Precious

There have been many dark days in my life.  I understand the pain of betrayal.  I have lived where no child should have to live without some basic needs.  I know the fear of being on the wrong end of a gun.  I have been verbally, emotionally and physically beaten down.  

Yet, I now know I was never alone.  I could have been brought to an utter end but was not.  And this was before I knew Jesus.  Now that I know Him, He shows me his love for me over and over again.  And I have a new perspective looking back on those dark days.  Jesus has proven Himself faithful to me over and over again.  He has blessed my life.  Each day, He helps me to move closer to wholeness through Him.  There are no words to express my love and gratitude to Jesus for the peace and hope He has lavished on me.  

Why would He do this for me?  Because He loves me, and I am His.  I am precious in His eyes.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you”        

Isaiah 43:1-4 ESV

Grateful Heart

Another reason to share my story and journey to healing is to give glory to my Rescuer who not only rescued me once but many times and stayed with me even in my anger.

I first met Him late in the evening and my spirit was tormented. There was no safe place, and there seemed to be no hope. I longed for death to rescue me – thinking that was my only hope. I was fourteen. All I knew was living with my parents. They were in complete control of me. I lived in the middle of no where – quite literally. I watched other girls at school drop out due to pregnancy and get married. Next time you see them, they have a kid on their hip and a black eye from their husband. If this is all life is, to trade one tormentor for another, then I don’t want any part of it. But death is scary too. My heart cried out and then my mind (so not to be heard), “Jesus please help me!” It was a cry of desperation to someone I didn’t even know. He was just that guy my parents fought about. Mom believed. Dad hated him. But almost as soon as the thought passed, I felt someone wrap their arms around me. There was no fear at being touched – only peace. Then I realized there wasn’t anyone there and sleep took me. The next morning on the school bus, the years of bottled tears started to flow. I tried desperately to stop and hide them. I needed to hide them – my life and my mom’s life depended on me keeping everything secret. But to no avail. The tears simply would not stop. My only friend cornered me and would not leave me alone. I finally gave in. “You must tell your mom.”

The story goes on from there and not with a “and they lived happily ever after.” More on that later. So why was my prayer answered? Was it because I was just a child? Was it because I called out to Jesus with every fiber of my being? Was it to save my life? I will never know this side of heaven. Maybe He saved me so He could heal me so I could help rescue others. Whatever the answer, I will forever be grateful. And I fought with Him over the next two decades, but He never let go of me. And for that, I love Him.