Hatred is an intense dislike or ill will.
If I came close to hatred in my life, I suppose it would be towards my mother. Maybe not for the vile acts of sexual perversion she brought upon me, but for her deceiving ways. She is much like the sorcerer and false prophet Paul talked about in Acts.
As a child, she brought me no comfort. Ok – let’s move on. But, she wouldn’t stop there. If only she could just let me leave and live. But, she couldn’t.
In her wickedness she brought her own house tumbling down around her. She fought with my father incessantly and accused him of all wrong doing. Not so. I was there.
If there is honor to be found in life, I believe it is fulfilled with the integrity of truth telling. Standing in vulnerability, not mockery. Weighing in on efforts of kindness towards others and giving back whatever and whenever you can.
Not so with abusers.
They are the victims. They stand in roads of mockery deceiving innocent bystanders, pleading their cause. It disgusts me to watch them. They are quite convincing, for awhile. They never keep people around long enough to see behind their cloaks. Their clocks of deception and denial.
So, is hatred revenge? I think not.
Revenge is the action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for an injury or wrong you suffered.
My mother took her revenge out on me. It was her hatred, not mine, that made her who she is.
These are not easy words to put together but it is the only summation I can see. I don’t hate her. I don’t hate my father.
I want peace. The only way I can find it is by sifting through the past and turning it into good.
I will leave the hatred and revenge to them. I want no part of either.