Published by Chapter 14
My Secret, God’s Truth
I first began to write poems when I was about twelve years old. Though I’m not sure what exactly sparked my interest in it, from that time on I wrote. My dad’s love for reading poetry and my mom’s love for writing it was the likely impetus. I kept a notebook of my poems, along with a writing journal. I never really dreamed of exposing these innermost thoughts to anyone, but myself. After a period of dormancy, some disturbing childhood memories resurfaced in my conscious mind, finding expression in these private journal entries. My writing intensified as I worked through a time of depression, while learning to cope with the anger and pain of being molested. My uncle had been a frequent visitor and babysitter in our home, and had taken advantage of me and my sister at every available opportunity. I didn’t understand it then, but these writing exercises, along with my faith in God, began a healing process in my heart that continues to this day.
This process of discovery and healing created in my heart a love for writing, which eventually led me to take a creative writing course in High School. In this class I learned some of the basic mechanics of writing, rhythm, and style; but what I remember most about this class was the visitor, who came to talk about “secrets.” I recall watching a film and then listening to the class discussion afterward, which helped me to understand for the first time in my life that my secret was not my fault. I had needed to hear that in order to begin to believe it.
In a private counsel after class, I told the visitor my secret. This was the first time I had opened up to anyone outside of my immediate family. I had earlier discussed the subject with my mother, who I found out at that time, had similar past experiences. She had been molested as a very young child by her own father, who was the family drunk. I had also rediscovered that my sister had experienced this too, which I had somehow erased from my memory until the flashbacks began to flood my mind. My sister had disclosed the abuse to my mother, but I was not ready to confront the issue myself at that time. I told my mother I had forgiven my uncle, and the matter was closed. My mother had decided that the subject should not be discussed with anyone else, not even my father. This had inadvertently given me the impression that I was somehow “dirty,” and that the family secret must be kept quiet. The admonition, “Some things just aren’t talked about” almost became my destruction. I could not “air my dirty laundry” so I wrote instead.
Keeping this silence pushed back into the abyss of my heart and mind, I exploded with the physical and emotional symptoms that manifested themselves soon after my disclosure. The stresses of daily recurring headaches, eventually gave way to suicidal tendencies. I once took a whole bottle of aspirin, which landed me in the hospital for three days of tests. But still I told no one my secret. My secret was safe, deep inside the confines of my own self-constructed torture chamber. Against the coldness of the world, I wrapped myself up in the only blanket that gave me any real comfort, my faith in God and my writing, which had been carefully pieced together like a patchwork quilt. Like all these intricate pieces of art work, the flaws in them make them a one of a kind piece that shows all its beauty in the finished piece.
When I finally had the courage to tell someone my “dirty little secret” that I had kept inside for so long, I inadvertently discovered a biblical truth, which I applied to my writing without realizing its full effect until sometime later. In John 8:32, Christ says, “You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free.” Later, when I looked back through all the yellowed pages of those early journals, I found that as I had expressed the truth of what had happened to me as a child, and how I had felt about it, God was setting my soul free from that torture chamber I had created with its years of chains and suffering. Though the healing process was well under way by that time, I had many more pages to fill before I would truly overcome the effects of my secret. The truth would indeed set my soul free.
Through out every phase of my life, I had felt the presence of God. His occasional and surprising visits in my dreams had brought messages of peace to my soul, even in the midst of the storms of suicidal recklessness, which had threatened to overwhelm me at times. In my heart I was screaming for the unconditional love that only God could give, though I didn’t know that then. Nevertheless, I married at the young age of seventeen, seeking that love in the arms of my husband and later, my children. It would take years of turmoil in my life and marriage to come to the next stage in my healing process. I had given my heart to Jesus, but not my pain.
Much of my writing reflected these years when all my hopes and dreams were crumpled up like so many of my poems that had been tossed in the trash. I realized that fulfillment and peace could not be found in man, but only in God. When my expectations failed me, my life crumpled before me, and death eluded me, I finally placed not only my heart, but all my pain and suffering, and my very life in God’s hands. I grasped from the hands of God, all the hope and peace that had run through my fingers like sand until the day I turned it all over, giving my whole life to God. As Jesus continually renewed my broken spirit, my poems began to reflect God’s love and grace in a way I had never been able to do before. I made a vow to try to bring glory to my Savior Jesus Christ, from then on.
A few years later, I discovered another concept that was instrumental in helping me to overcome the effects of the abuses I had suffered. I had read an article on rape victims, which told of the victim writing a letter to the perpetrator to express her feelings about what he did to her. I had already discovered that writing my feelings down in my journal entries and poetry had helped me tremendously, so it seemed only logical that this might be the next step. With pen in hand, and tears on the page, I wrote “the letter of my life” to my uncle telling him everything I could remember him doing to me, what results his abuse had manifested in my life, and how I felt about it all. The letter did not necessarily have to be mailed to be effective and beneficial to the victim, so I mailboxed it for a while in a dresser drawer. The principle remains whether it is mailed or not, but I finally did mail it sometime later. In my case, it brought about healing and forgiveness on my part, a confession of repentance on my uncle’s part, and the reconciliation of my faith to God and man.
I have continued to write as God has led through the years, and I hope to be a published author someday, though I’m not sure whether my skills are refined enough for that yet. But my greatest desire is that by my willingness to open my heart to others who have been victimized, that God might begin that healing process in the lives of those hurting people. As God, in His omniscient wisdom sent “visitors” into my life, my hope and prayer is to be that angel in disguise in someone else’s life. We all need to talk out our healing with God and others, cleanse our wounds with the slave of prayer, restore our sanctity in the name of Jesus, and walk in the newness of Christ.
It has been my hope for some time to more fully initiate my plans for a ministry for victims of sexual and domestic violence. Some of the activities that I believe will be beneficial in the group setting are writing a letter to the perpetrator, reading them aloud in the safe place of the group on a volunteer basis, the group telling the letter writer, “It’s not your fault, God loves you and so do we.” As they express their empathy for one another, they will more importantly pray together for one another’s healing in the pattern of James 5:16, which states, “Confess your faults to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed.”
Though sometimes our faults are not our fault, sometimes what was not our fault, in fact, becomes our fault. We are each affected by our past in different ways, and often we make wrong choices in reaction to those past hurtful events that were not originally our own sins. Satan often uses our weaknesses against us, and many times we find that our own sins are closely related to those past occurrences. Promiscuity, fornication, and adultery often result from the initial reactions to childhood sexual abuse. We often search for love in all the wrong places, until we find that love, which no human being is capable of, the unconditional love of God.
I want to shine a beacon of hope for those, who have fallen into this trap of Hell, as I once did. God’s Word tells us in II Corinthians 12:9 that God’s grace is sufficient for us, and that God’s strength is made perfect in our weaknesses. Paul the apostle goes on to say, and I repeat, Most gladly, I will rather glory in my weaknesses, so that the power of God may rest on me. What began as my weakness, Christ has healed for the glory of God, so that I might be a witness of God’s grace and power. Though sometimes we are sown in dishonor, which has been placed on us by another individual, we will be raised in the power and glory of Christ Jesus, if we put our trust in Him. I Corinthians 15:43 tells us of the resurrection of our bodies, but I think it can equally apply here as well: It is sown in dishonor and raised in glory, it is sown in weakness and raised in power.
My secret might have destroyed me, but for my faith in the Savior, and it almost did. But by God’s amazing grace, my own heart has become a vessel of mercy for others, and by God’s power, I hold the living water of forgiveness for that secret that would have destroyed me. I have moved beyond my sufferings: For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us…knowing that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to God’s purposes (Romans 8: 18, 28).
I am writing this today as a testimony to God’s grace and healing power. Though my secret will always be a part of my memory, those memories will not control me any more. Though my writing must necessarily reflect that part of my life, instead of pain and anger, I want my writing to reflect God’s mercy and forgiveness. As I seek a way to move on with my life and help others, I will end with the passage in II Corinthians 1: 1-11, which has called me to this ministry: May you have the grace and peace from Yahweh our God, and from Yeshua the Christ. May Yahweh God be blessed, the God who our Christ Yeshua comes from, the God who all mercies come from, and the God who all comforts come from; Who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we may be able to comfort those, who are in any kind of trouble, with the same kind of comfort that we ourselves have been comforted with by God. As we have suffered much for Christ, so we’ll be comforted much by Christ. And if we’re troubled, it’s for your comfort and to help you to be saved, which is what helps us to keep going in what we suffer: Or if we’re in good spirits now, it’s for your comfort and to help you to be saved. And our hope for you is strong, knowing that just as you’ve taken part in the suffering, so you’ll be comforted. Christians, we want you to know of our trouble which came to us…, that we were troubled more than ever, more than our own strength, so that we even lost all hope of life: But we had a death sentence in us, so that we wouldn’t trust in ourselves, but in God, who raises the dead: Who saved us from such a great a death, and so saves us: in whom we trust that even now, will still save us; You’ve also helped by praying for us, that many more people will give thanks in our place, for the gift given to us by the answered prayers of many of you.
For Related Poem My Secret Go to: http://www.authspot.com/Poetry/My-Secret.712553
