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Showing posts with label beauty for ashes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty for ashes. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
The Abortion Was More Damaging Than the Rape, by Nona Ellington
My father was an evangelist, traveling and ministering where ever he was called.
My mother was a devout Southern Baptist and my father was a full-gospel, spirit-filled Christian. I was torn between two churches. They were both very godly people but had different outlooks on the Bible because of their denominations.
I received Jesus as my Savior and was baptized at age 12 in the Baptist Church, but I did not understand the importance of daily prayer, and reading the Word of God.
At the age of 13, I was raped by a 15 year old extended family member, stealing my virginity. I was scared, having not received any sexual education at all. I thought immediately that I would be pregnant. I was afraid to tell anyone because this was a family member. Because he had given me marijuana beforehand, I felt ashamed that I had not seen it coming.
As a result, I turned to drugs, alcohol and sought attention from older men. Within a year, I was raped by a cousin who was 10 years older than me -- once again, after being given marijuana. He drove me into the woods and raped me in his truck.
At that point, I felt like there was a big sign on me, "Rape this girl." After that, I went into a really dark place, again, feeling so much shame. I didn't want the devastation in the family if I told anyone because I knew he would go to jail, and I didn't even know if anyone would believe my story.
I became distant with my parents. I was involved in church, going church with my Mom, but found the worst crowd to hang out with there -- those who would smoke pot in the parking lot. I was even in a private Christian school, but got kicked out at age 14 because of my activities.
In 10th grade, I started a public school and soon after met a boy who I began dating. He took me to his cousin's house after school because no adults were home. We smoked pot that must have been laced with something else, then he locked me in his cousin's room and raped me.
He left me in the room where I was devastated, and I could hear him and his cousin laughing about it. I felt like I just wanted to get out of there and get home, but I didn't even know where I was so I was still dependent upon the guy who raped me to be able to get a ride home.
After few weeks later, I'd missed my period. I called an older sister to tell her my predicament, and my sister began to tell me I needed to have an abortion. At 15, I didn't even know what an abortion was. My mother overheard our conversation, burst into the room and grabbed the phone from me. During their conversation, my sister convinced my mom that I needed to abort. I have no idea how she achieved this, because my mom had 9 children and was, as I said, very devout.
I was scared, so I made a "deal" with God: "Please help me to not be pregnant. If I'm not pregnant, I promise not to ever have sex out of marriage again."
That same sister took me to Planned Parenthood in Houston for a pregnancy test, where they confirmed my pregnancy, and I was in shock. They told me that at this stage of only five weeks, "it" was only a blob of tissue. They also suggested that I needed an abortion, since I was so young and still in school. I didn't know what questions to ask as far as other options. All that was discussed was abortion, and they referred me to another clinic to have one.
I was devastated. At school, I told all of my girlfriends and every single one recommended I get an abortion. Everybody told me that it was really "no big deal, people do it all the time, especially since you're still in school." Not one person suggested that I could keep the baby or choose adoption. I felt abortion was my only choice, and completely lacked any education on pregnancy.
I received Jesus as my Savior and was baptized at age 12 in the Baptist Church, but I did not understand the importance of daily prayer, and reading the Word of God.
At the age of 13, I was raped by a 15 year old extended family member, stealing my virginity. I was scared, having not received any sexual education at all. I thought immediately that I would be pregnant. I was afraid to tell anyone because this was a family member. Because he had given me marijuana beforehand, I felt ashamed that I had not seen it coming.
As a result, I turned to drugs, alcohol and sought attention from older men. Within a year, I was raped by a cousin who was 10 years older than me -- once again, after being given marijuana. He drove me into the woods and raped me in his truck.
At that point, I felt like there was a big sign on me, "Rape this girl." After that, I went into a really dark place, again, feeling so much shame. I didn't want the devastation in the family if I told anyone because I knew he would go to jail, and I didn't even know if anyone would believe my story.
I became distant with my parents. I was involved in church, going church with my Mom, but found the worst crowd to hang out with there -- those who would smoke pot in the parking lot. I was even in a private Christian school, but got kicked out at age 14 because of my activities.
In 10th grade, I started a public school and soon after met a boy who I began dating. He took me to his cousin's house after school because no adults were home. We smoked pot that must have been laced with something else, then he locked me in his cousin's room and raped me.
He left me in the room where I was devastated, and I could hear him and his cousin laughing about it. I felt like I just wanted to get out of there and get home, but I didn't even know where I was so I was still dependent upon the guy who raped me to be able to get a ride home.
After few weeks later, I'd missed my period. I called an older sister to tell her my predicament, and my sister began to tell me I needed to have an abortion. At 15, I didn't even know what an abortion was. My mother overheard our conversation, burst into the room and grabbed the phone from me. During their conversation, my sister convinced my mom that I needed to abort. I have no idea how she achieved this, because my mom had 9 children and was, as I said, very devout.
I was scared, so I made a "deal" with God: "Please help me to not be pregnant. If I'm not pregnant, I promise not to ever have sex out of marriage again."
That same sister took me to Planned Parenthood in Houston for a pregnancy test, where they confirmed my pregnancy, and I was in shock. They told me that at this stage of only five weeks, "it" was only a blob of tissue. They also suggested that I needed an abortion, since I was so young and still in school. I didn't know what questions to ask as far as other options. All that was discussed was abortion, and they referred me to another clinic to have one.
I was covered with shame and guilt, even before the abortion took place.
When I told the guy who raped me that I was pregnant and needed money for an abortion, he denied that he was the father, which deepened my shame. However, under pressure from my sister, he decided to tell everyone in school so he could gather money to pay for the abortion, and handed my sister a wad of 1's and 5's.
When I told the guy who raped me that I was pregnant and needed money for an abortion, he denied that he was the father, which deepened my shame. However, under pressure from my sister, he decided to tell everyone in school so he could gather money to pay for the abortion, and handed my sister a wad of 1's and 5's.
Around October, 1983, my Mom and sister took me to the abortion facility. My Dad was never told until more than 20 years later. My Mom, like me, knew absolutely nothing of what an abortion actually did to a baby or the woman, but she knew enough to hide it from my Dad.
The first thing I remember is that my mother was appalled, having noticed that there were women in the waiting room who were far along in their pregnancies, and she said to me, "What are all of these women doing in here? They look like they are about to deliver."
My sister handled the paperwork, but my Mom and sister were not allowed into the counseling room. The older woman there advised me that because I was so young and so small, I might not be able to have children later in life. But marriage and children were the furthest thing from my mind in the moment and I was not afforded the benefit of having my mother there for me to help me make an informed decision.
In hindsight, I believe this was the first open door God gave me to not go through with it. I really believe that, had my mom been in the room with me, we would have left.
The next thing I remember is being on the hard, cold abortion table. I was never introduced to the doctor. I just remember that he was a man. As the nurse was prepping me, I could hear my mother's voice at the door, asking, "Is my daughter in there?", then her being told, "Ma'am, you cannot come in here." We never discussed it since, but I believe my Mom was wanting to get me out of there -- the second open door.
I was told to focus on a baby mobile hanging from the ceiling. Now that I look back on it, I see how sadistic that was.
I could hear and feel everything that was happening to me. I'd never been to a gynecologist before, and I felt like my entire insides were being ripped out of me. I've heard it said that abortion is like rape, and it's true, but worse than rape because of the devastating level of violence involved. The violence and pain of the abortion are more extreme in my memory than the violence and pain of the rapes.
I was bleeding profusely when I left. My Mom and sister took me to a restaurant, but I passed out on my plate because I was so physically and emotionally exhausted. After that, the subject of abortion was taboo with them.
The first thing I remember is that my mother was appalled, having noticed that there were women in the waiting room who were far along in their pregnancies, and she said to me, "What are all of these women doing in here? They look like they are about to deliver."
My sister handled the paperwork, but my Mom and sister were not allowed into the counseling room. The older woman there advised me that because I was so young and so small, I might not be able to have children later in life. But marriage and children were the furthest thing from my mind in the moment and I was not afforded the benefit of having my mother there for me to help me make an informed decision.
In hindsight, I believe this was the first open door God gave me to not go through with it. I really believe that, had my mom been in the room with me, we would have left.
The next thing I remember is being on the hard, cold abortion table. I was never introduced to the doctor. I just remember that he was a man. As the nurse was prepping me, I could hear my mother's voice at the door, asking, "Is my daughter in there?", then her being told, "Ma'am, you cannot come in here." We never discussed it since, but I believe my Mom was wanting to get me out of there -- the second open door.
I was told to focus on a baby mobile hanging from the ceiling. Now that I look back on it, I see how sadistic that was.
I could hear and feel everything that was happening to me. I'd never been to a gynecologist before, and I felt like my entire insides were being ripped out of me. I've heard it said that abortion is like rape, and it's true, but worse than rape because of the devastating level of violence involved. The violence and pain of the abortion are more extreme in my memory than the violence and pain of the rapes.
I was bleeding profusely when I left. My Mom and sister took me to a restaurant, but I passed out on my plate because I was so physically and emotionally exhausted. After that, the subject of abortion was taboo with them.
Emotionally, I spiraled into a very destructive behavior of drugs, alcohol and promiscuous sex almost immediately following the abortion. I was completely spiritually void, rebelling against my Christian upbringing. I also became emotionally numb, with not much regard for living at all.
As I was going through the motions, trying to fill this huge void within me, I attached myself to an abusive relationship less than a year after the abortion, and I eventually married him at age 19.
As I was going through the motions, trying to fill this huge void within me, I attached myself to an abusive relationship less than a year after the abortion, and I eventually married him at age 19.
The abortion did in fact ruin all chances of having children. I suffered 5 miscarriages during my marriage of 18 years, which resulted in divorce. Three of these miscarriages were tubal pregnancies, requiring emergency surgery and very near-death experiences. I so wanted an "atonement" baby to make up for the one I killed.
At the age of 32, having suffered low self-esteem from the rapes, the abortion, the shame, the abusive marriage, the loss of my babies, and my infertility, I attempted suicide. The experience of the abortion did not make the rape experience any better, but drove me into a much darker place, and I realize I'd been suffering from clinical depression all of those years.
God then began drawing me close to Him through listening to Christian music on the radio. As the Lord was filling me with this influence of His Truth, I gave my heart back to Christ, and the radio became my Church. I even committed myself to quit smoking.
One day, on my local Christian radio station, they happened to be holding was what was called the world's largest baby shower, benefiting local pregnancy resource centers. I heard a woman speaking about the centers, and I knew I had to pick up the phone, call her, and make myself available to tell other women never to have an abortion. I realized that God had been working on me to see that so many of my struggles in life were caused by my abortion.
Up to that point, I'd still considered myself to be pro-choice, because I felt like I had been forced into an abortion and wasn't really given a choice.
As I visited the pregnancy resource center in central Houston, the director asked me if I'd ever had an abortion, and breaking my silence, I told her. In order to volunteer, I was told I had to go through their post-abortion healing study called "Beauty For Ashes." It sounded so refreshing to hear that something like this existed!
This study saved my life. My abusive husband didn't want me going. He didn't want me volunteering at the center. It was a battle to come back to the Lord, but I received so much healing through this study. I got to name each of my six babies, and God healed me to be able to minister to other people and change my life.
During this time, I'd also begun attending church with my Dad. As I said, he was an evangelist, so I was too fearful to ever tell him about the abortion, until almost 20 years later as I was going through this study. When I told him, he was devastated that he had lost a grandchild. He said to me, "If I had known I had a grandchild, I would have raised that baby myself."
At the age of 32, having suffered low self-esteem from the rapes, the abortion, the shame, the abusive marriage, the loss of my babies, and my infertility, I attempted suicide. The experience of the abortion did not make the rape experience any better, but drove me into a much darker place, and I realize I'd been suffering from clinical depression all of those years.
God then began drawing me close to Him through listening to Christian music on the radio. As the Lord was filling me with this influence of His Truth, I gave my heart back to Christ, and the radio became my Church. I even committed myself to quit smoking.
One day, on my local Christian radio station, they happened to be holding was what was called the world's largest baby shower, benefiting local pregnancy resource centers. I heard a woman speaking about the centers, and I knew I had to pick up the phone, call her, and make myself available to tell other women never to have an abortion. I realized that God had been working on me to see that so many of my struggles in life were caused by my abortion.
Up to that point, I'd still considered myself to be pro-choice, because I felt like I had been forced into an abortion and wasn't really given a choice.
As I visited the pregnancy resource center in central Houston, the director asked me if I'd ever had an abortion, and breaking my silence, I told her. In order to volunteer, I was told I had to go through their post-abortion healing study called "Beauty For Ashes." It sounded so refreshing to hear that something like this existed!
This study saved my life. My abusive husband didn't want me going. He didn't want me volunteering at the center. It was a battle to come back to the Lord, but I received so much healing through this study. I got to name each of my six babies, and God healed me to be able to minister to other people and change my life.
During this time, I'd also begun attending church with my Dad. As I said, he was an evangelist, so I was too fearful to ever tell him about the abortion, until almost 20 years later as I was going through this study. When I told him, he was devastated that he had lost a grandchild. He said to me, "If I had known I had a grandchild, I would have raised that baby myself."
Abortion was the most selfish decision I ever made in my whole life. It affected everyone in my life and caused devastation to my mind, soul and body. It caused the loss of my five other babies, my infertility, and I'm also convinced it caused me to get breast cancer at the age of 45 in 2014. Research has proven that abortion can cause breast cancer -- especially early onset.
There is healing for broken hearts and lives after abortion, through the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ. His work at the Cross of Calvary removes all shame, bitterness, self hatred and sin, if we only believe and receive Him in our hearts.
I pray that anyone reading this testimony who is considering abortion for their self or someone else would consider seeking help through a pregnancy care center that will share the truth in love about all of your options. I'm convinced that if anyone had taken me to a pregnancy care center, I would not have had an abortion.
I want everyone to know that abortion doesn't fix rape, and the experience of abortion is more damaging physically and emotionally than the rape itself. My child had every right to life and I would do anything in my power to have that child in my arms, or to be able to hand that baby to a loving couple.
I want everyone to know that abortion doesn't fix rape, and the experience of abortion is more damaging physically and emotionally than the rape itself. My child had every right to life and I would do anything in my power to have that child in my arms, or to be able to hand that baby to a loving couple.
BIO: Nona Lynn Ellington is a pro-life speaker and writer, residing in Houston,
Texas. Her ministry is Eagles Restoration Ministries. She spoke at the Family Research Council press conference in DC in March, 2016, the day before the Texas HB2 US Supreme Court hearing. Her name and story, along with many others, was on the amicus brief filed with the high court by The Justice Foundation. Nona is now a blogger for Save The 1 and available for speaking and testifying before legislatures. Watch a video of her sharing her post-abortive from rape testimony
Friday, September 11, 2015
I Miscarried After Being Raped -- The Truth Is, I Long For That Child, by Becky Dunlap
My story, for His Glory . . . . Please be aware there are parts that I have never before told. God is giving me a voice and strength to tell more as He helps me process through parts that I've kept hidden. It's in the truth that God sets us free.
When I was 13 I had a best friend. She and I did everything and went everywhere together. Our lives pretty much revolved around our friendship and youth group. We were inseparable. If I wasn't at her house, she was at my house. Her mom had her baby brother when we were in 7th grade and we pretty much "mothered" that little baby boy. I have always been infatuated with babies, even when I was a really little girl. I remember meeting him in the hospital the day he was born and his little wrinkled toes and legs were just so precious.
The summer before 8th grade, my friend went for a month or so to stay with her dad in a different state. One night I babysat her baby brother and other young brother so her mom and her mom's live-in boyfriend could go out. Around 12am I started to get worried. I didn't like the dark, and being only 13, that was a late time at night to still be babysitting. Her family was very poor too so they lived in a beat down trailer that had mice. I started counting down the minutes for them to return.
They finally returned and the boyfriend said he was taking me home. I lived up a hill heading out of town. When we got closer to my house, he sped up and drove right past my house. I told him he had passed my house and he told me to shut up. By that time, I was screaming and had no idea where we were going. He drove down around curvy winding roads, for what seemed like a long time. It was so dark outside and I was terrified. He pulled off the road into some gated off parking lot. It was surrounded by trees and bushes. I was somewhat aware of where we must be because of the winding roads, but I was far from home and really disoriented. He began pulling and tugging at my clothing trying to undress me. The more I resisted the more forceful he became.
I still remember every single detail. At the time, I wasn't sure if I was going to live or not. I sobbed uncontrollably and begged him over and over to please just take me home, repeating that I didn't want to have sex with him and I just wanted to go home. He told me to shut up and that no one could hear me and no one would find me out there. I remember looking around and wanting to try to get out of the car, but I was so afraid. He was violent and I was scared to death.
When he was done raping me, he drove me home and as we winded around all the bends he told me to never tell anyone and that if I did, I would get it. He dropped me off at home, I went to my parents bedroom, stuck my head in the door and said “I’m home.” Then I went to my room, hid my clothes way down in the back of my bottom drawer, and went to bed.
I didn't tell my parents or anyone else except my best friend -- who then told her mom. I was scared every single time the phone rang that it would be my friend's mom, and that she would tell my parents. She told me I should tell them. I waited 3 months to tell anyone. It was summer time and my family spent a lot of time out on the lake boating/skiing/tubing and everyone was having so much fun. I thought that if I told them about the awful night, it would ruin our fun times and ruin my family.
A couple weeks after being raped, my period was late. I was concerned I might be pregnant, but I didn’t want to tell my parents because I knew they would be upset. About a month later, there was still no period.
My family went to Pennsylvania to visit my grandparents and extended family. My friend Crystal came with me. We rode my pony (which my grandparents kept when we moved when I was 10.) Later that day, I started having stomach pains and started bleeding. I told my mom and friend I had started my period, but inside I was terrified -- terrified I was miscarrying. I still wasn’t sure I was pregnant, since I hadn't taken a pregnancy test to confirm it. I thought I probably was since I knew when my period was due and I knew enough to understand that I could get pregnant from him raping me. Bleeding and in terrible pain -- not like a normal period, I thought that I had caused a miscarriage because I rode the pony. Over the next night and following day, I continued to have stomach pains and passed large blood clots. At 13, I still wasn’t sure at this point if it was so bad because I hadn’t had my period for several months, or if I was having a miscarriage. After that day, the pain subsided and I continued to bleed for 14 days straight. I never told a soul. I didn’t really understand what had happened to me, but I thought it was my fault.
On the first day of school that year, we met all our teachers. I knew that day that my English teacher was someone I could confide in. She was a beautiful woman who was strong, sweet and tender, and she said the words that I so needed to hear. She stood in front of class and told us that if any of us ever had a problem, if we ever had something terrible that we needed someone to tell, then she would accept them and help them.
I felt sick that day -- a nervous sick, knowing that I might someday be able to tell my secret. Within a month into the year, my English teacher gave us an assignment to write a paper that was to be about three wishes. Being my sweet, tender little self (I really did have a heart for people,) I wrote about how 1 - I wished that everyone in the world would be saved, 2 - there would never be anymore world war. and 3 - "that" would have never happened to me. I didn't even know then that what had happened was called rape. I just knew he forced me to have sex and that it was wrong. As I wrote about that 3rd wish, my handwriting got so bad that it was hard to read, and I remember being so sick and nervous because I was finally letting the terrible secret out.
The wait until my teacher read and graded our papers was hard. I kept asking her if she had read them. Finally one day I handed her a folded up piece of paper that said "I need to talk to you sometime." She called me into the hall that day and it went from there -- I told her everything. She was precious with me. She cried, she held my hand, she listened, and she asked me questions. She convinced me that I had to tell my parents. Giving her the go ahead, she called my mom and dad from the school.
My dad had a dentist appointment so he went to that and my mom came in to the school. My teacher told her, and then my mom and I went home and told my dad. My parents were heartbroken. They quickly pressed charges. Later that English paper became part of evidence for the trial. Once the man was arrested and taken to jail, the girl who was my best friend became very angry with me. She passed horrible rumors around my school lying and calling me names. Along with what had happened to me, I was hurting so much from losing my best friend.
The next year was a continuation of the nightmare. By the time we actually started the court trial (there had been some delays with our lawyer who was working on a murder case so court was postponed a couple times,) it had been nine months since the rape. I remember looking over to the man in the court room and I actually felt sad for him. I had my family, but he was so alone and I just thought of how lost he was -- how incredibly lost he had to have been to ever consider doing something so awful to a 13 year old girl.The day of trial, he ended up agreeing to a plea bargain. He went before the judge to explain what he did to me, but then began to lie saying he thought I was 16. The judge got angry, stopped him and told him he needed to talk to his lawyer again and get his story straight. So they took the break, he came back out, then admitted to what he did to me. The original charges had been for 1st degree sodomy and rape of a minor, and the plea bargain was for up to two years for a reduced sexual abuse charge. He ultimately ended up serving less than 8 months. Running into him at a store in town, I remember feeling really awful, sick and scared, while my father was absolutely furious. Looking back, I understand that the prosecutors were wanting to spare me the trauma of a trial, but I think a trial would have been better than knowing he was free in my community. I knew he'd raped an 18 year old girl before. Instead of being there to testify at the trial, her family instead chose to pack up and move out of town that day, so the prosecutor lost a key witness.
Starting in 10th grade, I went to counseling. I didn't sleep well during those years, so I would read my bible and journal to God late into the night. God was faithful to me and He was very close. I had this connection with Him because of my pain that went deep. Sometimes it felt like I could reach out and touch Him, other nights I would beg and cry for Jesus to please just come in person and hold me. One night as I was crying out to God at a little reservoir by my house (I went there often at night to pray and talk to God,) God showed me a vision of Jesus on the cross. I could see the pain and the sacrifice, and for the first time, I felt deep sadness that my sin had nailed Him there. God spoke to me and reminded me that He died for that man who had raped me too. That night, He helped me to forgive my offender completely.
During my time in counseling, I was able to finally tell my counselor about the possibility that I had been pregnant by rape and miscarried. I also told one of my church youth leaders, but her response was really hurtful to me. She said, “Becky you wouldn’t have wanted a baby with that man, it would have been a constant reminder of that monster. God took care of that for you.” Her words deeply wounded my soul because I adored babies. God had wired me to long for and look forward to becoming a mother from a very young age, so I couldn’t accept that to be true that God would have created a child, then taken that child from me just because I'd been raped. After being wounded by those words, I vowed to never tell anyone else about the possible miscarriage, thinking no one else could ever understand. Years later, as a mom to several children, I finally talked with my friend and midwife about what had happened -- the missed periods, the pain, the blood clots, and the prolonged bleeding. She confirmed that what had happened sounded like a miscarriage.
Over the years that followed, I've found healing and hope that could have only come from Jesus. Time helps, but time doesn't truly heal -- only Jesus's work in us can over time heal our wounds. I've found Jesus to be a comfort to me when I was hurting, strength to me when I've been too weak to go on, light when all I could see was dark, peace when I'm afraid, patience when I try to walk alone. I truly don't think I could have walked through the valley of the shadow of death without God there to hold my hand, to tell me I could go on, and to show me the way.
In the last couple months, God has put His finger on the miscarriage again. With all the Planned Parenthood scandal surfacing, God has shown me that He wants to heal me deeper and especially relating to the miscarriage. At 38 years old, after 25 years, I am finally now accepting that loss and feeling the grief that I never allowed myself to experience. I’m allowing myself to grieve the loss that wasn’t safe to grieve back then. Whether or not anyone else can comprehend this, the truth is, I long for that child. I want to have a voice for that baby, especially after keeping this hidden for all these years. Though I am at home with my 6 beautiful children today, there isn't a child who can replace another. So I still long for and wish I could have that child who I never get to hold.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would have been like had I carried that baby to term and birthed him/her. I’m aware that it would have completely changed my life, that I would as a child be growing up with that child. I also know without a shadow of a doubt that God created that baby and had I carried him/her, God would have given me everything I would have needed to love that child.
I don’t for a second think of abortion as an option for rape. Had I continued and decided for an abortion, I would have only introduced a deeper trauma, a greater amount of pain, and more evil on top of an already evil act. Nothing about abortion would have helped my situation. That baby had as much a right to live as I do. I feel like God has given me a greater passion lately for both the girls/women who are hurting and broken due to rape, and a desire to have a voice for the unborn babies conceived in rape. Life is precious, all lives are precious and all are created and given by God, the giver of life. Last week, I named that baby Zechariah, which in Hebrew means “Yahweh Remembers.” I take comfort knowing that my God indeed remembers.
God had deepened my understanding of just how present and close He was with me the night I was raped. Nothing went from the hands of that man to my body that didn't first go through the body of Jesus. God gave me a vision where I saw that man's hands reach towards me and go straight through the back of Jesus before touching me. It was like God was a human shield and He felt everything I felt. In my darkest hour, the most terrifying night of my life, I lay there being stripped of all my dignity, in complete raw and utter helplessness and loss of control, being laughed at and told no one would hear my cries for help, and I felt alone. But God didn't just watch as a bystander "present" with me, He entered into my pain and experienced what I experienced. My tears were not the only tears shed that night. For years, I would look back on that night and all I could see was my ugly naked body. In my eyes, I was tainted and felt ashamed. God spoke to me and revealed to me that I was captivating to Him. (Captivating is the meaning of my name Rebecca). He told me that He SAW my naked body lying there, He SAW me being wounded and broken, and He saw my body as beautiful. He didn't have to look away, cover His eyes or shudder like I had imagined. He watched, he felt, he SAW and He too was broken. We were one. I wasn’t alone.
This wasn’t unfamiliar ground for Him though. It makes me think about what it must have been like for my precious Jesus, the night He endured the cross. There was no darker night than that, the night he was stripped of His clothing, beaten and bruised, laid on a cross naked, laughed at, mocked. People questioned why His God wouldn't save Him. It is comforting to know Jesus knows the pain and anguish I felt that night. He too experienced the stripping of clothes, but even more so the stripping of His heart. He too questioned where His Father was, and He too had a Father that felt every tear, every drop of sweat and blood that fell from His brow. Nothing touched Him that night on the cross that didn't first go through the hand of His Father, God. He wasn’t alone, nor was I alone. Realizing I wasn't raped alone, knowing that He chose to go there with me, knowing He experienced what I experienced, deepens my understanding of His love for me. He chooses to go into the valleys with us. He isn't afraid of our mess, He knows our humanness and loves us in it.
Jesus created us, and He knows our deepest parts. Nothing is hidden from Him. He knows us outwardly and He knows us inwardly. He knows what's been hidden in the dark and what is seen openly. He knows the memories, the shame, the brokenness. Not a moment does He turn His eyes away. He knows exactly what happened that night, and exactly what it felt like. He too cried every tear, spoke every plea, felt every touch. He experienced it on the cross, and He experienced it with me. And as my Creator, My Father, the One who loves me most, how it must have hurt Him. I am deeply grateful for His love, His faithfulness and His healing. I am grateful that He doesn't just discard our broken places but instead He brings beauty for ashes. He restores all that satan takes from us. He redeems it all.
BIO: Becky Dunlap is a wife of 17 years and a stay-at-home mom to 6 children. She blogs at www.the8dunlap.blogspot.com, and is a blogger for Save The 1.
BIO: Becky Dunlap is a wife of 17 years and a stay-at-home mom to 6 children. She blogs at www.the8dunlap.blogspot.com, and is a blogger for Save The 1.
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