Should a Christian Put Up “Boundaries” with a Mentally Ill Addict (Who Happens to be Her Mother)?

As a professional Christian mediator for over twenty years now, I have the privilege of participating in webinars with Christian conciliators from around the world. Yesterday, we discussed the topic of forgiveness and how hard it can for us to forgive and to help the parties we serve to forgive, especially when there are complicating factors like dangerous situation, active addictions, and undiagnosed/untreaated mental illnesses.

One of the conciliators brought up the (oft’ popular) idea of “boundaries.” and whether we should, as Christian conciliators, be promoting “boundaries” with our clients. I’ve actually been thinking about this topic a lot lately because Words to Live By just sent me another letter giving me a heads-up that they will be re-airing my testimony tomorrow and Friday. This is the third or fourth airing they have done for my testimony and I assume it is getting so much airtime for the same reason that my “How to Write a Eulogy for a Bad Mother / A Mother Who Didn’t Love You” blog post is always (every day) in my list of most popular blog posts:

Some of us have had very painful, complex relationships with our mothers.

I talk about many things in this Words to Live By broadcast, but the interviewer went deep into my relationship with my mother—its brokenness, pain, horror, “death” (by the time I was a young adult, my mother’s and my relationship was pretty much as dead as any relationship could ever be), and God’s grace in “resurrecting” our relationship (when I was in my 30’s) to one of the deepest friendships of my life. (I still miss my mother and ache to hear her strong-Chicago-accent / crackly-lifetime-smoker’s-voice pretty much every day.)

How is this possible? How did I learn to love a mentally-ill addict*** (who happened to be my mom)? Well. It never would have happened if I had followed my instinct (and even some advice I received from well-meaning people) in my teens and early twenties to put up “boundaries” and just walk away from the “toxic person” altogether. Sure, my life would have been easier in the short-term, but I would have missed out on the blessings of learning how to obey the Second Greatest commandments (Matthew 22)! Laying down my life not only for my friends (John 15) but loving even my enemy (Matthew 5). Remembering the great debt I have been forgiven so that I never choke my fellow servant (Matthew 18). Learning how to bear all things (1 Corinthians 13) because I am mindful of the mercies of God (Romans 12). Remembering that I have been cleansed from my former sins so that I can stop being nearsighted and blind and can instead grow in brotherly kindness and love (2 Peter 1).

God’s Word and God’s people constrained me to not put up “boundaries” but instead, to be wise and loving, with an eternal perspective re: how I interacted with my mother.

Does that mean I was taught to be a doormat? A victim? A codependent people-pleaser? By no means! Instead, I was taught that my interests—including at times, my safety—were at issue in my relationship with my mother (especially when she was drunk or not in her right mind). Thus, my interests were to be rightfully considered. But I was also taught that my interests were not the only interests that should be considered. As a Christian, I was also called to consider the interests of others (for example, my mother and all of the people who were observing how I treated my mother), and most of all–the interests of Christ (Philippians 2:1-4 & 21).

Almost 25 years after the last time I ever lived with my mother (she attempted suicide when I was 16 years old and after rescuing her, I never lived with anyone in my biological family again), I read an article by Ed Welch that concisely and clearly articulated what I was (stumblingly) trying to do all of those decades ago re: my relationship with my mother:

Boundaries in Relationships

I urge you to read Dr. Welch’s article in its entirety. But just to give you a taste of its wisdom, consider a few of the notes I took when I first read this article:

– Even “Christian” books will encourage you to “set a personal boundary” and “just say no.” But is that how we should think about such things? Is “setting a boundary” a biblical paradigm?

– Instead of “boundaries,” perhaps we should think in terms of wisdom and love; the knowledge of God revealed in Christ; repentance; faith expressing itself in love.

– Love and discernment are the constituent parts of wisdom.

– Instead of erecting “boundaries,” ask: “How should I wisely love this person? What is my calling? What are my priorities?” The challenge of love is that wisdom and love are so multi-faceted. Love and wisdom may entail taking a bullet for someone OR kicking them out of your house. Love and wisdom may mean bearing their burden or encouraging them and helping them as they bear their own burden.

– Love does not always mean self-sacrifice. Love and wisdom can mean saying no.

– (In cases of physical abuse)—a boundary is appropriate : call the police; provide a safe place; initiate a protection from abuse order; do whatever is necessary to protect her. Why? Love. Love says no to evil. .

– Walk in wisdom. Don’t erect boundaries. Sometimes you answer a foolish person, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you cover an offense, sometimes you speak out. You begin with the fear of the Lord, learn from similar situations, get the counsel of others, keep checking your own heart and its motives, remember your limitations, rehearse the law of love, recognize that keeping everyone happy is impossible but there are ways you can speak that encourage conciliation, mutual understanding, and unity.

– Thinking in terms of ‘boundaries’ can lead us to think more about self-protection than about love. 

Well said, Dr. Welch. Thank you.

I still have so far to go (of course!) but I am striving to learn how to walk in both wisdom and love in all of my relationships—the most blessed, safe, encouraging, happy ones; and the darkest, most difficult, most trying ones.

With that, I will close out this sweet time of remembrance and get back to work practicing law.

May God be praised as we all learn how to walk in both wisdom and love!

Your friend in the battle,
Tara B.

PS
If you are a visual learner, you can watch a video of me teaching on this subject at a conference (and this link includes the LiveBlog summary in text too if you prefer to just scan the content).

***PLEASE NOTE*** I really don’t like to use the phrase “mentally ill addict” because a) there is so much complexity related to the spiritual and physical realities of mental illness and addiction; and b) my mother was much MUCH more than her struggles. She was also a poet, an artist, and one of the most generous people I have ever known. I just haven’t figured out a way to make a pithy phrase that doesn’t stop the flow of an article or a teaching but still articulates the truth. You know. Something more like:

How to Love Your Mother, Who Did the Very Best She Could, but Who, Like You, Has Many Weaknesses in Addition to Her Many Strengths and Who, Like You, Sometimes Turned to Not-the-Healthiest (Physically and Spiritually) Substances and Means to Deal with Her Suffering and Temptations and Fallenness, Including Self-Medicating with Scotch for Many Years and How to Love Your Mother Who Had Exactly the Same Amount of Neediness for the Savior as You, and How to Get Off of Your High Horse and Stop Judging Her and Instead See Yourself as Being More Like Her than Unlike Her So That You Can Enjoy the Best, Most Real, Most Intimate Relationship that Your Sin and Fallenness and Her Sin and Fallenness Will Possibly Allow

Yes. Sure. More accurate! But what it gains in meticulousness it loses in pith. So please excuse the weaknesses inherent in the term of art “mentally ill addict” and please interpret what I say in light of what I mean. And if it helps you to have a picture … here is the one of the last pictures my mother and I ever had taken together. Isn’t she lovely? And loved. I am so grateful for God’s grace in helping me learn how to love my mother. My life is richer for it.