July 13, 2010: A Time To Rant

During the French Revolution many nobles went to the guillotine with their dignity intact, refusing to give roiling mobs the satisfaction of hearing them beg for mercy or scream in fear. Stoic aristocrats kept their cool as they lost their heads.

Not Madame du Barry. When dragged to her execution on December 8, 1793, she kicked and screamed and begged onlookers to rescue her. She collapsed repeatedly and cried out, "You are going to hurt me! Why?!" On the scaffold she struggled with her executioners, who rushed their work because her shrieks had sucked all the merriment out of the crowd. Her last words were, "One moment more, Mr. Executioner, I beg you!" She was no fun to kill.

Artist Louise Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, who painted du Barry's portrait, later wrote "she was the only woman, among all who perished in those dreadful days, unable to face the scaffold with fortitude...This has always confirmed my belief that if the victims of that period of execrable memory had not had the noble pride of dying with fortitude the Terror would have ceased long before it did."

If Vigée-Lebrun was right, du Barry's undignified ranting probably saved the lives of some aristocrats who were next in line to die. Screams and shrieks stimulate the sadist but not the ordinary person who has been caught up in mob cruelty. He may actually have a conscience that the victim's expressed outrage will arouse. ("Hmm. This woman seems really upset. Maybe we're doing something wrong here?")

I thought of du Barry when reading a Facebook friend's outburst against an evil ex-husband. In the comment section I chimed in with other supporters and commended her fighting spirit. In Christian circles I often see that spouses of demon scum are advised to "forgive unconditionally" and "not give in to bitterness" and "show yourself to be strong." I do not think this kind of response is always biblical or wise. There is a time to rant. A stoic refusal to complain can make you look noble, but it can also provide cover for bad men to go on messing up people's lives. For the sake of other victims - if not for yourself - it is good to stuff your pride and shriek out loud.

King David sure didn't "take it like a man" when victimized by treacherous people. "If only you would slay the wicked, O God!" he cried. "Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!" (Psalm 139:19). St. Paul didn't let Alexander's betrayal roll off his forgiving back without slinging this word of judgment: "Alexander the metalworker did me a great deal of harm. The Lord will repay him for what he has done" (2 Timothy 4:14). St. John ranted about a church-wrecker: "Diotrephes, who loves to be first, will have nothing to do with us...I will call attention to what he is doing, gossiping maliciously about us" (3 John 9-10). And, somewhat surprisingly, even the departed saints are not envisioned as having "gotten over" all the injustices done to them on earth. They plead, "How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?" (Revelation 6:10).

I don't recommend living in a constant state of anger and resentment over wrongs suffered. That would be a wretched way to waste your life, and it would hide you from joy. What sane person would want to be your friend if you were chronically bitter, and who would be inspired by your example if you simply become the hourly denouncer of fiends and villains who made you miserable?

There is a difference, though, between "refusing to dwell on it" and "refusing to express it at all." The writer of Ecclesiastes said that there is a time for everything - "a time to be silent and a time to speak" (3:7) - and I have learned that there is certainly a right moment to raise bloody hell about bad people and the awful things they have done to us and our loved ones.

I can personalize this. When my first wife rejected her Christian faith and left to go pursue lesbian relationships, I wanted to be the best single dad I knew how to be. One thing I didn't want to do was convey to my sons an attitude of "Well, that's all right. Things go that way sometimes. I'll be fine. I'm not angry or bitter. This will work out for the best." I think that kind of noble fortitude just sends more marriages to the guillotine! I don't want my sons to grow up thinking, "If someday I lie, scheme, renounce my vows, dump my wife and pursue other lovers, my ex will be fine. After all, Dad was cool with it." No he wasn't. My sons saw my moral outrage and despair. I didn't scream like Madame du Barry, but I certainly grieved like David when he lost Absalom (2 Samuel 19:4). May the image of my sorrow be ingrained in their minds should they ever be tempted to betray their wives. May they think, "How could I ever do that to someone?"

May God give you wisdom to know when, and how, and how long, to rant about the abuse you have suffered at the hands of evil men. (Or evil women.)