I’m not one of those people with horrid childhood memories of physical abuse and neglect. I didn’t survive beatings with pots and pans, nor was I left unattended, unclothed or unfed. Yet I was often reminded that I was unwanted. Oh, not in those words exactly. In fact, the exact words were: You were an accident. We didn’t plan to have you. Of course, it was sometimes followed up by a statement sounding something like, But we’re glad you came along. Unfortunately, even when those words were spoken, I’d already latched on to the previous statement. The reminder didn’t come often, but when it did, it hurt afresh every time…I was unwanted.
While growing up and even in my early adult years, I never would’ve used the word abuse for what went on in my home. However, I’ve come to understand that’s exactly what it was. Abuse happens in many forms, and I experienced several: spiritual abuse; some physical abuse; emotional abuse and manipulation. The effects have been far reaching. Things that happened to me as a child influenced the decisions I made as an adult due to broken trust and a lack of authenticity.
I think some of the greatest damage I experienced was done unintentionally and out of ignorance. My parents had been part of a spiritual environment that taught legalism, which they passed down to me. My warped concept of God was formed at an early age. I believed God to be always sitting on the edge of His holy seat, waiting for me to mess up so He could punish me. I also believed that any blessings from Him were tied to my good behavior. You can imagine the impact those beliefs had on me as an adult facing the everyday struggles of life. Almost every decision I made was weighed against whether God would bless or punish me. Grace was a word for which I knew the definition, but the experience wasn’t even on my radar.
Since I was aware of my constant struggle against my flesh, I hid behind a good-girl mask. I played a role which included hidden character traits such as pride, arrogance and judgment. My heart was cold and merciless. I closed myself off from any chance of authentic, transparent, intimate relationships. I was lonely. At the age of thirty, I was disgusted with the mask and the role, so I tossed them both to the wind and went my own way. Moral failure doesn’t seem adequate enough to define my behavior. And in the process, I allowed myself to experience more abuse and, once again, felt unwanted.
Soon after, the guilt and shame weighed heavy, and I enlisted in a sin management program; i.e., I was constantly trying to please God with good behavior and lack of sin. I repeatedly begged God for forgiveness for even the slightest unintentional misbehavior or sinful thought. I’d pretty much lost all hope that I could ever be good enough for God to love. That’s exactly the place where God wanted me.
As my world came crashing down around me while on my knees, God spoke these words through human form: I forgive you. As the one I betrayed spoke those words, I was aware of how much God loved me and forgave me…much more than any person would ever be capable. Mercy and Grace rushed in to show me what true love looked like.
True love…willingly accepted the death penalty for my guilt. True love…my closest friend when all others left. True love…forgave the unforgivable.
What I hadn’t realized was that True Love had been waiting for me my whole life. Waiting for me to quit searching and hurting. Waiting to redeem what I had broken. Waiting to give me new life.
Love revealed Himself, and in my surrender, redeemed me. He is continually restoring my life for His purpose. He makes all things new. Even me.
