Tag Archives: Christ

The Root of Sin {My A-ha! Moment}

Lately I’ve been reading a lot about coming into a closer relationship with Christ. For years I’ve desired a closer relationship with Him, but haven’t really been willing to put in the work. You see, I really, really enjoy living in comfort. Pain isn’t all that enjoyable for me (who is it enjoyable for, really?) and I’ve worked hard to avoid it at all costs. This has included isolating myself from outsiders, hiding away in a closed room when I’ve sinned, refraining from prayer (what if God actually knew what I was thinking?) and running away from Christians whom I perceive as better than myself. (Afterall, I don’t need more reasons to feel bad about myself. I already know I’m a sinner!)

One of the biggest a-ha(!) moments I’ve had lately is that I sin because I don’t fully trust God. I want to do a lot of things on my own in order to earn my own salvation and please God. In his award-winning book Jesus Is, Judah Smith tackles this very subject. After relaying the story of the prodigal son, Smith reminds us that we’re often like children who want to earn our salvation, but we are never able to. Smith likens this attitude to a child who walks up to his father and says that he suddenly doesn’t deserve to be his son anymore. How asinine! The son has never been able to earn his place in the family. He did not choose his position in the family. The father did. Can you see the correlation between us trying to earn salvation and God having already chosen it for us? There is nothing we can do to earn it. God has already provided it for us. Why shouldn’t we trust Him and show our gratefulness to Him through obedience and trust? God has done nothing to harm us.

The Apostle Paul reminds us in the book of Romans, chapter 14, verse 23 that “Whatever is not from faith is sin.” (John Piper has an excellent sermon recorded on the website Desiring God on this very subject. I suggest you read it as soon as you’re able. It’s very compelling.) Paul is correct. When we’re not acting out of faith, we’re going to sin. When we trust ourselves to make “good” and “moral” decisions, we’re often caught in the throes of sin. Even the best of us make some pretty poor decisions sometimes. This grieves God, yet He’s not surprised by it.

Beth Moore has written a fabulous, life changing book entitled When Godly People Do Ungodly Things. In it, Moore discusses the spiritual battle behind our sin. I’ll admit I’m not yet finished with the book, as I’m reading it slowly and intentionally. I’m often so moved by her words that I find myself setting the book down and picking up my Bible to pair the passage with corresponding scripture. This has led to a deeper relationship with Christ and understanding of my own human nature. I’ve also come to understand the spiritual war behind sin and just how deceitful Satan is. God is so much more powerful, thankfully.

As I come to understand how Satan knocks us down and brings the seduction of sin to us, I find myself becoming more vigilant, more repentant, more eager to enter into deeper relationship with Christ. I want to trust Him more because I see, finally, how much more He has done for me than I could ever do for Him. I see the folly in trying to please a God that has given me everything I could ever and will ever need. He has already defeated Satan. He has already promised everlasting life. He has already promised victory over sin. I simply need to obey.

There is so little that I feel I can say on this subject because Christ has said and done it all. He came to earth as a little child to live among us and minister to us. He sacrificed His life for us. He conquered death for us. He rose to Heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead. I did none of these things. What more could I possibly say to persuade you or even myself to repent from sin and trust Christ with your life and your witness? He has done it. He has spoken. He was walked the walk to match the talk. I’m just working on it. Still.

Victim and Survivor Shaming Must Stop

Victim and survivor shaming must stop. It’s imperative to the health and welfare of all victims past and current of any type of abuse, domestic, emotional, spiritual and sexual, for the shaming to stop immediately. We must be allowed to tell our stories. We must be allowed to tell them accurately and as honestly as possible. We must be allowed to tell them as often as we feel called to. We must be allowed to tell them in public, online, in books, in stories, in private and to friends and family. We must be allowed to be heard, whether our abuser is a celebrity, family member, friend or stranger. We must not be continually questioned as to the validity of our statements. Even when something is remembered only partway, there is a valid reason for that – the event was traumatic and as a result, the formations in our brains were changed dramatically. Our brains may not want to retain the information, so it attempts to lock it away in a deep dark corner, like stuffing something revolting into the bottom of the trash in order to dispose of it entirely. There is no way to completely dispose of trauma, except to heal from it and move forward. Otherwise, we are stuck in a never-ending cycle of running from it only to find we’re actually running in circles, gaining no actual ground. There is no road behind us except that which is well worn by our own souls – the same sights, smells, tastes, memories on repeat.

When we’re allowed to tell our stories, we take the power away from the event little by little. We effectively state that we are no longer stuck in the past but are actively moving towards a brighter future. We build in our community, hope. For each survivor that speaks out, another victim is listening, gaining strength to someday break free from their own hell and begin to tell their own story. The path to healing is paved by the bravery of the freed survivors – those who were not silenced by hatred and shaming but spoke up anyway. I will be one of those that help pave the road for the next generation. I will be one of the brave and you who hate what I have to say will not stop me. My God gives me strength and in Christ, all things are possible. I will speak up for those who are too weak to speak for themselves. I will inspire the next generation to stand up and tell their story. I will no longer sit in shame, but will look you in the eyes and tell you my story. I am no longer a victim, but a survivor. You cannot take that from me.

Over the years, I have been told that I should not give pearls to swine and that by telling my story openly, I am giving pearls to swine. I respectfully disagree. By keeping my story secret and protecting the identity of my abuser, I am giving pearls to swine. I choose to take my pearls back. My abuser was not only my step-father, but several of his friends as well. Most of the abuse occurred while my mother was out of the home, tending to work or to my severely handicapped sister, Melissa. My step-father was very manipulative and found many avenues for gaining control over me. It seems that one of his favorites was to nurture me. Often times he’d turn children’s shows on the television – shows like Disney on Ice that were meant to fascinate me and hold my attention. He’d then call me onto his lap and proceed to molest me, his hands between my legs and my hands often between his, at his insistence. If I rejected him, I’d often be punished severely. I remember being cornered in a narrow hallway on a few occasions, his leather belt in hand. I’d refused him. He didn’t care for that too much. I learned my lesson. The next time I focused on the television show and did not resist him. I pretended I was somewhere else and that it was not me who has touching him, but someone else. This is how I coped. This is also how the abuse was allowed to go on for so long. My memories were deeply repressed and this abusive behavior became a way of life for me, like waking up and eating breakfast before going off to school. It was habit and I was overpowered, my choices removed from me before I even realized I had a choice to make. I’d also refer to this as brain washing.

It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble. Luke 17:2 (NIV)

I fully believe my step-father will answer to God for all of his sins against me. The Bible makes it clear that my step-father not only sinned against me, but against God Himself as well. That is a strong statement with lasting repercussions, and it’s one I believe whole-heartedly. If he doesn’t repent fully, I believe my step-father will burn in hell. I see him suffering now in his personal life with work, health, his continued marriage to my Mother, and his fractured relationships with family (his only son, my younger brother) and with friendships. There is a large part of me that finds satisfaction in his suffering, though I am aware that Christ is not pleased with my satisfaction. I pray daily for His Light to overcome the darkness in my heart. If Christ can forgive those who crucified Him, I too can forgive my abuser. I’m finding it’s a daily, if not hourly process. Each time I think I’ve fully forgiven him, my heart finds more bitterness and I lash out. It’s my intent to forgive but never forget.

Out of the pain of the past, it’s become difficult to trust others. In my own personal life, there are precious few who are allowed intimate glances into my daily life, and fewer still who are allowed to remain in my life for long periods of time. The time of abuse from my step-father and his friends has taught me to trust no one, and to keep no one around for long periods of time. Habits form when people are allowed to be near you. It gives people time to manipulate and brain wash you, therefore, relationships must be considered disposable in order to remain safe. This has been the most difficult thought process to overcome. I understand intellectually that it’s flawed and needs to be revised in order to live a full life, but it is one of the hardest for me to address on a consistent, daily basis. It is simply too painful. I will continue praying for Christ’s Light to overcome this darkness in my heart. Could you, reader, pray for me as well? This is a hard battle, and I’m not the only survivor walking it. This battle has threatened my marriage multiple times. I will not allow it to overtake me or my marriage, but I can’t do it alone. Neither can you. I continue seeking help.

Seeking help is another area I want to address in regards to victim and survivor shaming. Over the years, I’ve sought help from many different avenues. Some of them have been entirely appropriate – talk therapy, behavior modification counseling, psychiatry, Christian Bible-based counseling, support groups and prayer. Other avenues haven’t been nearly as successful, especially within friend groups, but they did often lead to other, more helpful solutions. I also gained a better understanding of who my true friends are, and who I am in Christ. The most painful avenues I took were speaking to close and personal friends, entrusting them with information, and then being told that I was too broken to formulate a lasting relationship with. I understand their point of view to an extent; however, the delivery was painful. We are all a broken people in one way or another. This is why we must live in community. We complete the beautiful picture that Christ has painted.

I’ve written many times on the struggles that I’ve overcome – homosexual tendencies, adultery, depression, suicide, addiction…these are nothing new within the sexual abuse survivor community. These are prevalent themes. They’re sins and they need to be addressed as such, but they’re also causes for deep concern. Why are these things happening to our youth? Why are so many survivors turning to harmful avenues as a way of healing from the pain of the past? I have a theory, but you probably won’t like it.
We’re being silenced, shamed, told to keep it quiet and move on, but we can’t. Our stories are banging on the walls, begging to be let out. We can’t move on until we can heal. We can’t do that until we can talk about it, explore the depths of what happened to us and be allowed to move on in our own time. I’ve been told by several professionals that for every year of trauma a survivor has endured, it takes an equal amount of years to heal from that. We can’t even begin to heal until we’ve been effectively heard.

In the news, we’re reading about celebrities abusing youth and we turn our heads and scoff at the victims and the abusers. We make jokes about it and quote famous lines from movies, TV and commercials. It becomes funny to us, but it’s deeply harmful to the victims. I’ve been on both sides of this, and it’s disgusting no matter where you stand.

Satan has twisted scripture for so long and has whispered lies into so many ears. He’s using sexual sins, among others, to rampantly overtake the world. He’s started with the innocent children, molding them into confused, scared little people who grow up to pray on the children they’re entrusted to protect. It’s a rabid hamster running around in the same wheel, in the same putrid cage, breeding and killing it’s own off-spring. We have to treat that rabid hamster, no matter how disgusting he really is on the inside. We have to do it without killing the off-spring and without silencing their cries for help. Each person needs their own space to heal, their own space to tell their stories and their own space to carve out a life for themselves. We cannot continue to group survivors in with the abusers, nor can we continue to ignore either’s cry for help. I know, this is a controversial statement, but it’s one that needs to be made. Perhaps if my step-father had received the help he desperately needed, he would not have abused me, my handicapped sister and my younger brother. Perhaps if we have been removed from the home, we could’ve healed sooner and more effectively. Perhaps if more victims and survivors’ voices were heard, there would be less abuse and more action towards ending it.

I do not propose that simply hearing our stories will end all abuses, but I do propose that it will end for us, the cycle of abuse and begin the path to effective healing. We need more success stories and more survivors to find their voices and call out for action. We need more bravery and less cowardice. Join me now in sharing your stories. Stop protecting your abuser. Speak out and speak up!

My simple prayer for you: May God bless you in your endeavors to tell your story and heal from the horrors of your past. In Christ’s Name. Amen.

Today Is A Gift!

Today is a gift

Brothers and Sisters, today I just wanted to remind you that today is a gift from the Lord! Whatever your worries, whatever your struggles, the Lord is aware of them. He has given you this day as a gift and wants you to deeply rest in Him, trusting in His providence and sovereignty. Take some time today to remember all the Lord has done for you and know that there is still so much yet to come.

Let’s Pray:

Heavenly Father, today I lift up to You all who feel burdened by heavy worries. I ask You to surround these brave souls with Your loving care. Place a hedge of protection around them. Surround them with Your people who will remind them to slow down and enjoy the preordained blessings of this beautiful day that You have created. In Christ’s Precious Name I pray. Amen.

Your sister in Christ,

Mandy 🙂

The Moment I Chose To Be Straight

This morning while browsing my Facebook feed, I came upon a Huffington Post article entitled “The Moment I Knew I Was LGBT: Whisper Users Reveal Their Time Of Self-Discovery”. Naturally, I commented from my point of experience and spoke about the moment I knew I was choosing to turn from sin and be straight. And Facebook took it down, citing it as violating their intellectual  rules. Naturally, I was appalled. Why should only one side be allowed to be heard? What rules did I violate? I still don’t understand.

This was my response that Facebook deleted: I knew I was straight when I realized how deeply I’d fallen into sin and all the dreams I’d have to give up in order to continue the gay lifestyle. I was never willing to sacrifice being a mother or a wife. I was never willing to sacrifice service to the Church or a relationship with Christ, where I didn’t feel ashamed for my actions every day. I knew I was straight and would continue to walk that path when I was 22 years old. I still struggle sometimes, but I know that with God’s help, I will never turn back to that sin.

I’ve shared my struggle here as well: My Fight With Homosexuality

It angers me that the media is all for human rights, but is so against allowing both sides to be heard. When someone like me speaks out compassionately in a direction other than full on support and worship of the LGBT community, we are attacked and accused of being a bigot or worse. It’s deemed as hate speech, yet anyone and everyone in the LGBT community is free to spew hate upon us, to speak openly about the moment they knew they were gay, and to conduct peaceful demonstrations demanding “equal rights”. This is appalling behavior! We are now undergoing another type of segregation – gay versus straight. We see this in dance clubs, social groups, bars, political non-profit groups and even in the occasional church community. If I am not 100% in support of and worship the LGBT community, I must be eliminated from their presence. I call for 100% integration and for liars to be silenced.

Christ did not die so that the LGBT community may live. He died so that all may live. He died to pay for the very sins that are being openly committed today by not only the LGBT community, but by each of us as well, which is why I’m so frustrated to hear that calling out homosexual behavior as sin is taboo. Should we stop calling dishonesty, murder, greed, coveting, theft, pornography, pedophilia and adultery sins? Gay, straight, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, etc…we all have committed at least one of those sins. Why is one sin more protected than the others? Is it that we somehow feel more at peace with ourselves if we’re allowed to keep just one vice active and acceptable?

It’s understandable that the LGBT community uses love as an excuse for sinful behavior. Love is something we all need and desire, however, we can murder an abusive spouse in the name of love, steal a loaf of bread for our hungry families, lie about the whereabouts of our criminal family members to law enforcement and even rape children in the name of “love” but we’ll still go to jail for it. It’s still a crime and a sin, so why are we allowing an entire community of people to use love as an excuse for sinful behavior?

Furthermore, I see the forces of evil hard at work in the sex industry. It seems to be one of the most prominent seeds of destruction in the United States today. This is the first generation where children have been able to carry pornography in their pockets and have it readily available. The past 70 years, sex crimes have been steadily increasing as well as the rates of divorce, child abuse and sexually transmitted diseases. I don’t intend to sound like a prude here, however, sex is killing our population and the devil is loving it.

There are no easy answers as to how we combat this problem, however, there are some simple ones. We need to turn to Christ and repent of our sins – all of them. I have reaped immense blessings from turning away from the sin of homosexuality. We need to educate our children on the dangers of pornography, sex outside of marriage and homosexual behaviors. We need to compassionately speak out for Christ and repentance. Each of us has had a sin that’s been tough to turn from. In this area, we can sympathize with someone who is struggling with sexual sin. And finally, we need to hold each other accountable. For each person we encounter who is engaged in sin, we should be speaking the Gospel to them.

All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.

2 Timothy 3:16-17 NIV

We know that God wants our hearts, Brothers and Sisters, but how can He ever have it if we’re wrapped up in our own sins? The answer is that He can’t. This generation has become so jaded, so wrapped up in themselves and their own comfort that few see the forest through the trees. Don’t buy into the lies that the world is feeding you, Brothers and Sisters. We cannot live our lives for ourselves, nor are we called to. We are called to live in Christ and die to self. There we will find life eternal.

Let’s pray:

Father God we call out to You. Silence the lips of those who seek to spout lies in order to turn souls from you. Open the mouths of Your bold warriors who seek to spread the Gospel and do Your Holy work. In Jesus’ name. Amen.


God’s Redeeming Love for His Bride {Video}

In keeping with the theme of God’s redeeming love for His bride, we’re still looking at Hosea and studying the amazing story there. Recently, I stumbled across this video series from Irving Bible Church and it’s a powerful interpretation of the story of Hosea, as was the movie Amazing Love: The Story of Hosea that I watched a few nights ago. I invite you to watch both the movie and the YouTube video series all the way through, then leave a comment and tell us what you thought of it. (Disclaimer: We are not associated in any way with the Irving Bible Church, other than just being a fan of these videos.) 🙂

Psalm 51:7

A Lifetime of Regret If We Allow It {Weekly Scripture}

Read: Isaiah 12 

A common theme of my blog is growing and changing – pushing off from where I was to make a better future for myself and my family from what we’ve had in the past. Like many men and women from the Bible, I’ve made many grievous mistakes in this life, yet I seek the God who will rip the sin from my hands and feed me – truly feed me spiritual food and wash me clean.

Psalm 51:7

I could live a lifetime of regret, thinking about all the people I’ve hurt, all the opportunities wasted, all the messages I’ve failed to hear, but what would that really solve? I’m not advocating a hardened heart, but rather a repentant one. Repent, friends, and be free from all of that. Those moments are past, and there is little you can do to fix it sometimes. I’ve lost some truly wonderful friends due to my selfish and destructive behavior. Recently, I’ve wanted to reach out to them and apologize, to try to make things right, but I know it’s not possible. They are as gone from my life as my abuser and his wife. If there were ever to be reconciliation, it will have to come from God and God alone. No amount of meddling, regret, apologizing or pleading can make it otherwise. I’d lie and say I easily accept this, but what good would that do, Brothers and Sisters? It hurts to know I’ve foolishly thrown away a friendship, yet I know I can still pray for their success and joy in this life. I do not need to allow myself to marinate in regret, or open up old wounds for them. I can pray and move on, growing and changing as the Lord sees fit.

Thought for the week: You are never stuck in the place where you are right now. No matter how repugnant others say you are, you are God’s blessed, beloved son or daughter. You belong to the King and He will always come after you to save you, even from yourself. Call out to Him now.

Prayer: Dear Jesus, I need You in my life. I am lost, lonely, confused. I’ve made some poor choices in my life and I need Your help to grow and change beyond the person I am today. Give me the strength to fight this battle, the faith to know that You are with me, and the courage to keep going even when others say I should quit. I also need Wisdom and Peace that can come only from You. It’s in Your Holy and Precious Name I pray, Jesus. Amen.



Romans 12:2a, Psalm 27:10

Precious girls, sharing God’s love


It is likely that the world will tell us that we are trash to be discarded. We will be told that we are worthless, and we are despicable to look at, but as God’s children, we need to remember that this is not true! To Christ, we are Treasure worth dying for!

Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. 

Romans 12:2a

There are so many of us who have had rough lives, hard childhoods we are still recovering from and parents who have abused and discarded us. We must remember that God is our Father and He will never leave us.

I have a second verse for you, Brothers and Sisters. This verse has carried me through life for more than ten years, and it’s been an immense blessing to me. I share with you, in the hopes that God will use it to touch your soul and bring you nearer to Him as you read it.

For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the LORD will take me in.

Psalm 27:10

Brothers and Sisters, you are not alone. You have a purpose. A painful childhood can and will be redeemed by the powerful God that created you. You are not trash, but Treasure! You are already won! I love you. God loves you. Dry your tears and pray now. You are not alone. You are never, even in your darkest moments, alone.

Heavenly Father, I lift up hurting souls to You tonight. You are the great Physician and Healer, and You are also the Great Comforter and Father to all, especially the Fatherless and Motherless. You see our tears, You hear our cries, You know our pain. We are not alone. We thank You for Your infinite love and wisdom, that even when we do not understand what it is that You are doing, You still lead us, in our doubts, in our pain, in our stumbles. You love us even when it seems no one else does. You raise us up and care for us. Thank You, God. Thank You. In Jesus Name we pray and Praise Your Holy Name. Amen.



The Simple Truth {100 Words or Less}

There is absolutely nothing we can do to change others no matter how much we love them and pray for them. People will only change when they recognize a personal need for it.

You can (and should) walk away from any person, conversation or situation that does not honor Christ without ruining your life or looking back with regret. Don’t believe the people that tell you otherwise.

Living into God’s will is easier than trying to live for yourself. When you’re living as a fool, no one has your back for very long, but God will always take you back.



God is with you

You Will Not Be Disappointed

Right now I’m going through a really tough situation in my life, but I’m being blessed each time I follow the Lord’s promptings to do something or to not do something. As I listen to Him, I see myself and my family (husband, children) growing and changing in awesome ways. It occurs to me, not for the first time, that obedience and submission are outright blessings and not to be feared. (I’ll admit that at first, they can seem daunting and unrealistic, but that’s not how they’re meant to be. It can take some time to figure that out, which only makes the journey sweeter.)

God is with you

Yesterday, I began forming some healthy boundaries for myself, and I was set free from the bondage of unhealthy relationships in my life. It felt good. It felt like coming Home, even if just for a moment.

The following verse came to me last night from 1 Peter, chapter two, verses six and the first part of seven. I have the New American Standard Bible translation here.

For this is contained in Scripture: 



This precious value, then, is for you who believe…

Wow! When we turn to Jesus and believe in Him, we will not be disappointed. He will do as He says He’s going to do. His Word is true and good. It’s reduced me to a puddle of tears. It’s not often that children of abuse have anywhere they can turn to for help and safety. We’re living lives of fear, even into adulthood. We’ve been disappointed by almost everyone we know. I have been disappointed and abused by almost everyone I know, and yet here is the Lord telling me that I will not be disappointed by Him – and He’s right. He has never left me or let me down. For you who believe, God has laid a choice stone, a precious corner-stone, and you who believe will not be disappointed. Let Jesus in to the dark corners of your heart. He is with you and will bring you Light.

I’m praying for you, sisters and brothers. 🙂

In Christ,



My Fight With Homosexuality

My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. 

Psalm 62:7 NIV


For the past few years, we as a nation have been discussing all aspects of homosexuality and homosexual behavior and in some respects, I don’t really feel as though we’ve gotten anywhere on the subject. Science can be a fickle mistress, but so can the Church. Both are full of ideas, hypothesis, and flawed individuals. My goodness, I am certainly one of them. Albert Einstein once said that “science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind“. I don’t know if there is a genetic cause for homosexual behavior, and I don’t know if it’s ingrained in us the way that having blue eyes and brown hair is ingrained in my own DNA, but what I do know is that on some level, homosexual behavior and tendencies are at least as strong in us as alcoholism, drug addiction and the pull towards abusive behavior. What this means for the population is that we have to at least consider that it’s not something that is easily changed, if it can be changed at all. It’s at least a behavior deserving of our time, attention and compassion. At most, it’s deserving of our constant and consistent prayer.

Some of you who read this blog may be intensely offended by my previous statements and consider me a bigot. Others are right there with me, nodding in tune. Keep up, please. I’ve got more to say.

When I was ten years old, I knew I was different. It wasn’t just because I’d found the courage to seek help for myself and my family by turning my abuser in to the authorities. I knew I was different because I’d experienced something very adult that at the time, I’d assumed none of my peers had ever experienced. I’d had sex. I’d been abused and torn apart by someone who was supposed to take care of me. I’d seen body parts that I wasn’t supposed to see until I was married. I was marred and masked and tossed around. I’d been marked for a life of torment, and the devil was certainly after me from a young age. I was a pot made by God to be used for someone else’s garbage, or so I thought at the time. I knew a secret that very few other kids knew. All the dirty jokes about male and female parts and how they fit together were true. I’d been hearing the jokes on the playground since kindergarten. Potty mouths start young, but I’d already known all this for a long time. My childhood consisted of adult things, adult words, adult activities, adult emotions far too complex for a little girl to understand. It’s why I never understood it when adults would tell me that I didn’t understand something or that I was too young. I got it. I knew what they were talking about. For the most part, I was an adult from the time I was born. Not because I wanted to be, but because I was forced to be. I know that now, from the perspective I have as a parent, that this is a sad, disturbing way to look at it, but it’s true in some sense. I was forced to grow up way too fast and I gained an understanding of myself and of adulthood that I should never have had before the age of 18.

In therapy, I explored all kinds of emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with. I forgave a man who murdered my innocence. He forced me to bleed out my childhood through every pore, before I was even ready to start reading and learning basic math. He ripped out my basic rights as a human being and mutilated my pride and self-confidence before it had a chance to form. He forced me to look at my life from a young age and ask myself what I wanted and what the hell was I even doing here on this earth. My teenage years were spent questioning whether or not my existence on this earth was even beneficial to anyone, especially my parents who didn’t ever seem to understand what I was going through. I’m sorry, Mom. I know you’re reading this and your heart is hurting, but you have to know. You have to know how I feel because it’s real and it’s valid and I don’t know any other way to make you hear it.

Sexual awakenings are totally normal for teenage kids, but mine was so scary and I was so emotionally scarred and stunted by that point, that I just didn’t know what to do with any of my feelings. There was this amazing boy that I just couldn’t get enough of. He was so quiet and shy. I met him in the eighth grade in math class. He sat in the back of the class and never really spoke to anyone. Every day he wore a San Francisco 49ers hat and I could tell he was wounded too. I think it’s what most drew me to him. He tried to hide something behind that hat. I assumed we were the same, but I came to find out later that we weren’t. I’ll get to that later. For now, just know that I was completely intrigued by this quiet boy. I’d steal glances at him, knowing there was something about him that I just couldn’t get past. He was, from the moment I met him, completely unforgettable.

Time passed. This boy and I didn’t speak. I assumed he’d never noticed me and so I went on about my own life. I tried to convince my friends and myself that I was totally and completely into boys. In some ways, I was. My room looked like a typical teenage girls’ room – band posters all over the walls, cute celebrity boy pictures cut out of magazines and pasted on the walls. It was all pretty standard stuff, but inside I was reeling. As my friends went about kissing boys, all I wanted to do was kiss my best friend at the time – a girl. I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved, tenderly. Not the painful “love” that was inflicted on me by my abuser. Not the forced love that I felt from my parents, or even my grandmother (whom I still love, even in death.) I wanted what you see in the movies. I wanted to know that tenderness and compassion existed and I assumed for a very, very long time that it only existed in romantic love, so I wanted that. From my experiences with sexual abuse, I “knew” that it didn’t exist from the opposite sex. So while boys were certainly cute, especially that quiet boy from school, it just wasn’t possible for me to develop feelings for them. They were all corrupt.

High school was an interesting time for me, and by interesting, I mean hellacious. Despite my true feelings and desires, I allowed myself to be forced by a family member to allow my abuser back into my life. He entered back into the picture full-time just a few weeks before High School started. My family was elated. I was crushed beyond repair. It’s been nearly 17 years and I’m still not healed from that soul crushing moment. Forgiveness takes time – a lifetime apparently. Anyway, the boy was back in my life. He actually spoke to me, thanks to my best friend at the time. (Not the one I’d wanted to kiss, but another friend. Kids are so fickle, and I was certainly fickle too.) This boy captivated every part of me. I wanted to know him, to understand how he could penetrate walls that I’d fortified to keep everyone out – especially his kind (boys), but I didn’t know how to do that when I was so absolutely terrified. So I pretended to be just like everyone else. I flirted, wrote him cute notes, dressed differently when he was around, and I let him in little by little. I always knew he’d hurt me. He was a boy (read: monster) after all. Monsters have no compassion, right? And he was no exception. It was only a matter of time. The more I felt for this boy, the more I wanted to be someone else. There were many days I used the mental techniques I’d taught myself during the abuse, to disappear from my body and still remain in conversation with someone. I became a shell with no soul, existing somewhere else that no one could really see. They were speaking to someone who wasn’t really me. (It was like I was tricking everyone, but looking back, I was only ever fooling myself.) Inside, I was different and I knew it. I would never kiss boys like my friends did. I was a lesbian. I knew it as instinctively as I knew my hair was brown and my eyes were blue. I was 16 years old and I just knew.

The boy and I “dated” off and on for three years of high school until the summer after junior year when he went to stay with his father in another state, hundreds of miles away. At the time, it was devastating, but looking back, it was best for our relationship. I’m not sure it was best for the boy, but I’m not sure it’s for me to say. I don’t know what would’ve happened had he stayed. I’d like to think he’d have been hurt less, but I just don’t know. (His father was not good to him, and he’s still recovering from that, 14 years later.)

For me, it forced me to dig deep in myself and look at what I needed and wanted for my life. I could never be honest with the boy. He had no idea I wanted to kiss girls and to hold their hands. He thought I was in love with him, and I was, in a very immature, unhealthy way. I was in love with him the best way I felt I could be at that time, given what I was going through on the inside. His mom was right to ask him not to see me anymore.

After high school, still no word from the boy. I set about hiding in as deep a hole as I could make for myself. A lot of people were worried about me, but I didn’t care. Life was business as usual. Brood, sabotage my life, deal with conflicting emotions, hide the truth, and want what I could never have – true, compassionate love from a woman. My mother was harsher than she ever meant to be. I know it was because I was difficult and wouldn’t let her in. If I’d asked her for more compassion, I know she’d have given it me, but I just couldn’t do that. There was, quite seriously and beyond what I can share on this blog, no reason to trust that it would have been healthy to do so. I shut down. I experimented with all kinds of things – porn, alcohol, medications. I never took illegal drugs – a small comfort to me now, seeing as I abused medications for so long. I just needed something to take the edge off. There were feelings threatening to come to the surface and I had to do whatever it took to suppress them.

The boy came back in my dreams more often than I invited him to. He was so beautiful. I could always tell him absolutely everything, and while he was afraid, he never once told me I was stupid or childish for feeling what I was feeling. He has never fully understood me, but he has always loved me. In those dreams, he loved me without ever touching me. It was perfect.

In waking, I wanted to be touched and I didn’t know what to do about it. I spoke with my therapist extensively on the issue, even admitting to my pornography addiction, which by this point, was rampant and consuming. I wanted to figure out what was going on with me, and I felt at the time, that exposure was the best medicine. I know that sounds stupid now, but it was how I coped back then. I suspect that my therapist was a lesbian too. I’d researched her a bit years ago and never once had she been married, but she did live with a woman for a long time. No relation. So I assumed perhaps they were lovers. It would certainly explain her advice to me that I was probably a lesbian, and that I should explore my feelings on the subject deeper in a healthy environment – therapy.

A few people in my life who somewhat knew what I was going through at the time, suggested to me that perhaps my feelings toward women stemmed from my abuse as a child and that my fear of being hurt by a man again, lead me to these homosexual urges. At the time, this idea seemed absurd because the urges were so strong that they felt like the most real part of me. I was consumed by this idea that everything would be OK if I just became what my mind “organically” lead me to be – a lesbian.

From the point that I made the decision to embrace the lesbian part of me, I immersed myself in the homosexual culture. I joined chatrooms for single lesbians and confused homosexuals, I rented every movie made by or written about homosexuality. I joined blog mailing lists for homosexual writers, and I championed the cause for equality for all gays. Why shouldn’t we be allowed to live the way we want, without fear of intimidation or discrimination, right?

About 5 years after high school, I entered into my first and only homosexual relationship. It lasted all of 5 weeks, if that. Jammie was exactly what I thought I needed. Her identity and self-image were fiercely rooted in homosexuality. She was the leader of her local college’s Rainbow Club, she was raising her two boys to love the gays, but feel free to choose their own path. She had lived as a homosexual since she was 17 years old, and anyone who questioned her ability to parent, or live as she pleased, was given the boot from her life. Jammie was a strong, charismatic woman firmly clinging to her beliefs and ideals. There was nothing that was ever going to change her. She also was not a Christian and was extremely antagonistic towards all Christians, even me at times, when I’d mentioned that the Episcopal Church (of which I’d been a member since birth, practically) was fully accepting of “our kind”. Nothing could sway her. I see now how futile my attempts were, but I thought I loved her, so I had to try.

I remember that first kiss from Jammie. I’d waited years for it. I assumed it would feel like coming home, but it didn’t. It was exactly like what I imagined kissing a boy would be like. It was cold, impersonal. Though I know Jammie had feelings for me, she never tried to break down walls like the boy in the 49ers hat had. She just assumed I was as hard-core as she was. I had no idea what I wanted, and when the relationship ended abruptly and harshly, I thought I was devastated and heartbroken, but I wasn’t. I was on the road to healing.

A few months later, I met a man. A much older man who was all kinds of wrong for me, but still offered some insight into who I was and what I wanted. Like the boy from years ago, this man broke down walls, not because I asked him to, but because he wanted to. He wasn’t a terrible person, but he was kind and compassionate. By sharing of himself and his faith in Christ, he quietly and confidently encouraged me to do the same. An inappropriate friendship formed (he was eight years older than me, divorced once and prone to alcoholism. I was still a virgin, had never kissed a male before ever, and extremely naive), and we began speaking multiple times a day. His entire family embraced me, loved me, prayed for me, and invited me in to share their joy and their faith. For a while, it felt natural, healthy, good. I was happy again and I started to feel like I was figuring out who I really was finally. I set the homosexual stuff aside, and I embraced my feelings for this man.

Banker man, as I’ll call him from now on, was a wonderful person to talk to. He had no idea what went on in the few months before I came to know him, and I appreciated that he never asked, or knew to ask. I felt silly and stupid for ever thinking that I was a lesbian. Surely, with the things I felt for this man, it could not be the case. I was not a lesbian. Finally – I was just like everyone else.

The relationship with Banker man (an investment banker who bought and sold high quality real estate for a living) progressed to the point where he asked me to come and live with him. His entire family was on board, and excited about the idea. We began making plans toward that end. I even invested financially in this.

It was one week before I was to move in with Banker Man that I saw the boy again. I’d been secretly speaking to him on MySpace (the cooler version of Facebook at the time). I went out with the boy for a night, and from the moment I saw the boy – now a man, I knew I was in love with him and I never, ever wanted to look back. I called Banker Man and broke his heart. I told him I couldn’t see him again, and I couldn’t talk to him, and I couldn’t look back on my decision. He didn’t accept that too well, and kept after me for the next several years to change my mind (even recently, he attempted to come back in my life) but I couldn’t. I can’t. I married the boy three months later. He still had the same 49ers hat and wore it often, especially when we went to the beach. I hated that hat because the colors weren’t right for his skin tone, but I loved him so much it hurt. It hurt us both.

The boy knew about my past. I’d always been honest about that with him. I even told him about Jammie and about Banker Man. I told him about all my feelings, whether he wanted to know or not. I know his mother was still worried about him. I was too. My feelings for Jammie were gone, and I only wanted to kiss the boy. He was the only boy I’d ever kissed. Even Banker Man didn’t get that honor.

I still struggle sometimes with feeling like maybe something is wrong with me, and I wonder if I can handle the memories of what happened to me. I have PTSD from the abuse. I remember wanting to kiss girls and the mental escape from reality that porn, medications and alcohol had been for me, and that it’s easier to escape into those behaviors than to face reality, but I fight those feelings with such intensity that it nearly breaks me sometimes. I don’t allow alcohol in my house most of the time because I refuse to go back to that place mentally. I make sure I’m being accountable when I’m on the internet, and I pray fervently when thoughts of homosexuality enter into my brain. It might be easier at the time for me to escape into these addictions, but it’s not what I need in the long run.

I spent years running from healing, from God, from Jesus. I bought the lies that the devil sold me over and over and over again. Jesus told His disciples that “It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble.” and I know that it would’ve been better for me as a child if I’d never been abused in any way. Maybe I’d be whole now and not suffering from anxiety and PTSD. But you know, as bad as it can get sometimes, there is such beauty in this pain. There is such healing that can come from fighting so long and so hard for what is right, and what is true. I’ve learned through all the pain and heartbreak and stupid choices that there is a God and He can reach down to us wherever we are, and offer us a hand up out of the muck and mire of our own lives. I’ve learned that a lot of people are scared, and most never tell their stories the way that I have learned to do. Most people just stay stuck in their fear. I’m terrified. I’m still in the fear most days, but I’m so tired of allowing it to consume me. I want the blessings that God has given me. I don’t want to lose them or to sabotage them. As hard as it is, I’m running towards healing now. Sometimes I take a few steps back, assessing the situation, making sure it’s right for me, but it’s only because I’ve trusted the wrong people to help me before. I don’t want to make that mistake again.

I know now that homosexuality, at least for me, is a choice. I can’t speak for everyone else on the issue, (though I sometimes make the mistake of doing so) but I do know that for me, for Jammie and for my other friends who root their lives in homosexual behaviors, it’s borne out of pain and fear of the opposite gender. It’s a learned behavior that eventually becomes a lifestyle. I’d like to believe with full certainty that there is absolutely no way that people can be “born gay” but I just don’t know for sure. I’m not God. I’m not fully open to changing my mind on this, but there’s a crack open, because of what Albert Einstein said, and because I know how hard it was for me to fight those tendencies towards homosexuality.

What we need to practice is compassion and understanding towards those who are engaging in homosexual behavior, whether we understand it or not. Some people are so convinced that there’s absolutely no way they can every change, that we start to believe them, and really – in some way, they’re right. No one can change who they are without grace and without a willingness to allow that grace to permeate their existence.

I’m so grateful for the boy (Anthony) and his mother. They love me even when I don’t deserve it (which is most days, I’ll be honest). Neither one of them can fix me or heal me, or change me, but they can and do love and support me and that gives me the encouragement I need to keep fighting for full and complete healing from the past.

Christ has begun a good work in me, even long before I could see it. Every step I’ve taken in this life, Christ has been with me. He knows how I hurt, He knows what has happened to me. He knows what I’ve done, and He loves me anyway. He loves me – a broken sinner in a fallen world.

I fell yesterday. Broke into a thousand pieces. Stopped breathing during a series of panic attacks, and then I rushed myself to the doctor without telling anyone where I was going. I was afraid to stop fighting for the healing that I so desperately need. God is with me every step of the way, and He is with you, too. May my words and my transparency bless you in some way that the darkness cannot. For the love of your own healing, don’t let the darkness win. Shove your pain into the light and learn to fight harder. Learn to love those who don’t deserve to be loved, and learn to accept the love that others give you. God knows we need it so badly it hurts.


 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13