“No,” he replied, “you’ve had nine abusers.”

I was floored. I could only recall eight. Then God revealed that the ninth abuser was me.

In various ways I had abused myself over and over again. Often I did not know why, I just felt I needed to treat myself badly. It seems I had been brainwashed by those who claimed I deserved the abuse that they had dished out. I now also realize that by focusing on the obvious pain of self-abuse I was deadening my awareness of the pain of the little child inside – the part of me that was hurting so deeply but I didn’t want to admit it existed. Nevertheless, self-abuse grew less and less effective as a means of deadening my internal pain. For that I am grateful. I needed to heal and for healing I had to be aware of what was going on inside of me.

Irrespective of one’s gender, sexual abuse is devastating. The above was written by a man, I’ll call Jake. The following is by a woman I’ll call Ruth, with an occasional thought added by Net-Burst.Net’s founder, Grantley Morris.

Until the last few years, I had always despised and hated the person I was at age twelve. I so detested a photo of myself taken the day I turned thirteen that I have felt like defacing it, because I looked like a sweet and innocent child. It was a lie. How could this child be sweet and innocent, since she had deliberately had sex with a man old enough to be her father? That twelve-year-old stole my innocence! She deliberately gave away the most precious, personal thing I ever had: my virginity. I had every right to detest her!

But my attitude to her slowly changed as I began to realize that two other people ought also to take responsibility for what happened.

One was the man who deliberately set out to seduce me. I was extremely angry with him when a few years after the event I discovered that he should have gone to jail for what he did to me. Where I lived, to have sexual relations with anyone under sixteen was called “statutory rape” and was a criminal offence.

And the other person?

My mother – who told me my father rejected me at birth because I was a girl and too ugly to be his kid anyway.

My mother – who blamed her divorce on me for not being a boy.

My mother – who told me I was so plain that no one would ever want to marry me.

My mother – who never showed a normal duty of care toward me. How could she let her twelve-year-old daughter go on long car rides with a man whom my mother didn’t know?

It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized I had been so vulnerable to seduction because this man was the first person ever to validate the fact that I was female! I was a sitting duck.

I now find it strange, but nevertheless common among abuse survivors, that many of us would rather blame ourselves for what happened to us as children, than admit that our parents or other respected people – the ones who should have loved us, nurtured us and protected us – had let us down so badly.

However, if the Bible emphasizes anything, it is that no human is guiltless. It goes on to say that God, through Christ, offers us forgiveness that we should joyously accept and, with equal generosity, forgive everyone else who has hurt us. And that includes forgiving ourselves.

Forgiveness is meaningless unless there has been an offense. The only way we can forgive those who have hurt us is by first facing the truth that they did wrong and have gravely hurt us. Telling ourselves that they have not done wrong is simply a failure to face reality. For a poem about my struggles to forgive my mother, see Have I Forgiven You Yet?

Jake read of Ruth’s struggles and wrote to her saying:

If the Son of God wrote a letter to twelve-year-old Ruth, I expect he would say something like this:

Before you were in the womb I knew you. Before you were thought of, every part of you was written in my book, flawless and holy. I made you just the way I desired, perfect for me.

I was there when your father left. I felt the cut so deeply as it wounded your gentle heart. You see, there was a time when my Father left me as I hung on that tree. My grief was so intense that the earth shook as darkness covered the land. My dearest child, I understand.

I was there when your mother left emotionally; when she forsook your feminine heart, and traded it for a lie. I felt the pain of your injured heart; the scar you were not meant to bear. I was there, Ruth, I was there.

I was there when the deceiver came in the form of a man to steal from you. I saw your pain and shame. I heard your whimpering cry in the night. I was there when you thought no one was there. I held you as you cried to sleep; your pain kept you from seeing me. I was there even when the tears would no longer run. I was there.

I felt the cuts of the ripping knife as the words of your mother ran deep. Those words were not mine; I would never have sent them. I was there, feeling your pain, seeing your life being drained. I was there, holding you. Your pain kept you from seeing me.

I sent my word given for you: “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up” (Psalms 27:10, KJV). My dear Ruth, you are risen with me, the Christ, and even now sit at the throne of God next to me. I am here.

My voice you know. Now here is what I say: Twelve-year-old Ruth, will you make a trade with me? Will you give to me those rags that you wear; the ones you think you deserve? I will not take them from you, for I am not like the one who deceived. In the place of rags here is a gown sparkling white and clean; one that will never fade for all eternity. Will you trade me, twelve-year-old Ruth? Will you let me take that crown of thorns that cuts you and makes you bleed? I have a tiara to put in its place for all the holy ones to see. You see, my dear Ruth, the trade is done, it is just that you cannot see. The rags are no more, nor the crown of thorns, for I bore it all at Calvary. It is the way you see yourself that you should trade, so that you may truly see reality. Will you give that pain, fear and shame to me?

With the greatest love,
Your true Father

Ruth continues:

Bitter years of experience have taught me that doing our utmost to lock past hurts into a box can suddenly backfire. No matter how successfully we fool ourselves into thinking we are keeping the past in the past, all the pain keeps fermenting and festering. We might suppose that all is peaceful but we are sitting on a volcano of torrid emotions that could erupt at the most inconvenient of times.

When it finally erupts it seems such a disaster, but it is actually progress toward healing. At last we find ourselves facing reality. If you have been letting God rule, it means that the God who has been watching over your healing believes that you are now ready to stop living in denial and reach out to that little, hurting, desperately needy child inside. No matter how you feel about it, that child is loved of God and needs to know it. That child also needs your love and compassion and nurturing and affirmation that both the child – and the adult you – missed out on.

To find full healing you must get to know this child. This will most likely involve briefly re-living the horrible pain and trauma that caused you to hate him or her.

I often hear survivors say, “I was molested as a child, big deal, a lot of people were.” This is only looking at the fact of what happened. It is not validating the emotional trauma experienced. It is trying to convince oneself that what happened was insignificant.

I am reminded of when my young son complained about a splinter. I thought he was being a crybaby. The splinter was only about 1/16th inch (1 mm) long. It couldn’t be causing that much pain. But I was seeing only the tip. The splinter had gone in vertically. The hidden part was about 1/2 inch (12 mm) long, and thicker than the exposed part. No wonder he complained about the pain!

Likewise, for those of us who have been sexually abused, our pain is far deeper than anyone can see, and far deeper than we are usually willing to admit to ourselves.

But if you have suffered abuse, your innermost being, your very self, knows just how deeply you were hurt – spiritually, emotionally, physically and sexually – and the real you will never find genuine and lasting peace until you let the Great Physician attend to that painful memory that has become an abscess. He needs to drain the poison, tenderly bathe the wound and apply the soothing ointment of his love to your soul.

The fact of abuse cannot be changed, but the emotional pain can be healed, if you let the Great Physician access to it so that he can tenderly extract it.

Remember how Jesus often asked hurting people what they wanted from him. He knew they were hurting – like he knows you are hurting – but only an abuser would force himself on others against their will. The good and gracious Lord is the exact opposite. He longs to heal but moved by the deep respect he has for you, he waits until he is invited. The God of Truth needs you to acknowledge the truth of your pain and to trust him to touch that ever so tender part of you with his healing hands.

We are usually afraid to acknowledge the extent of our hurt because it seems bottomless. Some of us think if we start crying, we will never stop. Others of us fear that our rage will be uncontrollable if we admit to ourselves the guilt of others. Some us of mistakenly suppose that God will be angry with us. But when at last we muster the courage to face the reality of our suffering and invite the tender God of Truth into that hidden part of us, we find that any pain that results is fleeting and the peace is endless. It is then that we regret all the years wasted avoiding healing.

Not to be sold. © Copyright 2007, Grantley Morris. May be freely copied in whole or in part provided: it is not altered, this entire paragraph is included and readers are not charged. Many more compassionate, inspiring, sometimes hilarious writings available free online at www.net-burst.net  Freely you have received, freely give.
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