Recently, our former Senior Pastor and my brother in Christ, Rev. Rob Gill, asked me if he could share part of my testimony (anonymously) with a parishioner. Familiar with my story, Rob wanted to share the “healing and grace” that God brought to my life…perhaps with someone acquainted with a similar past. “Absolutely,” I told him. And, I recalled one of my favorite verses, Psalm 30:11-12: “You have turned for me my mourning into dancing. You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness…to the end that my glory may sing to You and not be silent.”
As time to write this month’s article approached, I began thinking about what it means to “not be silent.” When I counsel, I rarely share the particulars of my journey of healing. I prefer to keep the focus on the precious individuals in front of me…to join them on their paths, rather than take them on mine…or suggest that theirs should look at all like mine. Unless the Lord prompts me differently, that probably won’t change. But, as I sit down to write this article today, I sense the Lord asking me to share my story with you all…and not anonymously. I trust that, if indeed God is prompting me, He will be faithful to use my words to reach into someone else’s life to plant seeds of healing and grace.
When I was growing up, my family looked pretty normal from the outside. My parents, older brother, three older sisters, and I went to church where my father was a deacon and Sunday school teacher. I took piano and dance lessons, and I tried to make sure I could check the box on my offering envelope that said, “I read my bible everyday.” I was a “sweet girl.” But, from before I can remember until I was 13 years old, I carried around the secret of being sexually abused by my father. It seemed an absolute impossibility that I could tell anyone… as if it would make it real if I talked about it. When it stopped, I stuffed it far away.
I told no one until I was 18…and the person I told was my boyfriend (to whom I have now been married for almost 25 years. Praise be to God.) When I was in graduate school in my early 20s, I sought counseling because it is recommended that students experience counseling for themselves. Certain that I had escaped any lasting effects of my abuse, I considered it purely educational. (HA!!) My counseling would be on and off for over 5 years…accompanying me through confronting my father, breaking the silence in my family, and helping me uncover and challenge my deep shame and sense of defectiveness.
When I was in my late 20s, my father married the woman he had had an affair with for 15 years and became estranged from the family. For many years, I would find myself with ferocious fear of abandonment… sometimes so much that my marriage suffered. Though I didn’t return to counseling (as we had moved), I clung to Jesus. I meditated on verses about strength, fortitude, courage, boldness, and truth. I kept (and still keep) a journal of prayers and reflections, and What is True.
I write and speak often about the battle between Truth and lies… how we must meditate on what is true (Phil 4:8) and hold captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5). That is because I know how fierce this battle is… and I also know how faithful the Lord is…always leading us in triumph in Christ (2 Cor 2:14). I am not, by nature, a triumphant person. I couldn’t even seek the Lord without his first seeking me. I am not here to say, “Look... here I am. Do what I did.” Heavens no. But I do know first hand that that Jesus brings beauty from ashes. All of our ashes. I pray that He will help you bring Him yours. “Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to Your name goes all the glory for Your unfailing love and faithfulness” (Psalm 115:1).
Jo is a Licensed Professional Counselor at St. Mark’s. You can reach her by phone (601- 259-1749) or email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
