On the outside everything seemed perfect. An acquaintance's words danced through my mind. "You hide your pain well." She had noted, referring to my health, but I knew it also applied to my heart. I can wear a mask like a pro when I need to.
The chorus of a Riley Clemons song began playing on my phone, singing " For the good, for the good, you work all things together..."
Suddenly I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. I raged at God. "Why didn't you protect me, how can being violently raped, at the age of four, work together for good?" How can years of sexual abuse work together for good?"
"Do you protect your children? Who do you protect? Not me, obviously, or have you?"
Shame swept over me as a flood of questions swam through my mind. I shouldn't be questioning, after all that I have seen and experienced God's true nature. Yet here I am, on a beautiful July morning, unravelling at the seams.
"Show me God" I pled. As flashbacks of my tiny body being mutilated with metal objects and raped flooded my mind once more. Through a flood of tears, I began searching the Bible for answers.
I know mankind has free will. I've learned that God can't just recant free will or he would have to change his nature. Free will is the essence of his demonstration of love to us. It is a demonstration of perfect love.
Every moment of abuse I have suffered at the hands of others included complete powerlessness. My free will was taken, as they controlled and dominated me in mind and body. I wasn't allowed to cry, scream, say no, or fight back. I wasn't able to escape or choose for myself. I was held down, raped, tied up beaten, suffocated, locked up, imprisoned in my own home and even tortured at times. My free will was violated with every vile act of abuse committed year after year.
But God is the only being that gives free will entirely. He doesn't withdraw it when it suits him. He lets mankind choose for themselves. He does this so we are never forced to choose Him. True love doesn't coerce or manipulate you into a place where you surrender your heart. Only abusers do that!
God isn't an abuser. I know that he abhors everything wicked including the filthy crimes committed against me.
In my heartache and desperation, I always wished that my anguished cries to God resulted in some kind of intervention. I prayed with faith, pleading for him to make them all stop. But it seemed my prayers went unanswered. Even if one abuser left my life another took their place. I thought I must have had a sign on my forehead that everyone but me could see, that read. I am yours to violate and destroy. It was the only way I could explain being violently abused by so many men before I even turned 16.
I was an utterly obedient child, having been taught unquestioning submission to all those placed in authority over me. I obeyed everyone including every pedophile and rapist. Until I was 13 I didn't even know that it wasn't normal. It was my normal.
I was confused, on the day I was taken to my pastor by a friend's mother and told that I needed to tell him about the memories that made me scream in my sleep and wake up others.
I wish Pastor Bob hadn't died suddenly after hearing one piece of my story. Maybe he could have helped save me from the nightmare that continued.
But God saw... He saw every violation, every horrible moment, every beating, every bruise, every time I was denied food, clothing or love, or kindness. He saw.
It's strange but I recall feeling God's presence even in my darkest hours as a tiny girl. I would say to him " You are the only one who won't hurt me" as I lay curled up on my bed in the dark, nursing the wounds that no one saw. At times I felt like He was holding me, whispering calm into my shattered heart.
His presence was what I clung to. But my understandings were so primitive and warped. I thought I had to be perfect, to earn his love. I tried desperately too. If only I could be perfectly obedient at all times, perfectly poised, never showing my inner pain, then perhaps I'd earn God's love. Of course, that's impossible.
I decided as a small child that I may never be worth loving. God still met me there in the dark, comforting me So I decided to love him as best as I could. Sadly I thought that If I could serve him enough, and honour him with every part of me that in return he would make the abuse stop. This twisted teaching was drilled into my head by my parents ironically. It was a foundational belief in the cult they had become entrenched in.
Gothard taught that perfect submission results in protection. If bad things like rape happen it is because some hidden part of your heart isn't fully submissive to authority. I was taught that it was all my fault and I believed it wholeheartedly. Perhaps I didn't display the required joyful countenance. Perhaps I was angry at my parents. The truth was that I secretly held hatred in my heart. It welled up while I was beaten. It welled up while I was pinned beneath the men who stole my innocence. I felt hatred as I heard my father rant and rage over stupid things. I felt hatred as my mother skillfully stripped me of my free will and treated me as an abhorrent creature that needed to be destroyed.
I masterfully kept my anger hidden. When I was alone, I turned every bit of it inward pouring all that hate against myself. I told myself, you are so stupid and ugly. Your own mother can't even stand the sight of you. I convinced myself that God can't love me because my heart was too ugly and I was too imperfect.
As each new day dawned Id try again to feel nothing but love for my family. I'd shut out every wicked thing they did and try to focus only on the good.
My mother was so talented. She could paint or draw anything. She was a writer and poet, and musician. She opened her mouth and people listened hanging on every word.
My father was brilliant. His extraordinary IQ made him a commodity. He would travel all over, to fix the most complex computer problems out there that no one else could fix. He was a skillful carpenter who could create anything he imagined. He was a scholar and respected religious leader.
Perhaps if I focused on those things and pretended the rest wasn't happening then I would be "good enough", and God would finally deem me worth protecting.
But I couldn't find good things about everyone. What good was there in the gang of boys at school who made it a competition, of who could sneak up and sexually assault me the most times? I hated what they did to me day after day at school.
If I couldn't hate them, I'd just hate myself. I hated my curvy body for being a target of men's lust. I hated being a female, a physically damaged, mutilated female. I hated my mind for remembering vivid details. I hated my existence. I loathed myself and determined that everyone else should too. I decided that I was beyond worthless. I believed that even an all-powerful God couldn't love such a disgraceful girl. It didn't matter that it was all against my will. It didn't matter that I chose to be pure in every way I could. I still felt utterly unworthy and If I'm honest I still battle that belief daily.
I am saddened to think of the constant striving that I did for so long, all because I believed lies. So, if God's protection wasn't based on my worth, or my lack of worth then what is true?
Here is the truth...
All of mankind has free will. Many exploit that gift to destroy others. God doesn't allow abuse per se. He allows free will because he truly loves us and wants us to choose for ourselves whether we will love him in return.
He never promised to stop everything bad from happening on Earth. Why do we expect him to stop the bad? If he did, he would have to either make us brain-dead robots he controlled, who have no free will or he'd have to destroy us completely because even those of us who try to be good fail. We hurt others even if it's inadvertently. We blame him for all that is bad, instead of thanking him for who he is, a God who is waiting with an outstretched hand saying, I love you...
While God doesn't promise to make life painless, he does promise things. He promises to not leave us, to be there when we cry out. He promised that if we choose to be in a relationship with him, giving him our hearts, he will save us from the consequences of all our sins.
My heritage is resilience. All the wicked weapons created to destroy me will not succeed. All the lies against me will be refuted. I'm not a worthless, unloveable girl, despite what I feel. I'm a highly loved daughter of God, adopted with an eternal purpose.
This is my heritage from God.
Note* As I was asking God how he can work things for good. Two young women messaged me. Each was struggling and thankful that I was pouring into their lives. One thanked me for encouraging her. She mentioned that by sharing what God had done in my life, she was given such hope. She wanted to hear more. I know that is the answer. He is working all things together for an eternal purpose and he's using my pain for his glory, despite the reality that I'm still hurting. Even in our brokenness, he can bring good from the pain of this life.
