A Beautiful History Part One

     There are three parts to this story…my story…God’s story.  It will start off rough, but just wait until the end…it’ll be worth it…

      We’ve all seen her, walking the halls confidently with her head held high, permanent smile plastered to her face, Bible in her hand and a heart for her Savior.  It seems like she has it all together.  Active in her church, lovely, smart, and successful in all she puts her mind to.  The truth is, she’s an actress through and through and she is one of the best you’ll ever meet.  During the day light hours, no one would be the wiser that she is broken, shamed, and disgusted with herself.  Her nights are filled with visions she can’t escape no matter how hard she tries, visions of a horrible truth.  They whisper insidiously in her ear, telling her she’s worthless, that’s she’s to blame.  In the morning, still awake, she struggles to get out of bed and face yet another day.  It’s a chore just to eat, but she knows she must.  She presses on, keeping up the charade, one more day.

This was my life for years after my trusted friend violated me at the age of thirteen.  I did nothing to stop it from happening; I didn’t scream, frozen with fear.  It was easy to believe Satan when he said it was my fault.  I saw myself as something cheapened, shattered in to tiny fragments, unable to piece myself back together…no matter how hard I desperately tried.  The outside was easy enough to reconstruct, a smile here, a hollow laugh there and no one could guess.  Inside, the pieces lay shattered, threatening at any moment to cut through my act and reveal the truth.

I searched God’s Word for answers and I would be comforted for a time, but it never lasted long.  I felt like I was seeking God through a pane of frosted glass.  He was there, I could just see His outline, I knew He was there, but I couldn’t get Him into focus; my eyes wouldn’t adjust through the pain.  I needed someone whose vision was clear, so at 16, I told her my story in a letter with print so tiny it was a minor miracle she could read the words.  She tried to remind me that I was precious, loved, blameless, and my life had not ended.  It took some time, but after three years of listening to Satan’s lies, I was able to cast them aside and embrace God’s Truth.

It was a Truth that I clung to and so desperately needed once I left for college…damaged…but free…

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