Did you grow up in a Christian home?
That is a difficult question to answer. I would have to say “No,” and this is why. My father was an abuser in the worst ways possible. At least some of my siblings and I were deathly afraid of our dad. Hatred, violence, yelling, and multiple levels of abuse toward us and toward our mother were what we knew and experienced on a consistent basis. My goal was usually to avoid him as much as possible so that I did not have to face his wrath. After my aunt set up an appointment for me and one sister (ages 12 & 15, maybe) to talk with our pastor about the physical abuse of our mother, my father was committed to a mental hospital for I think about 1.5 years (my sophomore and junior years of high school), but not because he beat our mother. The pastor said he could do nothing about that unless our mother pressed charges, which she probably would not have done. It was because God gave me the courage to tell him about the other abuses of us kids that Dad was committed.
My dad, though, was like the Pharisees. He taught legalistic Christianity at home, and he enforced it, too – you can’t drink, smoke, play cards, dance, or go to movies. We had to stay dressed up every Sunday, and we were not allowed to play with our friends on that day. And, if we put anything on top of a Bible, “wham!” That was an absolute no-no.
My mom was abused by my dad severely. I think maybe she dealt with the abuse by withdrawing into TV shows, or into her sewing or cooking/baking. We didn’t talk much. I tried, but felt like it went nowhere. I never felt she loved me. She would never say she did. She didn’t hug me or console me. She didn’t believe in praise. That wasn’t her way. She felt like she wasn’t supposed to have kids and often lamented that she wasn’t a very good mother. She was a good woman. Don’t get me wrong. And, when I was sick, she was the best! She took very good care of my physical needs, but not my emotional needs or my spiritual needs. I just couldn’t communicate with her on that level, although I tried. I just don’t think she understood me. She wasn’t like me, and I wasn’t like her, although now I do remind me of her, at times, in my looks, my mannerisms, and even in my quietness. I am not the bubbly outgoing type, and neither was my mom. But, she did a lot of good stuff for people, and she had many friends. I don’t think she knew a stranger.
But, I did grow up going to church. We went pretty much every time the doors were open. I was there Sunday mornings and nights, Wednesday nights, and for any extra services, like during missions’ conference, as long as we had transportation to get there. We didn’t always. I also got to go to church camp for a week just about every summer, because either my aunt or a lady from church would pay my way, so that was a blessing. That was heaven to me (Beulah Beach Camp), which is where I believed in Jesus to be my Lord and Savior, probably at the age of 7. As a teenager, I was also involved in youth group and Pioneer girls. My mom was always supportive of us getting involved in the church, and made certain we got there to the meetings. The church denomination was C&MA (the same as A.W. Tozer), so it was a very solidly biblical evangelical church where I heard much preaching on holiness, godliness, and the fruit of the Spirit, etc. So, I am so thankful to the Lord for that. That gave me a very good foundation for my Christian walk of faith. God is so good!
Share a little here how has this affected you?
Well, although I knew that God loved me, and he was there to comfort me, to encourage and strengthen me, as I cried myself to sleep many, many nights, I had this idea of God that he was not able to do anything about my circumstances, i.e. that he was not completely sovereign over my life and circumstances, and thus Satan had power over my life, although he didn’t, because I was a child of God. If you asked me if God was all powerful and completely sovereign I would say “Yes,” because that is what I believed with my mind, but my reactions often to my circumstances spoke just the opposite. My mind believed one thing, but my emotions believed another, which was obvious by how I often responded. And, I felt powerless to do anything about it, either, other than the Lord did give me the courage to tell the pastor about the abuses, and then when my dad came home from the hospital, and he tried again, I had the courage to tell my mom. The physical abuse stopped at that time, but not the emotional/mental/verbal abuse. It continued big time!
So, I lacked a lot of confidence, I was easily taken advantage of by others, and I didn’t believe I had the mental ability to learn much of anything beyond the Bible, especially anything having to do with social studies or science, politics, and the like. I graduated high school with a 1.4/4.0 GPA. I entered college, too, reading on a 4th grade level. I had a very hard time having an intimate relationship with my husband early on and I had a lot of hurts stored up inside of me which I stuffed inside because I had no one willing to listen to me. I felt very alone a lot of the time. And, I had a hard time knowing how to be a mother, too, but I learned. But, God healed me. He delivered me out of my fears, though I still have to fight them off sometimes, and he filled me with his joy! He loved me in ways no human ever could, and through all that I suffered, my love for him grew deeper and deeper.
I had a strong hunger for God and for his Word very early on in my life, and I just drank in the Word and wanted to grow in my walk of faith and to obey my Lord in being who he wanted me to be. I didn’t want anything to do with hypocrisy, which was modeled to me by my father, but I wanted a relationship with Jesus Christ which was real, and alive, not fake. I believe God used all the abuses in my life, and there were more, to draw me closer to him, and to make me into the person I am today, so that he could use me now in the way in which he uses me, for his glory and purposes, to be a light in a dark world in sharing his truths to the people of this world via the internet. Had I not gone through what I went through, I don’t believe I would know God’s heart like I do, and feel what he feels, and have the passion he has given me for this ministry. So, although Satan meant the bad things for evil in my life, God meant them for good, for the praise of his glory in my life. All glory to God!
