When did my faith become real? I believe receiving faith is never-ending; therefore, my faith becomes more real with each “real” season I experience. I recently told a friend that my current season of tribulations was like a bad reality TV show, and that I sincerely hoped that it would not be picked up for another season.
All joking aside, one of the worst trials I have ever had to go through was when I was a child. I was sexually abused. That terrible season has left many battle wounds and scars that still have not completely healed.
That experience led me to live a life that was not always conducive to spiritual growth. I lived in fear of others…especially men. My relational skills were lacking, and thus my communication skills followed suit. Because I let my anger get the best of me, I became one who began to contribute to the pain of others. The pain I caused was mainly due to my own selfish idols, and of my own making.
I was like a horse wearing blinders. I could not see the pain I was causing others because of the pain I harbored inside, or even the pain I was causing myself.
As a result of my past abuse I have carried a backpack full of idols, pain, and fear. I lack self confidence. I am a skeptic when it comes to thinking that my Father could give me the grace of forgiveness that I so desire. Even though I did not wish this abuse on myself, in the back of my mind I always wonder if I deserved it.
My husband, Sam, has explained his take on the situation. If I had gone into the doctor’s office to get a physical, and several days later I got strep throat…did that mean I wanted to get strep throat? Of course not, nor did I expect to get it. Strep throat causes many to become quite ill. In fact, I usually get a headache and nausea along with it–making it a triple whammy! Under the circumstances, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I never asked for the strep throat, and I certainly never asked for the abuse. My friend described the abuse like an illness that was given to me. I couldn’t help it! It was given to me. I was so very young, and the abuser had no right to pin the abuse on me as my fault. To threaten me with harsh words, and fists to body…warning me to never tell or he would beat me up. No child deserves to be treated with such disrespect. To be made to feel like scum, and then told that no one will ever want them because they were tainted.
I believed him!
I have always wanted to run in a race; but, definitely lacked the passion to train. Trust me, I am no runner. When I was at Baylor University I was on the track team; but, as a javelin thrower. Running was definitely not my forte. In fact, one year I did not qualify in the javelin for the Texas Relays, so I had to run the 10K. It took me an hour and six minutes to run that race. The man who ran the half marathon passed me up. BTW…now I would be lucky to walk a 10K.
Now I am remembering that I have this awfully heavy backpack, and I am thinking how do I run with a heavy backpack? I see the military, or fitness gurus running with heavy loads to train; but, I don’t want to train with a heavy backpack. I am not a fitness guru, and I definitely don’t want to train with a heavy load. It would be extremely hard!
So how do I lighten the load in my backpack? I have carried the load for many years. I have become quite attached to my many idols, and I don’t know which ones should stay or go.
Then my Heavenly Father suggests to me to give Him my backpack. I asked Him, “Why do you want my backpack?”
He answered, “Because, I love you, and I want you to run to me. I want you to fix your eyes on Me. I have made a promise to carry your heavy burdens, and I want you to run the race that is set before you.”
Okay, so even if I were to give Him my backpack, how would that help me to see Him? How would that allow me a clearer vision to be able to run to Him?
I know now that I lacked a true passion for recognizing my Father, and his promise that He made to me. I lacked faith and hope in the words He was telling me to obey. I must really enjoy my bad reality TV show because that’s where I was headed…back to “seasons gone bad.”
I tried to focus on Him; but, I could not see Him at all. I only recognized my stepfather, and all of the horrible things he had done and/or told me. He was no father to me. He did not protect me, or love me. I became scared…so much so, that a couple of times during the race I considered suicide as an alternative to facing my fears. Truth is, my own hindrances of my own idols were causing me to lack the faith I needed to run the race…to run the race with patient endurance.
I wanted to hurry up and train for the race my way. I wanted to be in control. In the back of my mind I wondered if I could run the race by myself? Did I really need my Father? Could I train without any help, because asking for help might mean I was weak? I certainly did not want to look weak and unworthy to anyone. I mean my stepfather did say that no one would want someone as worthless as myself. I wanted to believe I could prove my stepfather wrong.
I learned quickly that training, and running alone, did not seem to be working for me. Training by myself, I noticed that I seem to fail every time. I was extremely out of shape.
I wondered do I really to need the “Author and Finisher” of my faith to help me train for this race? Does He really know what path to take to get to the finish line? Would He really be the only One who would be able to keep me from “jumping the gun” at the start of the race, and would certainly keep me from facing disqualification? Would He do this for me just because He loved me?
I had to really dig deep inside to see what I really desired. Did I want to continue carrying my heavy backpack, or give it freely to Him? My faith was lacking; but, He told me, “Come ye who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” He was telling me to cast my burdens upon Him, and He in turn would help me cross the finish line so that I could rest. I definitely need rest. I look horrible!
With His help, I found the faith, hope, and strength to go the distance…even when I could not always see the finish line. I knew that I would be able to reach the prize–which had already been fulfilled by Him. I knew that He would give me rest.
I have decided that my faith in Him should not be just wishful thinking, but having a true passion; a trusting confidence that His promise of grace is for me–despite my past secrets, my present idols, or my future mistakes. Through faith, God’s grace gives me freedom to be me—broken and scarred.
So when did my faith become real? Every time I step out the door and experience various seasons. Just putting one foot in front of the other, and walking out the door. Now that’s having real faith to me!
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen.” ~ Hebrews 11:1