Once upon a time, in rural Indiana, lived a blond-haired, brown-eyed little girl. From the outside looking in, her life looked perfect. She lived on a farm with horses, rabbits, dogs, lots of cats, and a beautiful vegetable garden with a row of sunflowers taller than she was. She went to a wonderful school and had lots of friends. Her parents were well respected in the community; her father owned a construction company, and her mother was an artist. She was their only child, and they loved her dearly.
But things aren’t always as they seem. Behind closed doors, this family was broken. The father was a verbally, physically, and sexually abusive alcoholic. He scarred the mother and the little girl in ways that others couldn’t see, and yet those scars still remain. The little girl blocked out much of her childhood as a result.
That little girl from Indiana? That was me.
My home was full of anger and violence, addiction and betrayal. Yet, there were periods of time when life seemed relatively normal, happy even. Despite what had happened, I still loved my father, and I knew, in his own way, he loved me. But the truth is, he was broken too … and he didn’t know how to love me well.
Fast forward to my college years … I had two choices. I could either become my own person or follow in my father’s footsteps. As is often the case, I chose the latter. I, too, became an alcoholic and an addict. I sought to fill the void in my life with anyone and anything. I was promiscuous, foolish, and, quite frankly, should have died several times.
But God … in his goodness and mercy, brought me to the end of myself. I moved home, and by God’s miraculous healing power, I got sober. And yet, there was still something missing. There was still this void in my life. I wrestled with this for about four years and tried to fill it with a career that promised prosperity and recognition. It fed my ego and fueled my pride.
Then, in June 2008, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It was very aggressive, but it hadn’t yet spread to my organs or my bones. I was only 26 years old, I wasn’t married, and I had no children. So, I was sent to a fertility specialist in hopes of one day having the chance to have kids.
I was told at that appointment the process would take one month. My oncologist was not comfortable waiting that long to start treatment and risk my cancer spreading. So, we decided to proceed with my chemotherapy treatment, and I was told the chances of having children of my own were incredibly low.
One thing I didn’t mention from my earlier years was the fact that I’d had an abortion when I was 21 years old. So, in this moment, I was angry and heartbroken, confused and despondent. I believed that I had killed my only chance to be a mother and that God was punishing me for it, along with all the other terrible choices I had made in my early adult life.
Now, I’d had an awareness of God growing up. I was raised Lutheran until I was 11, when we stopped attending church. Then, my mom’s parents took me to Catholic mass on Christmas and Easter every year. But there was no relationship. I was cognizant of a higher power that controlled everything… including this. I believed He didn’t just allow it, but He caused it to happen as judgment for my sins.
At this moment, I’m on my knees in my bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably, screaming at God, asking Him, “Why?!”
And it’s in this moment, the darkest, lowest moment of my life, that He meets me. I can hear the sweet, still, small voice whispering to me. Not at all like my father's harsh, condemning voice when I had made a mistake. This voice was loving, unconditionally so, patient, and kind. This voice told me how deeply loved I am, that He had relentlessly pursued me my entire life, protected me from all kinds of harm, and created me for good. He told me I was not the sum of my past mistakes but rather who He called me to be—nothing more, nothing less. He gently said that all my attempts to fill the void in my life were futile because He was the only One who could fill it.
At that moment, I finally admitted my need for a Savior. I surrendered my life to Christ. And I’ve never looked back.
I would love to tell you that my life has been all sunshine and rainbows since that day in 2008, but don’t misunderstand. While my life is infinitely better, it’s not without its own trials.
Those of you who have followed Christ for any amount of time know that to be true. Since then, I have wrestled with unforgiveness, doubt, insecurity, and anger—to name a few. I have suffered loss and experienced heartbreak.
God has healed me in every possible way a person can be healed. He has healed me physically from cancer and given me the miracle of not one but two beautiful children. He has healed me emotionally in many ways, but freedom from the anger I clung to and leading me to forgive my father truly are two big ones. He has healed me mentally, replacing my insecurity and feelings of never being good enough with my true identity in Christ—secure, accepted, significant.
Most importantly, He has healed me spiritually, given me eternal life, shown me my calling and purpose in this life through the Holy Spirit, and given me an amazing community of brothers and sisters in Christ who continue to remind me of who I am.
You see, while it’s true that He has drastically transformed my life, I am still broken and in desperate need of a Healer and in the process of being made whole. I am constantly taking my thoughts captive. I am constantly having to be reminded of who I am in Christ. In times of pressure, old wounds open up, and the old me, bruised and battered, leaks out. I am constantly at risk of slipping backward into the downward spiral of my old self. And we will all do this until we see Him face-to-face.
Yet, the truth is, without Jesus, I would still be that person. I share my story because I know that anything good in my life is a result of God’s grace and mercy. And I’m still, always trying to learn how to live in the tension between being completely freed of old scars and completely healed and yet still allowing those scars to be tender enough that I can see and empathize with others' hurts.
I know that many of us share similar stories, stories that may not be identical in circumstance but are in pain. And yet we know that God works all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purposes. Sweet friend, you will overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of your testimony.
Can I tell you just one more part of my story? It’s my very favorite…
When I put my faith in Christ, my father was adamantly opposed to it. My husband had urged me, by the prompting of the Holy Spirit, to reconcile with my father. This process took years, probably a little more than a decade. But, again, by God’s grace and mercy, I came to fully forgive my father and start the process of mending our relationship. Before Kevin and I married, I asked my dad to build us a cross for our wedding ceremony to symbolize Christ as the foundation of our marriage. I expected him to object angrily, but he did not.
During the father-daughter dance at our wedding, my dad starts sobbing. When I ask him what’s wrong, he says it’s not sadness but joy causing him to weep. He then told me that when he made the cross for us, God spoke to him, drawing him into a relationship with Him. As a result of this, my father gave his life to Christ … just four years before he died at the age of 57.
You see, God doesn’t just heal us for our own good but also for the good of others and for His glory. When we share how God has healed us with others, we show them the goodness of a loving Father. The world is full of broken people who need to know that God is still in the healing business. And what He wants most for us is to accept His Son and be healed spiritually… eternally.
How has God healed you? How is He making you whole?
This week, spend time reflecting on all the ways God, through Jesus, has healed you. Then, share your story with someone else and watch as God uses it for his glory!
It is my prayer that He uses you mightily.
As for us, we have all of these great witnesses who encircle us like clouds. So we must let go of every wound that has pierced us and the sin we so easily fall into. Then we will be able to run life’s marathon race with passion and determination, for the path has been already marked out before us. We look away from the natural realm and we focus our attention and expectation onto Jesus who birthed faith within us and who leads us forward into faith’s perfection.
Hebrews 12:1-2 TPT