EMPOWER INFLUENCE EDUCATE RESTORE
What would you do if you met up with your abuser. I am trying to hear what you are saying.
All those nights as I was growing up, I tried hard not to fall asleep in case someone came into my room. I had to keep watch. I had to protect myself. I was only a child. What do you do, when the child had to become the adult to protect oneself.
I thought the Lord Himself had rejected me. I had to protect myself, since God could not protect me.
That night, I became someone else. I was forced to take on a full time night job as a child, that required me to stay awake and watch over myself. That was my full time role, watching over myself, keeping myself safe.
If God forgave me, what right did I have to hold unforgiveness? How could I be an hypocrite?
An incident that can happen in your childhood could inflict much pain in your grown up life years later. It changes you for life. To become a bitter person, that decision lies with you.
When you have gone through an abusive situation, maybe as a child, it can mess up with your outlook in life. I felt no one saw me, the real me. No one saw my tears, my loneliness, my fears. Life stood still for me from that night when he entered my room. I could hear my own heart pounding like the thunder threatening to tear my chest apart. I heard a scream. It seemed a bad dream. But I realized it was my own scream. The potency of my unconditioned scream impacted the degree of my fear. I could still hear that chilling sound of the scream of the me child, sending goose bumps onto my skin now.
I asked God to vindicate me, to avenge me, to make this person pay. But what could he pay, he had nothing to pay with. It takes a sick person to damage a child and what can a sick person have to give?
They say, time heals all wounds. The wound might be healed but what do I do with the scar that makes me relive that horrible night over and over again.
You move on in life, pretending all is well, all is wholesome, but somewhere deep inside, buried is the memory of your sorrows is that night then you become that little girl again, stuck in a big girls body, afraid.
When I took hold of Jesus hand, looking into his eyes, His outstretched hands bore the mark of my sin. I asked Him; "How do you see me, do you see me as the abused person, how do you see me?" "If only you could show me what you see, then maybe I could also believe." I looked into his eyes, and I saw myself, a new me.
I was able to truly forgive and live again. His blood broke the chain of shame and unforgiveness in my heart. It gave me a new life. I see me as Jesus sees me.