In early November, I went to California for a writers retreat. There were only four students and the woman leading the retreat. I learned so much and hung out with a few other writers. And yet, the poem below is what I wrote the first night after our opening session.
The next day I read it to one of my new writer friends, a woman who has been on this writing journey for a lot less time than I. She was touched because she had been feeling inadequate and that the rest of us were so much more accomplished than she was.
I love it when God allows me to remember the dark night of the soul in a way that brings cheer and blessing to others.
“The Christian life is not a constant high. I have my moments of deep discouragement. I have to go to God in prayer with tears in my eyes, and say, ‘O God, forgive me,’ or ‘Help me.'”
Billy Graham
Why so downcast, Oh my soul? I understand the psalmist's plea. Here I am with new friends of gold But feelings of sadness needle me.
Am I just a fraud pretending to be One who has something worthwhile to say? When truth be told, or a lie of old, Never will I point to God's way.
How I feel runs hot and cold; Now I am weak when once I was bold. Powerless and useless are words I hear Echoing deep in my mind as fear.
Wounds that run deep still bleed I know they're not true, never were. But still, still these words Oh Lord. You are the truth, the life, the way.
Trigger Warning: This post involves rape. If you are sensitive, please tread lightly. It is not my intention to cause more pain, but to show how God can use even our worst trauma for good.
“But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”
Genesis 50:19-20 (NIV)
When you’re fourteen, they call it puppy love. I thought it was real because he claimed he loved me, too. He was older and cute in a rugged sort of way, with shaggy long brown hair and a scruff of facial hair, not quite a beard and mustache.
One day he asked me to go for a walk, just to talk. The biting cold drove us indoors to his house. In my naiveté, I never saw it coming. At the tender age of 14, my 105-pound frame was overpowered and violated. Without a second thought, he crushed my spirit and devoured an innocence I can never redeem.
It can sound like a platitude, or worse, this oft repeated verse:
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
Romans 8:28, NIV
Surely, Paul didn’t mean all things? He couldn’t have meant the rape I suffered? God certainly can’t bring any good from the suffering, shame, and depression that followed me for decades after?
Or can He?
Even now—as a powerless, frightened little girl lives in me and I sometimes struggle with deep despair, doubting God’s blessings—God reminds me I am His beloved. He has empowered me to survive any trial. I may feel powerless and frightened, but the truth is He will not allow me to be utterly destroyed.
Trauma and loss are inevitable for all of us. I’m not alone even in this dreadful experience of sexual assault.
When I consider my experiences in the light of God’s purposes for my life, I see the blessing. His bigger plan becomes less fuzzy, if not clear. I see how my troubles drew me closer to Jesus as my only refuge.
The path my life may have taken—had there been no pain, no loss of innocence—is one in which I may have never understood my need for a Savior. When all is well, what does one need saving from? But I did need to be saved from a darkness that grew deeper with each successive trauma I experienced. I desperately needed rescuing so I could live this wonderful, light-filled life He gave me.
I like the woman God has shaped me into, even if suffering was required for the Potter to mold this piece of clay. God did not plan or desire my suffering, but He certainly used it to develop in me the compassion, mercy, and humility that have become my hallmark. In all my experiences, He worked for my good because He loves me. He has called me to use my experience to give hope to others.
Do you need this hope today?
It’s just a story away. I’d love if you would share your story so that God can begin to use it for good, too. If you don’t know how to even start writing your story, check out my guided poetry journal, which you can request here: https://anotherfearlessyear.net/i-believe-you.
In June of 2002, I journeyed from Alaska to Cambridge, England. It was there I somehow found myself on the streets talking to myself; alone, disoriented and quite lost.
I wasn’t taking my medication.
I had just been released from a hospital in Anchorage, Alaska and was under the care of a psychiatrist. I headed out without his approval..And so here I am now all alone in a country I had never visited before. My confusion was profound. I was desperate and mentally ill.
I noticed the stares and the whispers as wandered the streets.
Or maybe it was just my raging paranoia. But yet there’s more. Much more. On just a mildly benign occasion I wandered into the English version of a Wal-mart. I was in a dreary daze, but I thought I ‘heard’ a 5 foot bush call out as I walked by. I just knew my calling was a prophet. I was like Moses. I also heard God from a bush! (Exodus 3:2).
My chosen, eternal destiny was to save it. I grabbed and scootched it toward the check-out line. After a few minutes the bush was insanely heavy and I saw that the line was very long.
After some time I finally abandoned the tree in the middle of the check-out line. It seems I did have some moments of clarity, even at my strangest. It was a weird experience. (What can I say, I’m a sucker for talking bushes.)
I was told later that over hundred people were praying for me.
Finally, at my worst, I reached into my pack and there was this CD. I began to listen to it, and imperceptibly began to be restored to some semblance of sanity. My thinking was clearer and I would finally find my way back to where I was staying.
King Saul, in his own weak grip on sanity, was ministered to by David’s music.
One song on the CD in particular ministered to me. It’s called “Kyrie Eleison,”which is Latin for “Lord Have Mercy.”
Kyrie Eleison Lyrics
Verse 1 Empty broken here I stand, Kyrie eleison, Touch me with Your healing hand, Kyrie eleison, Take my arrogance and pride, Kyrie eleison, wash me in Your mercy’s tide, Kyrie eleison.
Verse 2 When my faith is all but gone, Kyrie eleison, Give me strength to carry on, Kyrie eleison, when my dreams have turned to dust, Kyrie eleison, In You O Lord I put my trust, Kyrie eleison.
Verse 3 When my heart is cold as ice, Kyrie eleison, Your love speaks of sacrifice, Kyrie eleison, Love that sets the captives free, Kyrie eleison, O pour compassion down on me, Kyrie eleison.
Verse 5 Humble heart of holiness, Kyrie eleison, Kiss me with Your tenderness, Kyrie eleison, Jesus, faithful Friend and true, Kyrie eleison, All I am I give to You, Kyrie eleison.
I love this quote. I don’t remember the first time I read it, but it resonated with me immediately. I see in myself that person, carrying buckets of cold water to douse the flames trying to consume the lost and hopeless.
I’ve been through hell here on earth. Over a decade of it. I felt sure all was lost. The thoughts in my head wouldn’t go away. They said things like:
I’ll always be broken.
My family would be better off without me.
Nobody likes me.
I’m worthless.
I’ll never hold down a full-time job.
I’m weak and helpless, good for nothing.
I can’t leave my house; it’s not safe.
I’m going to be attacked again and I deserve it.
I hate people!
I just want to die.
Depression that stems from sexual trauma is a special kind of hell.
The way our culture questions survivors of rape, asks what they did to bring it on, makes many victims say nothing. They tell no one. Instead, they keep the secret inside and bury it in their soul, where it sprouts and grows. It grows bitterness, self-loathing, fear, anger, hatred, and hopelessness. It grows lies, like the ones I told myself over and over. That secret fans the flames of hell, burning the soul.
I walked out of those flames.
Okay, maybe crawled would be a better description. But I am victorious, still alive, still a little broken but okay with that. I didn’t do it alone. I had friends, family, prayer warriors, and Jesus Himself who helped me.
I’ve learned that none of my burning thoughts, even if they were partly true, didn’t change the fact that God loves me. He loves me so much He sent His Son Jesus to redeem me, to douse the flames of hell for me.
And when I began to share my secret, let it out into the light of day, something amazing happened. The sprouts of bitterness, hatred, and hopelessness began to wither. Jesus exposed the lies I had believed and showed me these truths:
Though I am a cracked jar of clay, I hold His power within me. (See 2 Corinthians 4:7-10).
My family needs me just the way I am.
A lot of people like me, and quite a few love me too.
If you are feeling the flames of hell on earth, for whatever reason, I am here to pour the cool water of truth on the lies that are fanning the flames. And not just me. I know that Bryan is also here to help carry you out. I pray you can connect locally with loved ones who can help bear your burden and bring you into the abundant life Jesus promised.
The despair of hell can seem so real, but trust me. It is only a deception of the evil one. I in no way want to diminish the pain you are feeling. I know how painful depression and trauma can be. But hold on. Help is on its way.
