I’ve
experienced this kind of trauma as a child and left it buried for almost twelve
years. In fact, I’d spent so much energy denying that it happened that the act
of finally facing it down, giving the trauma a name and talking about it, was
like having open heart surgery. I still remember the first time that I shared
my story of being sexually abused with a counselor. Fear and shame had worked for so long to keep
me silent, but God’s love prevailed, giving me the desire to expose the
darkness and let the secret out
The
healing process was slow, but the more I looked at the truth in light of God’s
love and acceptance, the more I was able to move forward in hope that I could
be healed. Talking it out, praying and memorizing God’s promises all helped me to
see and believe that it was not only over, but that God planned to use it for
good if I’d trust him. Letting go of the pain after facing it was a process
that involved turning over my abusers to the Lord’s judgment with confidence
that they would be held accountable by him, even if no one on the earth besides
me knew about what they did. Once I released them, I was finally free to heal.
I
thought that living through something that horrible meant I wouldn’t have to
experience any further trauma in life. But
I was wrong. I don’t know where I got this idea– it certainly wasn’t from
the Bible where God shows mankind often suffering multiple traumatic events in
the course of a lifetime. On center
stage, of course, is Jesus who was repeatedly rejected, chased down, finally
captured, beaten and crucified. His resurrection is God’s guarantee that while
trauma can momentarily defeat us, it ultimately won’t destroy us if we’ve found
our hope in him.
Over
the course of the past few years I’ve allowed new trauma to stir up fear and
shame in my heart once again. And I’ve stuffed so much of it, that until
recently I didn’t even know what was wrong except that I felt intense sorrow.
Instead of expecting God to do something amazing, I've found myself expecting something
terrible to happen, waiting for the bomb to drop any second. Yet, God is encouraging me that no matter how
much trauma I’ve endured, he doesn’t want me to live in a state of fear and
shame. He’s reminding me that he’s able to bind up my wounds and bring healing regardless
of the depth of the scars. He’s the great physician who made it a point to find
the most wounded people on earth and touch their lives with his power.
I
look at the pain that has recently surfaced in my heart and wonder how it can
be healed; he looks at it and knows that he can transform it into abundant blessings.
Right now, I’m in the process of letting go of the hurt and asking him to reach
down and, by the power of his Spirit, bind up these wounds and bring healing.
I’ve seen him do it in remarkable ways before, and I’m confident that he’s going
to do it again.
“He
heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Ps 147:3
