I Will Not Be Moved

If you have read my blog before, you know I feel very called to help people who have been through the same types of things I’ve endured. I try to reach out to those who have been sexually abused or assaulted, and as I’ve talked to these men and women, I’ve noticed a very common denominator: shame.

I’ve yet to talk to someone who has endured abuse or assault who does not feel some kind of shame. I’ve certainly experienced much of it in my own life…and I never want others to feel that way.

I never wanted to be “her.” I never wanted to have to hide the bruises and the shame. My childhood was fairly sheltered, and I never really knew what abuse was. I’d heard of it, of course, but I never thought I’d fall victim to such violence. Growing up, I was very independent. I had a voice and I used it. I wasn’t someone to buckle back from confrontation. All of that changed in an instant.

I had such a “set” purpose. I refused to allow anyone to hold me down; I wanted to be independent, and strong. But...

I also really wanted a man to love me. And so when the first “grown up” man showed interest in me, I closed my eyes, and I jumped. I didn’t put on a parachute, and I certainly didn’t guard my heart. I trusted him. I was 18 and he was 24; I was just graduating and entering college, and he’d already graduated with a theology degree. I was so lucky! This incredible man who loved Jesus wanted me. Me, of all people! What reason did I have to doubt him?

I fell completely prey to all of his traps. He’d tell me things like,

“Sex isn’t meant to be desired by women. I know it doesn’t feel good, but you’re not supposed to like it. God only created it for men to enjoy.”
“If you don’t want it, you’d be able to stop yourself from reacting. Women can do that. Obviously you want it.”
“Violence is normal. Women like this. What’s wrong with you? Every girl I’ve watched likes this.”
“Stop being dramatic. I didn’t hurt you that bad.”
“I know you think it’s not fair for me to be mean to you, but women get to do unfair things all the time, like childbirth. You have no idea how privileged you are.”
And perhaps the most hurtful: “I’m a better Christian than you.”

I fell for all his words. He’d be so cruel to me, and then offer up the littlest compliments. Oh…when he would compliment me, my heart would melt. “See, he really does love me!” I would tell myself. So I’d settle for the scars, the rapes, the torture. I’d justify his cruel words and his violent actions. I’d remind myself of the words he’d spoken so many times: “You are lucky to have someone like me.”

The night I finally realized something was wrong – that he would never change – was the night I decided it would be better to die on the inside. I stood in the shower, washing the blood off, and shut off my heart. I put a wall around it and refused to let anything penetrate my tough exterior. I resolved myself; if he was going to hurt me physically, I refused to let him hurt my heart.

It was a terrible defense mechanism, but it’s an extremely common one. We all dissociate from pain at one time or another. I didn’t want to feel the shame that came with the sexual sadism. Even when I broke up with him, I fell into the same trap a hundred times over with so many other men. They’d sexually and emotionally abuse me, but I’d remind myself, “At least there aren’t scars. There aren’t the bruises you had before. This is better.”

I settled for abuse after abuse after abuse, because the shame went so deep. When I finally spoke out, almost no one believed my story. I was essentially shoved out of my first college, because everyone took the side of my abuser. I was hated, I was scorned, and I was ostracized. I spent every night crying in my room, and finally decided that none of it was worth it, anymore. So I continued to settle for the abuse, because shame whispered, “You aren’t worth it anymore. No one believes you, and you’ll always be alone.”

After being with my husband for almost two years, I still have this thought sometimes. I still feel that intense shame, and I still blame myself. I still get sickened and I still catch myself staring in the mirror at my scars. But I am now supported more than I have ever been; by friends, by family, by readers of my blog, and by my sweet husband. So I will not be moved.

Brothers and sisters, we have been given an unshakable Kingdom. This abuse you are enduring? This is not what God has for you. You are worth so much more than you can imagine, and the past has no hold on you. That shame? It is a lie from the enemy, so you send it straight back to hell from where it came. Satan thrives in the darkness; shame thrives in the darkness. I began to overcome my shame when I started to share my past with trusted family and friends. I’m not saying you have to write a blog, but maybe it’s time to tell your best friend. Maybe it’s time to talk to someone you really, really trust. The people we love can often share a perspective we do not have; they can show us that our shame is a lie.

Shame is not from God, it’s a lie straight from hell. But in Jesus, you cannot be moved. You are unmovable, unshakable, and more loved and capable than you could ever imagine. I struggle, friends – I struggle often. I don’t want you reading these last words thinking I have it all together. But now when I call out that shame for what it is (a lie), I have so much more peace. Satan wants us to keep those feelings of shame and guilt and doubt in the dark, but God begs us to bring it into the light. When we reveal those lies to the light, they lose all their power. I will not be moved.

If you read this and it resonates with you, feel free to reach out to me through my email (it’s in the “About Me” section to your left). I would love to journey through this with you. You are not alone. You have been given an unshakable Kingdom. Satan does not have a hold over you; shame has no power in the presence of Jesus. Cling to that presence; we are in this together.

“I have set the Lord before me: because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved” (Psalm 16:8, KJV)