The Well of My Soul

I believe that God saw that I was unloved as a child. That’s why He found me.

The well of my tiny soul had no water and my eyes gave no light. Then, I met Him. In my room at the age of three, pegged against a wall of suffering, waiting for my body to stop shaking from the pain of rape at the hands of my father.

Jesus came to me and I found the one my soul still loves.

I was never completely alone again.

It’s an odd concept, really. How, as a child that had not been churched, did I find Jesus?

It wasn’t like the rapes stopped occurring or all of the abusive treatment and language around me went away. That’s not what happened. Everything stayed the same but I was different. I knew I was not alone.

Faith is the evidence of the things we do not see.

Without faith, I would’ve been limited to the very narrow world comprehended through just my senses. I was too young to determine anything else. I had not yet received the instruction that my mind would give me years later.

Through my ability to deny, my mind did instruct me to manipulate my circumstances by twisting or blocking true events, but my faith never left me. In fact, it was my faith that sparked me on.

My father had a god he talked about from time to time. This was not the Jesus I met.

The God I knew told me I didn’t have to stay around abusive people. He wanted me to be free. That it was ok to say that I came from no love. It was ok to tell the whole truth of my story – the unadulterated truth.

Those aren’t easy lessons, but they were the very lessons that set me free.

My course is now unencumbered with the excuses that I have to stay. I am not weighted down with false notion that I have to find the ability to love the very people who not only put me in prison, but – most importantly, would keep me there through my silence.

How would my love help that anyway? They need God’s love, not mine.

Oh, I forgive them. That’s part of my freedom. I just don’t live with BS religious rules that keep me stuck.

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