Trigger warning: Another post about sexual abuse. To read why I write about abuse, click here.
Today’s post is taken from my journal. I hope there is a principle or two buried in these lines that you find relevant for your journey, whatever it may be.
God, I feel drained. I feel separated from others. After the anger I am finding stillness. The flashback has quieted. I can separate right now from back then. Even though I am hurting, I am OK. I am not trapped. “He” is gone.
God, you have never left me. You live outside of and beyond time; you are able to grieve with me, the little boy being abused. At the same time you are able to rejoice with me, the man who is learning to live in your grace.
I want someone to grieve with me; someone who can comfort with their touch. That desire is natural. But you God are grieving with me. That reality is super-natural.
God, you say that it would be better for someone to have a millstone tied around his neck and to be thrown into the sea, than to cause a little one to stumble. (Luke 17: 2). Your language is strong. Your language agrees with what I wanted when I was that little boy. I wanted him to be gone.
And yet, I know you loved him as well. In Colossians 3:13 you tell me, “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you must forgive….”
You have forgiven me for a lot. I’m not fully there with forgiving him yet. There’s still a lot of pain. But God, I made a decision with you a few years ago to forgive him and to continue to forgive him. That strength isn’t found in myself. Forgiveness is not about my ability to forgive.
Forgiveness is about your strength, your ability, to help me.
As I write, my compassion grows. I don’t think I am making excuses for what he did. Perhaps this compassion is part of forgiveness.