"When trouble comes we tend to lean harder on our Daddy God, realising that we just can’t “do life" without Him, and recognising His sovereignty in our lives. God isn’t above reminding us of these things."
If you've been reading my other posts, by now you would have realised that I'm a big believer in you reap what you sow....Or in other words, every bad decision/choice has a consequence attached. We can't go through life throwing out the "Why me" card every time something unpleasant happens to us. God will forgive your sins if you repent, BUT that doesn't automatically remove the consequence of your original choice.
At times God allows trials to come our way simply to teach us a lesson. That sounds ominous, but really, isn't life all about learning? If you hadn't already noticed, God doesn't just sit you down in a classroom and rattle off theory until your ears turn blue. He is the creator of the universe and undoubtedly knows that our attention spans wouldn’t stretch past 30 minutes of lectures on each and every subject to do with life. More often than not he will throw a scenario at you and teach you through trial and error on how to best learn from that particular experience. To grow up. To be better. The bare bones truth is......When trouble comes we tend to lean harder on our Daddy God, realising that we just can’t “do life without Him” and recognising His sovereignty in our lives. God isn’t above reminding us of these things.
BUT!!..... I hear you screeching......how is that applicable to a child being sexually abused? Did the child have a choice? Did the child do something to provoke consequence? Did the child even have a chance to turn from this experience and learn from her mistakes? The answer of course is NO.
This is a subject that many have struggled to comprehend. The big WHY question remains unanswered for millions of people. There is not a lot that a child can learn while they are going through such a traumatic experience. During these difficult years, I couldn't remember learning anything remotely positive about the actual experience of being sexually, mentally and emotionally abused. If I learnt anything it was how to pretend to sleep, how to sneak around so he couldn't hear me, how to keep my mouth shut, and inevitably how to hate (myself and him). The upside to all of that is I did learn how to survive....Survive long enough to reach adulthood - where the real learning began.
I don't have all the answers. But the answers I do possess have worked for me. My journey, and who I am today is testimony of that.
I will revisit this subject soon. Its a biggie...
I don’t remember exactly when the abuse started, however my first memory of “things that weren’t quite right” was as a 8 year old and not long after we moved to Australia. It was a strangely impressionable memory, given the nature of the experience, and would also be the type of experience that set the style to come. It happened one night when Mum was doing a late shift at the hospital and I was ‘safely tucked in bed’ at home with my new father minding me. Not an unusual occurrence as Mum often did the late shifts. I’ll never forget the feeling, even though I was quite young, for I woke up with a start and looked up to see him sitting on the side of the bed looking down at me. I remember specific details about that moment so clearly, so I knew instantly that I was not dreaming. The door was ajar and so the hall light illuminated the orange and yellow wallpaper patterns and cast light onto my furniture and the profile of this man. The fan which was standing at the foot of my bed droned familiarly and the white sheet that barely covered my half naked body was kicked off to the side as it so often was during those hot summer nights. Without a word he placed something under my nose and I felt a sickening sensation race through my body before I passed out unconscious. I think he had hoped that I would completely forget about waking up at all but it was to be that memory relayed in later years that sparked off alarm bells with those I confided in.
This man was not just a child molester, he was a child molester that took full advantage of his position as a doctor.
Consequently his style was hard to detect, prove and even remember although there were many occasions when he slipped up and slowly but surely I began to register what he was doing. Often he would say to me “Its all right Becky, I’m allowed, remember I’m a Doctor”. Or “Trust me Becky, I'm your father, I love you and when you love someone this is ok”. Those were the two most frequently used lines. Said often enough they began to sink into my childlike mind and set firmly within my consciousness. However my unconscious mind or I guess it may have been my spirit, never quite swallowed the bait. I was 15 years old when I decided to confide in my friends and then finally my mother. 7 long years of torment - half of which, I was forced to spend alone with this man as he and my mother had long since divorced. I was told by police that if this case ever made it to court it probably wouldn't find him guilty due to lack of evidence amongst other things. I didn't want to face him anyway, so buried my head deep within the sands of disassociation.
I lived this way for several years, and as time went by, instead of facing the pain and working it out, I learnt how to push it deep down inside. Nobody really knew or understood what this kind of hurt was cultivating within me. Those who paid close enough attention were privy to some spectacular manifestations and previews, as every now and then I would erupt under the enormous pressure. But even then, those who witnessed it felt more comfortable putting that down to typical teenage behaviour.
Sometimes teenagers are just being teenagers.......but sometimes there is a little more to it than just that!
Keep reading on