I grew up internalizing that unless I was 100% obedient to my parents and therefore God I had no right to hold others accountable for how they treated me. Scripture was used to mute my voice.
The weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy and faithfulness were overlooked.
In a sense we have worn ourselves out serving others. The beautiful vice of busyness, often lauded by our church culture, is an acceptable numbing and addictive agent in the lives of those deeply wounded.
Yet in this deep contentment I sometimes wonder what I could have been had the twenty something years of abuse not happened.
What if I wasn’t so broken?
Where could I be today if I hadn’t been abused?
Ms. Azalea survived her season of drought. She lost many leaves due to my negligence, but she rebounded well. I decided I better do a little research to understand how […]
We were the quintessential Christian family. My dad served as the Sunday School Superintendent, my mom led women’s Bible studies, and my brother was a stand-out vocalist. Every week, my […]
I have failed to be a healer. My journey to heal should make me more aware of others’ pain. I should be tuned to the frequency of wrestling with […]
Last week I was caught in a political crossfire, of sorts. You know… the kind that happens at all of our places of employment. One of the hairs of the […]
A clearance sale! Yes! I walked over to the temporary shelves placed in the front of our grocery store. I can’t pass up a good buy so I headed over, […]
The father of lies would have me interpret my wounds as evidence of damaged goods, beyond repair, hopeless, destroyed beauty, marred beyond recognition. And I will confess that I wrestle […]
Wounded ~ Healer ~ Warrior 