"Courage, Dear Heart"

*Disclaimer: this is different than anything I have ever posted on this blog. I think it is very important to write about, and I believe God can use it to shine light into your life, but understand it may be a bit intense for some younger readers.

“Courage, dear heart.” Aslan whispered these words to Lucy in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader (C.S. Lewis). I know I’m a bit old for fairy tales, but I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow the magnificence that is The Chronicles of Narnia. I find myself relating to so many of the characters; but sadly, they are not often the brave heroes of the stories. Instead I find myself relating to Edmund rather than Peter, or Susan rather than Lucy. I’m Emeth in The Last Battle, Shasta in The Horse and His Boy, and Digory in The Magician’s Nephew. The common thread? Fear.

Tonight, I heard God speak to me through a fairy tale: courage, dear heart. “My child, what can you fear? For if I am for you, no one can stand against you.”

Ah, Jesus, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? People have stood against me my entire life. Mortal man has struck me down more times than I can count. I’m finally feeling called, by You, to share my holy discontent. So why, my Jesus, is this so hard? Why is it so difficult to share when I know it’s what You're calling me to do? I have held this holy discontent so tightly to my chest for years, and now I know no other way. What You're calling me to terrifies me to my core, because if You don't show up, I’m left without protection; completely alone, vulnerable, and bleeding.

When I was thirteen years old, I got very sick. For the past ten years I have dealt with a plethora of serious health issues, including two seizure disorders and severe chronic pain. I think going through all of this contributed to my low self-esteem. I had to leave my softball teams, I wasn’t able to attend my senior year of high school, and I’ve had to drop out three separate times in college. The pain has been debilitating, and some days I don’t even have enough energy to get out of bed. After so many years of being physically beaten by these diseases, it's difficult to look in the mirror with anything but disdain.

When I was nineteen years old, my father died. My father – my pastor, Iron Man, protector, and cheerleader. He was the only man I have ever fully trusted, and when I lost him, I lost my world. My self-hatred only continued to grow, because I was so broken and alone.

And here is the shattered, ugly truth: losing everything I lost, made losing my innocence even harder.

My holy discontent stems from years of hell I walked through, completely alone. I had mastered the art of deception; no one saw the broken girl suffering inside of me. I learned how to hide the bruises, how to smile through the pain, and come up with ridiculous excuses when I was questioned a little too close for comfort. So many years of illness hadn’t just broken my body; it’d broken my spirit. So when I was 18 years old, and a successful 24-year-old with an impressive degree showed interest in me, I closed my eyes and I jumped.

“Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn” (C.S. Lewis).

The relationship didn’t start out too terribly, but after a few weeks, he started doing things that made me very uncomfortable...later his actions turned much more brutal, violent, and evil. But, being 18 and incredibly naïve, I believed every word he fed me.

The moment I knew something was wrong was when I instinctively lied to a doctor. I had to go to the hospital after a particularly bad day. The woman who examined me knew what had happened. She looked up at me with sad eyes and said, "Sweetie, there's a lot of damage here. What happened?" Regardless of her kind eyes and sincerity, I whispered the lie, "I don't know". Somewhere, deep in my heart, I knew my boyfriend wasn’t telling the complete truth. So much of me believed him because he was “older” and “more experienced,” but the moment that first lie slipped from my lips, I knew there was something off. If he was right, and what he was saying was true, then I shouldn’t have needed to lie. I shouldn’t have been scared. I don’t know why I didn't stop consuming his lies for the duration of our relationship, but I do know one thing:

I fell for every word because there wasn’t anyone else telling me otherwise.

And worst of all, when I was broken and bleeding, the Body left me there.

Let me be clear: this is not an attack on anyone in particular, nor is it an attack on any particular church. This is something I have noticed about the Body as a whole, through the many churches that I’ve attended in the last six years. For all of those years I was suffering, no one was there to explain to me what was happening. No one was there to tell me, “That’s not right. That’s not how it is supposed to be.”

Instead I was met with sermons that made pre-marital sexual experiences out to be an irredeemable sin. Once gone, always gone, and there’s no way to get that sacredness back. I kept my mouth shut for years because no one was talking about the most harmful sexual sin: sexual violence.

I had been so conditioned to believe all of these lies, that I continued to fall for them as I kept dating. I didn’t think I was worthy of love and compassion. I was being told the harshest things about myself and my physical appearance – insults reinforced by being hit, or worse. And after a while…I’d look in the mirror, and whisper those insults to myself.

"You're a terrible daughter, Christian, and girlfriend. He could easily choose someone else, so keep your mouth shut. You're lucky he chose you."

"You're worthless, and way too sensitive. You need to get over it - he didn't hurt you that bad."

"You've shown your true colors. You're worthless, ugly, fat, and disgusting - you're lucky he's even with you."

These are very real lies that were whispered to me over all of those years; lies that have broken my spirit. The LORD has been so faithful, and is oh, so beautifully building me back up, but I want to be clear: my low self-esteem is not a grab for attention. It’s a manifestation of the years I spent walking in the dark, completely alone.

It took me too long to pull myself out of this cycle of relationships; a cycle that could’ve possibly been broken if people were talking about what a healthy relationship should look like. Because here is what I believe with all of my heart: if the Church is going to talk about sex, it needs to talk about all sex. Not just consensual sex.

We are leaving boys and girls – young men and young women – to suffer at the hands of others. When we teach them that their bodies are irredeemable, or they lose that sacredness after having a premarital sexual experience, we are causing them to withdraw further. When we don't teach them about rape and sexual violence, they're assuming they are the ones who are sinning. And if they believe they will be judged, why would they share what is happening in their lives, or in their hearts? We must be there to teach them that their bodies and hearts are worth so much more than anything that anyone is doing to them, or has done to them. I can say these things because I have been there - I have been hurt by the Church's hateful view of sex, and I despised myself. I hated who I was, even though it was rape.

My holy discontent is the knowledge that we, as a Body, could have a chance to prevent this type of suffering, but we don’t. We are called to protect the weak and the needy, so why are we not doing this? We don’t talk about rape, abuse, and sexual violence because it’s “awkward”. It’s an “uncomfortable topic.” But how can we even call ourselves the Body of Christ when we are leaving people to suffer on the outside, without providing a healthy escape?

More than that, how can I change this area of the world? How can I work to stop these horrors from ever happening to someone else? How can I work to stop sex trafficking, domestic violence, and pedophilia? What can I do to bring about the expulsion of pornography, which fuels every single one of these issues? How can I use this holy discontent to bring glory to the Kingdom of God?

I suppose I’ve answered some of these questions by sharing this blog post. Awareness is so integral if we are to make changes in the world. There is such desperate need for restoration in these dark places. Satan thrives in the dark! And this is why I stayed quiet for so long. Satan longed for me to keep these evil acts to myself.

"Hush."

"Don’t tell anyone, it’ll only bring judgment and heartache."

"If you tell people about this, they'll only blame you. After all, you blame yourself, don't you?"

"If you start sharing this part of your life, it could anger people from your past and put your physical safety in jeopardy."

"If you speak out about your holy discontent, you could lose everything."

Too long have I listened to Satan’s lies! This is my calling. God is going to use me to bring healing in this area of the world. I refuse to be Tamar any longer; I refuse to keep quiet about this pain. God is going to make such beauty from these ashes, and that’s what I’m resting in. My Jesus has brought such beautiful redemption into my life, and I must share it with others. It is my Godly duty to share it with others! The redemption story is able to reach everyone…and yes, that means the abusers as well. God is chasing and pursuing every single one of us. He’s begging us to turn back to Him, and rest within His arms. “Here is joy that cannot be shaken. Our light can swallow up your darkness: but your darkness cannot now infect our light” (C.S. Lewis).

“God whispers in our pleasures, speaks into our consciences, but shouts in our pain. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” Jesus has provided me the bravery that no one else can give me. My Savior has given me this beautiful calling – a calling that could have only blossomed through those years of hurt and heartbreak. And oh, my God, that is so well with my soul.

~you cannot go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending~

Thank you all for allowing me to share this part of my life with you. I care so deeply for each one of you, and I pray for you so often. You are all welcome to email me through the link in my blog profile. And above all else, I give every ounce of strength, glory, and healing that results from this post to my Father. Without Him, I would still be the lost, broken little girl I was for all those years. I cannot thank my Jesus, enough.