In Response ...

You wrote, I respond:

Do you want all things? I'd just like some peace and happiness for my daughter, and to personally not be in pain.

No, I don't think I want all things, or everything, or even a lot of things. I think I want things similiar to you: some peace for my troubled mind; some sense of assurance I'm in God's grace; and to feel safe being a gentle person.

You wrote also:

What's it like to have to walk on eggshells and be on your best behaviour around a parent at all times, to approach everything as a political negotiation depending on the mood of the parent? To always have to be very polite and to live with emotional bullying?

That might have been the most painful aspect of my childhood -- the sense that I had to tread lightly at all times for fear that some action (or inaction) might cause a horrible emotional reaction. It was like a pall on the entire family structure.

The difference between my upbringing and the situation your daughter struggles with is that I had no present father, she does. You must never underestimate the value of you "being there" -- a safe harbour in an otherwise turbulent sea. Extending that metaphor, I had no place to put in to weather the storm. So I retreated into myself. And I built protective walls. Lots of them.

You speak of me "turning out okay." I suppose that's true, to some degree. I know in my heart I have no right to have had things turn out as well as they have, save for the divine guidance offered from above. That's not false piety speaking ... I honestly do feel that "there but by the grace of God go I."

You're walking a tough line -- being the strong, responsible parent while not forcing your daugher to choose between the two of you. Just be there ... drop all notions of trying to force some desired outcome and just be there. Our Lord will use you to achieve what he knows is best.

Again, you wrote:

On the sinning stuff from Romans 7 to 8, what are the worse sins or are all sins equally as bad?

That's a tricky question. Doctrinally, all sins are sins. Lately, I've come to view the magnitude of sins as a function of how much separation it forces between me and God. I suppose some might argue that drinking vodka is a sin, though personally I don't see that. It causes no particular sense of conviction in my heart, and I don't feel a sense of shame in approaching God after had a drink. Other things, though ... awful feelings of shame and guilt and wanting to keep distant. Those are sins in my life.

But even that's a tricky answer. A "sense of conviction" in my heart comes from the Holy Spirit, and the Bible is pretty clear that habitual sin will result in our hearts being "hardened," with the Spirit withdrawing a sense of conviction. So relying only on what I "feel" is a sin is probably not a good barometer. But it's the best barometer I have right now. It's helping me focus on the big things, which allows me to walk a step or two closer to God, which then helps me to focus on the more inward problems.

If that makes any sense. I'm not sure it does to me. That's my best shot at an answer.

Getting from Romans 7 to Romans 8 in my heart is a journey; a tough one. John Bunyan in "Pilgrim's Progress" devoted a considerable portion of his book to the time period between Christian's entering through the gate (accepting Christ) and reaching the place where the burden was lifted (truly letting go and trusting Christ). I'm thankful the Lord has made me aware that there is a journey to be made, even after the "I believe."