could do right. I asked God to help me be a better housekeeper so that our home would be neat every day when my husband walked through the door. I began to take more care in my appearance so I looked nice when he got home. I made a list of all of the things that irritated me, and another list of all of the things I appreciated about him. I placed the first list under a vase over the mantle and told the Lord that was His to take care of. Those things were beyond my ability to change. I was not to touch that list until my marriage was healed (except for picking it up to dust under it). The second list was a matter of daily prayer.

I studied Proverbs 31:10ff. That was the kind of wife I wanted to be. I gave my tongue to the Lord and asked Him to remove every critical thought or complaint from my mind and heart (out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks—Matt. 12:34).

I treated my husband as if he was the most important person in the world. I gave him all the love I had, expecting, asking for nothing in return. He was suspicious for a long time, thinking I was trying to manipulate him. It actually took about two to three years for him to really love me again.

God taught me how to be a good wife and mother. God put my marriage back together again. Everything I did, every change that occurred in me, came about because of God’s tools (counseling, Bible, books, and prayer) to heal the rift. My husband had given up, but God had not, and He gave me the will to persevere. Satan tried to destroy my family. God gave me the will to fight for it. Romans 8:37—”Nay, in all these things, we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.”

©copyright April 13, 2015 by author Aleta Kay. All rights reserved.