As I re-read my first post, I realize if you don't know me, you may have thought it rather egotistical of me to feel driven to get my story out. As I've had to accept the reality that this is the last year I will be able to co-facilitate a group for sexually abused women, I've been saddened. A precious friend recommended a blog. I had to ask what that was and she was gracious enough to set it up for me. I am so grateful for this new outlet.
In this post. I will attempt to explain why I feel driven to get the complete story out.
In the late 1990's, I had been on a healing journey for about ten years. But, although God had done a mighty work in me through those years, I carried shame like a heavy cloak. God is faithful and what He begins He will complete.
Our church, Island United Methodist, had a lay revival that lasted three months. It was a powerful move of God and drew people from surrounding towns and even another state. Three experiences during this revival set me free and gave me a passion and purpose that time has only intensified.
The first was when a friend came up to me and said laughingly, "Betty, I had a dream about you last night." I laughed, too, and asked her to tell me about it. In her dream, she had come to my home for a visit. I was dressed and just leaving, so I invited her to come along. She did, and we drove until we reached a rather large church. "What are we doing here?" my friend asked. I assured her that she would soon see. We walked into the church and it was packed with women. "Betty, you walked to the podium. You were there to speak with them." I had laughed with her until she spoke that last sentence. But, I began to cry as I realized in my spirit that this was no ordinary dream. My heart hurt with the conviction that God was letting me know that He had a message He wanted to speak through me. But, I had no idea what I had to say to anyone. I was puzzled.
The next night, I sat listening as the young man behind me stood and told of how God had delivered him from a life of alcohol and drugs and of how He was now using his testimony to deliver others. As had happened with my friend's dream, a sharp pain tore through my heart. I could only bow my head as the tears flowed. But, my heart cried out silently, "Oh, God! I wish I had a testimony that would help others, but mine is too full of shame." I didn't think of that as a prayer, but God hears the cry of our heart.
A few days later, I sat down in the recliner at home. As I rested, I heard a voice that I recognized immediately, though I'd never heard it before. I can only describe it as one of gentle authority. He spoke the following words that are seared in my heart and mind: "Your testimony is not a testimony of shame. It's a testimony of praise; because it's not about you, it's about Me and what I've done in your life and I want you to tell it."
I jumped out of that recliner clapping my hands and praising our God. And, as I did, that ugly robe of shame dropped from me never to be worn again.
Now I was free, and I knew the message He wanted me to get out for women who hurt as I did for many years.
Some of you will question the reality of what I've just written. But, others of you will be able to relate as you, too, have heard the voice of the God who created the universe. The cross has made Him accessible to us.
Now that I have set the stage, I will begin next time, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to tell the story of what God has done in my life. Although I've lived the story it is not about me. To the extent I make it that, I will have failed. To the extent I make it His story, I will be obedient and it will be a story He can use in the lives of his precious daughters.
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