Obedience vs. Opposition

There is a reason it has been a while since my last post. Opposition. I have faced a great deal of opposition in the past weeks. Even in this very moment as I try to write I am getting diagnostic pop-ups from my computer stating there is an unknown problem! I am going to get this post written if it kills me! J

 
Remember my first post? How I mentioned that I knew I had to act in obedience to the prompting of writing my story? My senior pastor, Craig Groeschel, said “If you’re not ready to face opposition for your obedience to God, you’re not ready to be used by God.”

 

You see, the story of forgiveness is so powerful! I am by no means a Biblical scholar; but I know opposition when I see it. It is not from God! What IS from God is the supernatural miracle he performed on my heart by taking away the un-forgiveness I harvested against my abuser! If you’ve read my past 3 posts you’d know that was described in my previous post. If you haven’t read it you should because it is a great miracle! God's credit!

 

In the beginning I know I said I didn’t want to write too preachy’ and turn away my friends/ readers that had different religious beliefs. I have decided I cannot sugar coat what my God has done for me! I hope that my vibrancy and bold faith doesn’t turn you away! Everything I say is meant to be coated in love! I love you and believe strongly against religious chains!

 

All that to say, recently after sharing the miracle I faced opposition! Likewise, I faced many trials and temptation immediately after the miracle. The enemy, Satan, was pissed! (Yes I said pissed and I am talking about God!?! If you read that and thought I was going to hell for writing that -you are the exact definition of religious chains I mentioned above haha.) The enemy didn’t want me healed! He didn’t want me to forgive my abuser! He wanted me to harvest hatred and bitterness! He wanted the abuse to destroy my whole life! But, what happened? God battled for me!

At that time in my life I was weaker in my faith and didn’t know how to combat this spiritual warfare like I do now.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12”

Today, I will combat this spiritual warfare and put on the full armor of God like the following verse 13 states! I will continue to write! I ask that you lift my family and I up in prayer as I continue to unfold my story! As this may sound like a selfish request you, should know that the blog statistics have told me that there are readers not only in the United States; but in Australia, United Kingdom, Uganda, Germany, Italy, and Honduras! The first time I read those statistics I was in awe and humbled of what God was doing! So lift up the writer and the readers! Let’s BREAK BONDAGE people! Hahaha!

I wrote a more on my story via my phone app and it was lost! I think that this post was to stand alone! Take a stand with me against opposition! I am facing opposition but I am ready to continue to be used by God! Thus, I continue on this journey in obedience! Come along for the ride!

I Forgave My Abuser

After the first breakdown, I continued on with my therapy at Laureate. I remember mainly talking about my teenage “urgent” problems and continual treatment of anorexia. Like many victims of abuse, I struggled a great deal with self-image. I was so sick. I was convinced that I looked huge in the mirror! I weighed 96lbs at one point. Which may not seem to be that small but it was for me. I look back in disgust and empathy all at the same time, knowing that I truly didn’t see the extent of my sickness.

Thankfully, I was a part of an amazing youth group at a phenomenal church in Tulsa called First United Methodist Church (FUMC) at this time in my life. To this day I attribute much of my faith to the upbringing my family and I had at FUMC. FUMC Youth was known for mission trips for grades 6-12. We traveled mostly nationwide and some to Mexico. That summer we took our annual Mission Tour to Georgia I believe. I remember the campgrounds we stayed at clearly. We stayed at a summer camp with many cabins. I remember there were a lot of trees surrounding the area; which I remember to look like tall Christmas tree-like trees. I remember riding a yellow school bus through the hills and valleys. I remember passing the trees early in the morning on our way to the mission site, where we were restoring homes, and the sunlight cutting through the branches.

This trip was only one of approximately sixteen mission trips I took with FUMC (several of course were mere micro missions). The memories often blend altogether. But this trip I remember clearly for two reasons.

One night, after we all showered, ate, and were wrapping up the evening worship in the outdoor tabernacle I felt a huge move in my heart. I felt compelled to tell my mother, who was a volunteer leader on the trip, what I had shared with my therapist. I was so scared to tell her. After all, I had only told one person! But it was SO heavy on my heart! I knew I had to follow through with what God was placing on my heart. Hesitating, I grabbed another volunteer leader; the youth called her Momma Dubie, and told her about my abuse and my longing to share with my mom that night. Momma Dubie was so shocked. She said she would go with me to speak with my mother but wanted it to come from me. 

It was dark outside and you could see the beautiful stars peeking through the tall tree tops. The campgrounds were filled with lightened spirits after our worship service. I slowly approached my mom. Before, I could even reach her I began trembling and tears streamed down my cheeks as I locked eyes with her. She looked at me and then at Momma Dubie and I’m guessing from the look on our face she knew we didn’t come with good news. Her voice trembled and she asked “Sarah, what’s going on?” I then, as you probably guessed, had breakdown number two!

I shared with her everything. She did what any loving mother would do and sobbed with me, held me, kissed my cheeks, and held me some more. I remember her voicing what seemed to be several different emotions at that time. I felt like a pop bottle that had been shaken up and ready to explode. Rather, I didn’t explode I released all the hidden crap I had bottled up for so long. By this time it was very late at night and I was an empty pop bottle… and my mom was clearly distraught. She and I loved on each other a bit more and quietly said our good nights as we walked towards our separate cabins.  

Momma Dubie then took me by arm and walked me towards our side by side cabins. She stopped as we approached the cabins and asked to pray over me. We sat down next to each other on the porch outside of the cabin with our backs leaning against the wall. She began to pray. We prayed for a while. Then Momma Dubie started sobbing. Wiping her tears she wrapped her arms around me and said “I don’t know how?” she wept more “… but I just heard from God… and he told me to not let go of you until you forgave the abuser… Sarah I couldn’t imagine forgiving such a thing… I’m so sorry. I think to move on with your life you have to forgive him?” In total transparency, my first thought after hearing what she had just said was “F*CK him! Forgive HIM? Impossible! He destroyed my life! He took my childhood from me! He is a sicko!...” 

Momma Dubie’s grip around me tightened and through her tears she prayed for hours over me.

It was then that what seemed to be impossible became possible. She prayed the words “Lord, I know Sarah can’t forgive the abuser on her own! Lord you’re going to have to take it from her!” {I have no other way of describing this so stay with me…} I looked up from my tear filled eyes, with Momma Dubies arms around me, and in an opening in the tree tops, where the stars were shining brightly, it was as if God himself reached through the opening and ripped the un-forgiveness out of my heart! That very instant I took a huge deep breath and gasped as if that bitterness and un-forgiveness was being tore and ripped from my very chest! My next breath of air filling my lungs was a feeling I did not recognize! I literally had NO ILL FEELINGS TOWARDS MY ABUSER! The same abuser I was cursing out in my head just moments before.

There was no other explanation. I doubted what had just happened. It was nearing 3 AM maybe I was hallucinating? So, naturally, I tried being mad at the abuser again… It didn’t work?! I tried again! Nothing? What was this? What? WHAT Just happened?

THIS. WAS. A. MIRACLE!

Taking another breath I turned around with a questioned look facing Momma Dubie. She smiled through her tears and said “He(God) took it from you! I felt it!!!”

 

I literally felt so light and so free! I felt this amazing peace I had NEVER felt- it was completely foreign to me! I can’t even put it into words! I am trying to blog about this but I cannot even give credit through words of the peace I felt!

You see why I remember that campground so well? One, I finally told my mother of my abuse. Two, a miracle was performed on my heart- I forgave my abuser!!!! The next morning on the bus the rays of sunlight cut through the branches and I saw hope in the world. A tangible hope.

It has been close to fifteen years since I sat with my back against that cabin on that porch on those campgrounds. Yet, I remember it clearly. To this day I have no bitterness towards my abuser! In fact, without disclosing too much, I see him occasionally. I have prayed for him and actually have compassion for what made him do what he did? I bet this sounds bizarre? I know not all forgiveness comes in this form. I will share more- possibly an even greater forgiveness story in a future post.

I have more of my story to write and share. But this is a huge post to digest.

 {Sidebar I ask that you pray for me and my family. Since I have taken this step to write my story, and possibly help another, we have faced some opposition. I refuse to let the opposition take us down. Our God is greater!}

Beauty In The Breakdown

 

Blogging is so new to me! It is like teaching a grandma how to use the Internet or a baby to crawl! Hah! All to say this is continually evolving. Roll with the punches.

I want to take a brief second to tell everyone thank you from the bottom of my heart who sent me messages, comments, like'd my Facebook link, posts, texts, kind words, and followed me (I am not sure I know what all that entitles haha). Being this vulnerable about my experience on the www is a more than a bit scary! So, thank you so much! Don't stop! Words of Affirmation are my love language and I appreciate it more than you know!

 

Beauty In The Breakdown

 

Over the past two days, I have pondering what to write next. What follows my previous post? I promised to be real. So I am going straight for it despite the dreadful turning in my stomach.

I was a sexually molested as a child for many consecutive years. I never told anyone. Not a soul!

· Disclaimer: I would like to note that the identification of the abuser in this blog will not be disclosed at any time. However, I would like to clarify. (Remember in my last post I shared my fear of exposing anyone and their family and causing any hurt?) This, I pray, will be the only time I will address this on my blog. The abuser is NOT in my immediate family! I would like to address at this time that I couldn’t ask for better parents and brothers throughout this battle. I would like to steer clear from this topic from this point on as it is not relevant to the purpose in which I felt lead to write.

I remember, like it was yesterday, the first time I told anyone. It was so surreal. I was sitting in a therapist's office at Laureate in Tulsa,OK.

When you keep abuse of that nature a secret, for so long, it takes over your life, controls your thoughts, and redirects your self worth. I didn’t know it at the time, but the abuse was the root issue to why I was seeing a therapist. I was only a teenager. I may have been 13 or 14 I do not recall. Laureate was known to be one of the best treatment centers for eating disorders in the nation. So, of course, my loving parents enrolled me in outpatient therapy immediately following school. After my first heart break from church camp (juvenile I know) I began skipping meals. Skipping meals soon wasn't enough so I added diet pills. When I ran out I stole money from my parents and bought more. One night my parents caught on to one of their kids stealing from them. Before I fessed up to my parents my best friend, Sarah Thompson, gave me an ultimatum. She told me she realized I went through a bottle of 120 diet pills in a week, I was stealing from my parents, my previously tight clothes were sagging, and my hair was falling out.  Sarah told me that if I didn't tell the school nurse or my parents by 3rd hour she would fess up for me! I hated her then! But see her as an angel now. I thank God for Sarah Thompson.

 

All of the above landed me in the therapist office at Laureate where my first breakdown occurred. My first therapy session I was asked a series of questions for profiling purposes. I answered all the questions softly and quickly as the therapist filled out the paper work on her clipboard. Then, I was caught off guard. The therapist asked "... and has anyone ever touched you without your consent?" I froze. It was like the beige walls in her tiny office were caving in. She put the clipboard down. "Sarah" she sweetly called. "I'm going to ask you again, I want to remind you that anything you tell me stays in this room and it will not leave this room..." I remember tearing up staring down at the design in the carpet. It was so surreal. No one had ever asked me that before! Why would they? I thought about lying. But I was desperate to tell someone I knew couldn’t tell anyone. It was like I immediately trusted her because of the laws she was held by as a therapist. (Little did I know if the abuse was still occurring she would also be held by law to report it.) I broke down weeping in that office and felt freedom for the first time regarding this abuse. I told her the nitty griddy and ugly cried the whole session. Snot was all over the place. My eyes looked like the poster child for the "red  and itchy eye's" commercial!  But, I will tell you… There was beauty in that break down. A deep deep beauty. A weight was lifted off my shoulders. I didn't have to fight alone anymore. Looking back, I realize how sick I truly was. This was only step one. One of one million and it was still so freeing!

 

Anorexia was my way of dealing with the abuse. I am not a great resource but here is a good quick reference for Signs of Abuse.

In the next posts, I will tell you more about the further steps I took towards healing and about addition abuse I experienced.

 

Want to help Break Bondage? I challenge you, or someone you know that may be in need of healing, to confide in someone if you have dealt with similar abuse. The abused are not alone! And even more so, every 30 seconds another person becomes a victim of human trafficking! Of those people 99% are not rescued! I have learned that although I went through some tough crap- I am SO unbelievably blessed. I mentioned in my last post Christine Caine. She is one of many fighting against human trafficking, or modern slavery, and a victorious victim of abuse herself. At the conference she said “No one can do everything, but everyone can do something.” If you want to do something go here http://www.thea21campaign.org/

The Beginning

This is the beginning. However, I am not quite sure where to begin. To be honest... I am not sure of beginning to blog at all. Then why start? Well, about this time last year I went to a Women of Faith -One Day conference with some women in my Bible Study. It was at that conference, sitting in that auditorium's extremely uncomfortable chair; I felt a pulling in my very core. It was as if my all-so comfortable life was being challenged. I know that many of my friends on Facebook, or even friends in general, may not have the same religious opinions or values as I do, and my intention is not to turn you away from my writing ... so hang with me. I felt God, yes God tugging on my heart to do more. You see, I have been in a process of healing from some very, very deep wounds over the last 10 years. That is over a third of my life! The past few years I have experienced freedom from those wounds. Freedom so indescribable it is as if I was in bondage before! Like I can breathe again. Like my lungs were never really full until I breathed in this freedom! So as you can imagine, this tugging on my heart telling me to do more with my story wasn't easy. I knew in my heart I was being asked to break out from my comfort zone and be extremely transparent . . . to share my healing. I remember sitting in that seat and hearing Christine Caine speak and it was like the words coming out of her mouth were words I already knew deep inside me. I knew I was healed! I was healed from sexual abuse... but on the contrary so many others weren't. My heart started to hurt. I started to think of my life and the different path it would have taken had I not been healed. It was in that moment all I could visualize was a stage and I was on the wrong side of it. I wasn't supposed to sit and take in I was supposed to stand, take a stand, and give out. Does that make any sense? Yes, it has taken me a year to do this. There are many reasons why. Mainly selfish reasons like: I've been healed I don't want to go back and relive it. Or I don't want to use names of the sexual predator's which may hurt their family etc. Or being vulnerable out on the www about my life almost feels like putting a sign above my head that says "Judge Me". That my non-Christian friends will place me in the box with all the other jerk-nut judgmental 'Christians' for sharing what my God has done for my life... The list could go on... and on... You see? It's so uncomfortable. Here is the real deal. This blog will not JUST be about my healing. It will be about my life, about my faith walk, and truth be told- I am not quite sure what it will all look like. I promise to be me and be real. I just know that I had to take this first step of obedience to the beginning...