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MENDING A SHATTERED SOUL

February 24, 2006

By Dawn M Turner

 

 

“Jesus saith unto him, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life; no man cometh unto the Father but by me.’”  (KJV – John 14:6)

 

 

 

 

Is it truly possible to mend a shattered soul?  I mean, TRULY mend it.  Without lingering pockets of festering hatred, bitterness, sorrow or shame?  I have pondered that question or variations of it at different times in my life and for various reasons.  So often in the past, I abandoned the question with a feeling of hopelessness, quite certain that once a soul is shattered into such a disarray of tiny fragments there is no way to repair the damage.  But God has a way of shaking us out of such appalling certainties.

 

For the last few years, I have felt God pulling at me, shaping me, molding me, trying to help me become a creation fully after His will, to walk His chosen path instead of one of my own making.  Unfortunately, that narrow path of His choosing has often meant stepping backwards into the past to deal with hurt, shame, guilt or anger that continued to dictate my life, as well as damage my heart and soul.  That walk has been anything but easy.  In fact, there are days I think it is far too difficult to go further and want nothing more than to turn back, take the familiar and comfortable road, even if it wasn’t a happy road.  Then He nudges me along, lending me courage and strength, and reminding me that the oh-so-familiar and comfortable path leads only to destruction and further pain.

 

I have often looked at the scars over my soul and thought all was well.  Scars mean healing, right?  Then God showed me the truth.  A wound can heal at the surface while quietly festering into an abscess underneath, spreading infection to the rest of the body, even leading to death.  Such a scar must be lanced, thoroughly cleansed of infection and helped to heal properly from the inside.  That is never a painless process, and in fact often brings with it as much pain or even more than the original injury.

 

Such wounds to the soul are the same way.  Often we struggle with the original hurt, scab and scar it over through our own devices, and tell ourselves we are healed.  While underneath the surface, hatred, bitterness, sorrow, shame or fear fester and spread like an infection.  Over time, those emotions become more pronounced, increasingly demanding of our time and energy to hold them at bay so we can convince ourselves all is well.  Meanwhile they deaden our ability to experience true joy, peace and contentment.

 

I have had many such scars in my life.  Some God has revealed, cleansed and is healing.  Others, I know, remain to be cleansed.  Sometimes these insights come step by step, one by one, and gradually as time passes.  Other times, they hit in very rapid succession, almost overwhelming and crippling in their power.  In the last few months, these things have come in rapid succession in various and often-unusual forms.

 

At the very root of the hurt in my life lies one event that is always in my mind for one reason or another.  Most of my friends and all of my family know about the cousin who molested me when I was ten years old.  What some don’t know in full is how that event affected my faith, and how God short-circuited what he knew was coming, at least in part.  Let me step a short time back before that major event.

 

After we moved to Florida when I was ten, I accepted Christ as my personal savior.  It was not a matter of simply making the decision, if there is such a thing as “simple” with that decision.  That morning, sitting in church, seemed like any other Sunday.  No warning of things to come.  No understanding of how God’s hand was about to take hold of my life in a remarkable way.  When the altar call came, I was struck by the most powerful desire to walk to the front.  It was a very physical thing as well as spiritual.  Like a rope had been tied around me and was forcibly trying to draw me to the front of the church.  A little voice in my head resisted, telling me I would surely get in trouble for disrupting church and I better stay in my seat like a good girl.  That voice won, until we got to the car, at which time I broke down and told my mother.  She assured me I would NOT have gotten in trouble, which I knew on a logical level (as logical as a ten year old can be anyway), but I let the voice of fear defeat me for that short time.  I was baptized shortly thereafter.

 

Within a few months of that decision, the molestation occurred.  I, like most victims, carried the weight of guilt and shame on my own shoulders.  Along with that came the certainty that God couldn’t possibly love someone as horrible as me.  Look at what I had done!  I knew I couldn’t tell anyone.  It would destroy my family if they knew.  So I carried it in silence, believing myself to be alone.

 

That stayed with me for many years, tainting my interactions with others as well as putting a barrier between me and the One who could help me most.  There were times in my teens when I freely admit suicide occurred to me.  But I KNEW God was real, and I knew he frowned heavily on self-murder, so I couldn’t bring myself to risk his wrath in that manner.  That, along with the love of my parents, got me through my teens alive, if not whole.

 

My husband and I met and married in 1993.  I told him about my cousin while we were dating.  On some level, I thought it would drive him away.  I thought knowing what had happened would make him see I wasn't worthy of his love.  But God knew better.  Ben was very understanding and supportive then and he has remained so over the years, even when I know it was extremely difficult.  I know God set him in my path, knowing I needed Ben’s gifts for compassion and gentleness.  Among His greatest and most precious blessings in my life.

 

Still the secret stayed close to my heart….

 

It would be the fall I turned 26 before my family knew the truth.  And that came in the most unlikely of ways.  A simple phone call with a short question – “Did James ever hurt you?”  I was stunned to silence.  I didn’t know what to say, how to respond.  I couldn’t lie about such a thing, and certainly not to my own sister.  My silence was all the answer she needed.  As circumstances would have it, my youngest sister had gone to visit her and the truth had come out.  He had molested her, too.

 

On hearing that news, guilt compounded.  I had failed.  Failed to protect her.  Failed to keep her safe.  He had threatened her if I didn’t cooperate.  I cooperated, and he hurt her anyway.  What had I done wrong?  Why had he hurt her?

 

Needless to say, with the truth being out amongst the three of us sisters, the time had come to share that horrible secret with our parents.  That was one of the hardest things I think I will ever do in my life.  I knew it would hurt them, and I hated to be party to that.  But God knew it was time for light to be shed on that dark secret so hearts and souls could truly heal and the festering infection could be stopped.

 

Over the following year and a half, I battled with myself over anger that fought for control of me.  I had rages that, fortunately, never caused harm to anyone but me.  I would become so angry at times, I would literally see red or black.  I had heard of such things, but I never believed you could be so angry as to see red or black around the edges of your vision.  It was like looking through one of those clouded camera lenses - you know the ones that professionals use to do portraits when they want the outer area to be clouded or colored?  Anything would set me off.  Even something incredibly minor could send me flying into a rage.  Even though my husband was there, and I know it worried him considerably to see me like that, I felt incredibly alone.

 

The summer of 1998, I finally sought counseling.  Through things that were happening in my life, I realized I couldn't fight the battle alone anymore.  God has a way of setting people in our path that can help us take the steps we must take to mature and grow closer to him.  Sometimes they are tiny baby steps.  Other times they are leaps.  The counselor, for me, was a mighty leap.  Just admitting I couldn't do it alone was a very difficult admission for me, but it was also the start of a cascade that completely turned my feelings about my faith around.  The counselor helped me see that I was destroying myself emotionally for a crime that was NOT my fault.  She helped me place the anger where it belonged - on my cousin's doorstep.  That day, I finally allowed myself to be angry with him for what he had taken from me, my innocence, my childhood, and my ability to like myself and appreciate my own gifts.  I never had another rage from that day forward.

 

It took a long time for me to come to grips with the guilt and shame.  You can tell a victim over and over again that a crime was NOT their fault.  I knew that.  I had always KNOWN that, to some degree or another.  The crime was HIS, not mine.  But there’s a big difference between knowing in the mind and believing in the heart.  The freedom that came that June when I finally put the anger and guilt squarely where they belonged – on James’ shoulders – was amazing and refreshing.

 

September 1998 brought another turning point in my life – the reality that God DOES love me.  And it came in a very unlikely fashion.  Through a German shepherd named Ashlee Renee.  Ashlee had been sick for the better part of her all-too-short life.  I put a great many miles on our car taking her back and forth to the vet about 35 miles from home.  Often weekly, sometimes less often, journeys I always made with fear and a heavy heart.  Deep in my wounded soul, I knew the time might come when the battle would be lost and we would have nothing left to offer her but a peaceful end.  That time came far too quickly that September.

 

One Friday afternoon, as I drove Ashlee to the vet for an emergency appointment, I was in tears and praying hard for the first time in a very long time.  The drive was so familiar, but the desperation of this particular drive was not.  She was not doing well.  I knew the end was coming far faster than I wanted it to.  I pleaded that, if the time was coming for her to leave us, God would give us just one more weekend to say goodbye.  Just one more.  That weekend was not good, nor was the week that followed.  However, the following Friday I came home from work and Ashlee was energetic, playful, and bright-eyed in a way she had never been.  She was that way all through the weekend.  It was a great weekend, and I jealously guard the memories I hold from that bright weekend.

 

Sunday evening late, she rapidly went downhill again, this time dropping further than she ever had before.  I made the decision that night, when I couldn't sleep, to have her put to sleep the next morning.  After I arrived at work the next morning, I called the vet.  My boss told me to go take care of Ashlee and take a couple of days off if I needed it.  He was very sympathetic and supportive.  A friend's husband, who was a co-worker at the time, drove us to the vet for that last trip.  My youngest sister was there, unbeknownst to me, for an appointment with her own dog, so I had family close during the most difficult of times.  The vet shed tears with me when we put Ashlee down.  He had fought as hard and strong as I had, so he felt the loss as well.  She went quickly and quietly.  He said he never had a dog go so quickly.  Her heart stopped almost the instant he did the injection.  There was no final breath.  Not so much as a twitch of a paw.  Just peace.  She was completely exhausted from her long fight.

 

The next day, when I was driving to SV to take care of things to get Ashlee cremated, I started asking why she had to go.  Why did she do so well and then fall so far out of reach just as quickly?  I can't say I heard the response.  It was more a sense of a presence and feeling the words than hearing them.  I don't know how else to explain it.  The answer was simple.  "Because you asked."  There was so much love and warmth in that presence.  I knew what He meant, and it answered all my questions.  I had gotten the weekend I asked for.  Nothing more, but nothing less, than a weekend.  But it was so much more, because it was such a wonderful weekend.  And I didn't feel so alone anymore.  For the first time in my life, I truly felt that God was there, and that he loved me, despite my mistakes.  In that moment, I felt absolute peace, even in the midst of profound grief.

 

Even now, talking about this, writing about it, has me dissolving in tears on the keyboard.  I still miss Ashlee so much.  She taught me so much and brought so much more to my life than most people will ever know.  Perhaps the most important thing of all - she brought me back to my Lord.

 

It has been a long road since then.  So many things have happened.  I haven’t always made it easy for Him to guide and help me along.  I get comfortable and decide to pick up the reins of my life and choose my own path once again.  At times, I think I can almost see him standing above, looking down with that all-knowing, long-suffering smile of understanding, saying “Oh, my child, when will you learn?  Your way does NOT work.”  I may wander far and wide, but always, when I fall flat on my face because the road I’ve chosen is not the right one, I call out to Him.  Being the merciful and loving Father that He is, He is there to help me up.  He brushes me off and sets me back on His path, giving me a nudge in the direction He would have me go.

 

Often the events that cause me to stumble come in the form of adversity, tragedies or pain in and around my life that I can’t handle alone.  Sometimes they come in the loving admonishment or encouragement of a friend who may not even know the full extent of the battle I wage.  Sometimes words of support from a family member reminds me where I should be headed.  Sometimes the nudge letting me know I must redirect my path to His comes from the four canines that share my home and life.

 

In the last handful of months, adversity has come in many forms – 3 deaths in the family, one of my dogs getting sick for a very short time, pets of friends becoming ill, the serious illness of a friend, the threat of cancer in a very close friend, as well as my own medical issues.  Even something as seemingly mundane as training dogs strikes unexpected chords.  Each stirs up emotions.  Some sweeping and overwhelming; others less so.  Each brings new insights into my Heavenly Father and myself.

 

I face life knowing I am not alone.  No matter how bad things get, or what life throws my way, I have only to remind myself that God is in control and he cares even more than I do about what happens in my life, and I feel peace.  When my husband lost his job a couple of years ago, I was at peace, even though that meant no income.  I knew God would bring a job for him when the time was right, and He did.  And I'm not talking about a general sense of peace; I'm talking about a soul deep, nothing worries you type of absolute peace that comes from knowing all is well in your life.  I have felt that often over the last few years when life has been at its most turbulent.  Only God's peace and love can bring that level of comfort with the turbulence of life.  And God has been good and honored his promise to care for things in my life.  Just as the Bible says he will.

 

Two verses in scripture stand out most for me in the scriptures to remind me how much God loves each individual.  They have gotten me through many times of doubt during recent years.

 

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.  For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.”  (KJV – John 3:16-17)

 

"Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth."  (KJV – Luke 15:10)

 

He cares more about what happens in my life even than I do.  As staggering as that realization STILL is to me, I know it’s true.  And in the process of following His will, yes, I have to face pains of the past and lance those deeply abscessed wounds.  But, I also gain strength in Him and through Him, and a shattered soul is slowly and lovingly mended.  He alone can restore my soul, and repair a damaged heart at the same time.  He alone, with the help of those who so often allow themselves to be instruments of His love and wisdom.

 

Our pastor said something several months ago that continues to stay with me.  He talked about the importance of sharing our gifts with others, especially during their times of need.  But, then he reminded us that, equally important, was allowing our brothers and sisters in Christ to help US during our times of need.  I realized then that I have spent the better part of my life not only hiding my vulnerability from others but also selfishly preventing them from using their own gifts.  Step by step, God is helping me rebuild trust in those around me as well as helping me set aside fear and selfishness so I can reach out to others for support, encouragement and accountability and allow them to freely exercise the gifts God has given them.  This is a never-ending battle for me.  Years of habit built through distrust and fear still vie for control.  Sometimes it wins.  More often these days, it doesn’t and I manage to reach out before life becomes so unbearable that I feel like I’m drowning.  And someone is always there, just when I need a hug, a word, or a prayer.  I pray I can be as much a blessing to them as they frequently are to me.

 

I will always bear scars.  But they are the marks of a survivor, a soldier in His battle.  And I can wear them proudly, knowing he has taught me much through them.  There are more infections to cleanse, and those will come in time.  His time.  There will always be new wounds to heal, as we live in a turbulent fallen world surrounded by death and evil.  But I know I don’t have to deal with them alone.  He will always be there.  I have no doubt of that now.

 

I have often wondered why God chose to reveal himself to me in such a tangible way when I was ten.  I think I see, now, what His plan was.  He knew what was to come.  He knew the molestation lay ahead, along with all the hurts associated with it – both those brought on by other people as well as those brought on by my own determination to handle things myself.  He also knew the thoughts of suicide I would entertain later.  And He knew EXACTLY what it would take to keep me from giving into Satan’s encouragements toward self-destruction – the irrefutable knowledge in my heart and mind that He was real!  Even if I chose not to believe in His love for a time, he knew the knowledge of His existence would prevent me from making the one choice I couldn’t take back.  He knew that He was the only one who can mend a shattered soul.

 

It’s kind of funny when I think about it.  I used to think there was NO WAY God could love a creature as flawed and undeserving as me.  The funny part is that I was right to a small degree.  I don’t deserve God’s love and mercy.  None of us do.  Our sinful human natures separated us from Him the moment Adam and Eve rebelled in the Garden.  But His love surpasses that.  He revealed this in the most tangible way he could – the sacrifice of His son.  When I think about that, it awes and humbles me.  To think he not only LOVES me, but he WANTS me, flaws and all, is nothing short of amazing to me!  I pray I can do His mercy, love and grace the justice it truly deserves.  Scarred soul, damaged heart and endless flaws to His eternal service.

 

“And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”  (KJV – Romans 8:28)

 

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”  (KJV – 2 Timothy 1:7)

 

“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.  Not of works, lest any man should boast.”  (KJV – Ephesians 2:8-9)

 

Thank you to a marvelous artist for a beautiful work of art

that so clearly illustrates how I feel!

 

 

Cross graphic courtesy of www.ChristArt.com.

 

 

 

 

 

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