 
His Miracle of Forgiveness

By Julia Charleston

Copyright © 2015 by Julia Charleston  
Smashwords Edition

Edited by Jan Palmer  
Cover Design by Jenni Hodges

All names in this book have been changed to protect the parties involved.

Smashwords Edition License Notes  
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard of this author.
This book is dedicated to Lee.

" _If we really want to love  
we must learn how to forgive."  
_~Mother Teresa
Contents

Forward

Chapter One: Father Forgive Them

Chapter Two: Why Do We Need to Forgive Anyway?

Chapter Three: My Favorite Daughter

Chapter Four: Undeserved Grace

Chapter Five: Enter Through the Narrow Gate

Chapter Six: Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

Chapter Seven: Heap Those Burning Coals

Chapter Eight: I Forgive You...Not!

Chapter Nine: Where's My Apology?

Chapter Ten: Forgive Even a Murderer?

Chapter Eleven: Give It Up

Chapter Twelve: Amazing Grace

Epilogue: The Other Miracle

Bibliography

Resources

Acknowledgements

About The Author
FORWARD

An eight year old girl sits at her grandmother's house and peers from across the room at the casket where her father lies. She wonders why her dad chose to put a gun to his head, leaving her alone and unloved.

Four years later she lies sleeping in her bed. She awakens, alarmed, to see her step-dad standing over her with a grin on his face and his hands under her covers.

A month later her mother rejects her cry that she's not safe, and chooses to defend and stay with the drunk who sneaks into her daughter's room at night.

Three years later she is in a park with her only friend who convinced her to leave the house in the middle of the night to chase after drink and adventure, only to be abandoned over and over again.

Two years after that she runs off with a man seven years older than her to escape the rejection she has felt by everyone important to her in her seventeen years of life.

During her first year of marriage, she sits frozen in a car outside a boat marina where her husband has left her to wait while he goes inside to have sex with another woman.

She would spend the next 25 years paralyzed in fear and anger...unable to see, unable to feel, unable to love or to be loved, her dreams dashed; her hopes faded. This broken piece of china has been tossed aside like an old used paper plate. Over decades of darkness, lost in a world of hardened people and broken promises, sin and evil take hold; no light is getting through...and no one cares, including her.

I spent most of my life waiting for apologies that never came, hoping those who had wronged and hurt me would tell me how sorry they were for what they had done to me. Better yet, I felt justified in wanting them to suffer horrible deaths or meet with awful tragedy in their own lives as God's revenge on my behalf. I needed them to pay the price for their evil deeds, even if they were drunk at the time and did not know what they had done. Once I had my apologies and they suffered I would be able to live a life of purpose and meaning.

They needed to apologize. Only then would I be capable of loving and being loved, and finally find peace and joy in my world. Then I could forget: Forget I never got to know my father; forget my step-dad thought I was his property rather than his daughter; forget my mother chose not to protect me; forget that I am a bitter, broken person because no one, not one single person in the world, ever cared for me one little bit. The apologies would fix everything. Or so I thought.

God has been prompting me to write a book for a long time. I started and eventually abandoned the process many times, written tens of thousands of words, only to set each attempt aside, neglected and uncompleted. My thoughts have been sitting, simmering on paper, for several years. Clarity gradually emerged, but when God guided my heart to write a book about my struggle with forgiveness, my immediate reaction was fear. It was hard for me to believe that God would entrust me with the task of writing a book about my journey into such a personal and painful life lesson. I have had more than my fair share of times when I needed to forgive or be forgiven, and lived within the bondage of un-forgiveness for twenty-five years, but, despite my fear and misgivings, I was convinced of God's leading, and knew this was what He wanted me to do.

As I began to write, I saw my life story unfold on paper. I had to go back to my past, back to a very dark and difficult time. As I relived painful memories, I became discouraged and depressed. It was not an easy process. I stopped writing many times as I struggled, and even took a couple months off. One day, I was moping around the house, throwing a pity party for myself, not happy at all about having to go down dark memory lanes again, when God convicted me of my attitude. I felt like God was speaking clearly to my heart and wanted me to quit feeling sorry for myself and finish what He started in me.

Eventually, I began writing again, only this time I got caught up in the details of the book itself. Who would possibly want read it? Who might be offended by my recollections? Should I use real names? Would people judge me? I got so hung up on all these questions that I began to worry and again lost focus on what God wanted me to do. I had to keep reminding myself not to worry, that my job now was to simply write, and the rest would fall into place later. I never realized how long it would take to write a book or how difficult a road I would travel in the process.

I continued to allow life to get in the way, and make excuses for not writing, but it all came down to one fact: I was scared. Most of my life, I have allowed fear to control what I do. I came to the realization that if I want to be obedient to the call God has put on my life, I have to walk towards what makes me fearful.

One day I came across Proverbs 29:18 which states _"Where there is no vision, the people perish..."_ I realized my desire to write was perishing because I had no vision. I wanted to tell my story based on my experiences of forgiveness, but God wanted me to write HIS book based on my experiences, to send a message; HIS message of forgiveness, not mine. I came to the conclusion that the problem I was having with the book was me. I was getting in God's way. Finally, I had vision and I was able to overcome my fear to finish the work God started in me.

This has been a difficult road; there have been many bumps and detours along the way, but with God's help I have conquered my fears, kept my focus on His will for my life, and persevered. My prayer is that you will experience the wonderful freedom and complete restoration offered to us in Christ as you discover, with me, His Miracles of Forgiveness.

Back to Contents
Chapter one: FATHER FORGIVE THEM

_"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."  
_ ~Lewis B. Smedes

Forgiving someone who has hurt or abused us doesn't come easy or even make sense. It is much more natural to hold on to our hurt and pain, pick at our wound, and allow that wound to fester and putrefy. Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, year after year we claim past hurts don't bother us, but it is obvious on so many levels that they continue to hold us captive. Even as Christians, we can allow fear and anger to prevent us from growing and being transformed. We are stuck: stuck in the past; stuck in the darkness; stuck in the aloneness of our hurt and anger and pain is our only visible companion. Holding onto that pain is like putting salt into our own wound.

My life changed the day I realized God wanted me to let go of the past and its pain, because I had become a new person in Jesus Christ. Could I truly move beyond the abuse I had suffered to become a new person, able to live in the joy Jesus promises? I didn't know how to forgive, and I wasn't sure I wanted to learn. I wanted to believe it was possible to change, but all I had ever known was heartache and pain. I didn't know if I was capable of letting go of the past. It defined who I was; it was the only thing I knew I could count on. Pain was familiar territory. Besides, I was comfortable in my misery; misery and I had become best friends.

The hardest part of being a Christian for me is the fact that Jesus asks us to forgive those who have hurt us. Actually, He doesn't just ask, He commands us to forgive others.. When Jesus was dying on the cross, being ridiculed and mocked, tortured beyond belief, He asked God to forgive His offenders. How am I supposed to do that? How can I offer genuine forgiveness to someone who has deeply wronged me, who doesn't deserve my forgiveness after what he did to me? I won't, and I can't.

I cannot forgive someone on my own; twenty-five years of living in bondage has finally taught me that true forgiveness-full complete total forgiveness-only comes from a relationship with God. When a person makes the decision to allow Jesus into their heart, they become a new person and begin to grow and change. God slowly works to replace anger and resentment with forgiveness and love. We are not strong enough to let go of the past without God's power and strength.

Why is it so hard for us to forgive? We tend to hold onto hurts and pain to protect ourselves from being hurt again. We all do it. It's not in our human nature to forgive someone who has betrayed our trust in some way. Without forgiveness we can be forever bound to someone who has stolen our innocence, humiliated us, lied about us, used us, left us for someone else, or abused us in some way. How do we even begin to forgive someone who hurt us as a child, physically or sexually? How is it possible to forgive someone who took their own life and abandoned us with no explanation as to why they would kill themselves? How about murder? How does someone forgive a person who may have killed your wife, child, sister, brother, or the love of your life? How do we escape the destructive grip of a hurtful past?

My story includes some of those hard-to-forgive scenarios, but after spending many years in the bondage of un-forgiveness, I am happy to share my journey into freedom through the complete and total forgiveness God graciously mapped out for me and my family. I hope reading my story will give you hope and courage to invite Jesus into your prison of pain to begin your own faith journey to inner healing. If I could give you a step by step plan to true total forgiveness, Step One would be Invite Jesus into your heart and life. That's where genuine change begins...with Jesus!

My Story

My story is not unique, I'm nothing special. It is just another story in a long list of people living in a broken world. Although I have survived some tragic circumstances, I share a common bond with so many others whose horror stories I have heard. The tragedy is that our stories are not uncommon. It is my prayer that those who struggle with forgiveness can find strength and courage to begin a journey toward overwhelming victory in Christ Jesus.

My life growing up was different from other families I knew. I was the middle child of three with an older brother, David, and a younger sister, Stella. We lived a meager life, had very little, and no real prospects. The five of us lived in a two bedroom government-issued apartment in Smyrna, Georgia. My father was mentally ill, and had a hard time keeping a job, so my mother had to work odd jobs to make ends meet. He was in and out of hospitals a lot, and I became familiar with the surroundings of many psych wards at a very early age. My dad was generally an unhappy person, so I don't have many fond memories of my father.

Most memories of my dad are associated with depression and gloom. When I was very young, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my dad screaming at my mom. He had a gun, and was waving it around like a crazy man, yelling and screaming obscenities. I began crying, and ran to my mom's side, begging him not to kill her. He calmed me down, and assured me he was not going to kill my mom. When I asked him why he had the gun he told me there was a dog outside that wouldn't stop barking and it was the dog he wanted to kill. I didn't want him to shoot the dog, but was relieved he didn't want to hurt my mom. Dad carried me back to bed, and things calmed down. I found out many years later, after having a conversation with my mom about that night, that Dad was having one of his psychotic episodes and had accused her of sleeping around on him and he had threatened to kill her. I didn't know it yet, but God was with our family; for He woke me up just in time and used me to save my mom's life!

My dad's last Christmas here on the earth was a happy one; one of the rare blissful moments in Dad's life. I was eight years old, and I had decided to stay up late on Christmas Eve to meet Santa Claus. My parents came into our room to make sure we were asleep, and I held my breath hoping they would not notice I was still awake. After they closed the door and proceeded to go about the business of the night, I snuck out of bed and stood with my ear cupped over the bedroom door so that I could hear what was going on. My anticipation quickly turned into disappointment when I realized it was my parents who were putting the presents under the tree, not Santa. They had gotten my sister a Mrs. Beasley doll-the hot item for girls that year. My dad would pull her string, and the doll would say whatever Mrs. Beasley said, and my parents would laugh and laugh and laugh. They played with that doll for what seemed like hours and had the best time! It was a bittersweet realization that the only happy memory I have of my dad was one of the saddest nights of my childhood; for I realized that Christmas Eve night that there was no Santa Claus.

The beginning of the end of Dad's life came a month later with another vivid episode that haunts me to this day. As was not uncommon, Dad had become mentally unhinged and violent. He had lost all control. I am not sure what set him off, but he was in a rage! He had a box cutter knife, and had cut his jeans from the hem of the pants all the way up to his thighs, so that both sides of his jeans were cut open and his bare legs were exposed. He was yelling and screaming uncontrollably. He had picked up our pet bird, Petie, cage and all, and threw it across the room several times. We were terrified amongst the chaos. Stella and I were hiding down behind the couch; crouched down hoping Dad wouldn't notice us. The bird was squawking, Dad was screaming, mom was crying, and my brother and sister and I were so filled with terror we didn't have a clue as to what to do. During the insanity, Mom had called my aunt and uncle, who came over immediately to help diffuse the situation, but Dad was uncontrollable. Mom decided we needed to distance ourselves, and we left. She was a mother with three very young children, and she somehow found the courage to leave. Dad's condition had gotten worse, and Mom could no longer deal with the irrational, unpredictable, and now violent behavior. As Mom recalled that horrific scene years later, she stated she believed Dad had become a threat to all of us and felt God's hands leading her out the door. Our aunt and uncle lived a few miles away, and the four of us moved in with them for a few days.

Immediately after we left, Dad got into his truck and drove up 75N, then onto Highway 411N to get back home to Big Gully, Tennessee to be with his family. His truck broke down somewhere near Rydal, Georgia, so he began walking. He walked the remainder of the way which was over 100 miles.

Once he arrived home in Big Gully, Dad called my mom and begged her to come back home. She told him no, that we would not come home until he got the help he needed. Dad handed the phone to my uncle, and sadly stated, "She doesn't love me anymore." I often wonder what his issues were...where his struggles with darkness came from, who he needed to forgive in order to live a healthy life. With Mom still on the phone talking to my uncle, my dad went into a back room, put a shot gun in his mouth and blew his brains out.

In the hills of Tennessee, funerals are odd. My grandparents lived directly across from the little Baptist church they attended, and right next door to the cemetery where Dad was to be buried. It was common there to have the wake in your home, and it was convenient to have the church and cemetery so close. As we sat in my grandparents' living room, I noticed people crying and mourning. I just kept staring at Dad's face, waiting for his eyes to open and say, "Hey, my little JujiBell." I did not understand what was going on. I kept asking Mom question after question, "Why is dad just lying there?", "Is he going to wake up?" Mom explained to me that dad had died and gone to heaven and he wasn't coming back, but I still didn't get it. I just kept staring at his emotionless face from across the room. Mom invited me to go up to the casket to say goodbye to my father, but I refused. I gave my mom a really hard time. I didn't want to say goodbye, I just wanted my dad back. The day of his burial came, and my grandpa and uncles came dressed in suits, closed the casket and walked it over to the cemetery. And that was it. I no longer could look at my dad's face.

As the pastor began to speak, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs "STOP!" I had decided to say goodbye, but it was too late. They were already lowering the casket into the ground. My little eight year old heart was shattered into a million pieces, and I began to cry. I wept for the next three hours, repeating over and over again, "I never said goodbye to my daddy."

On January 26, 1973, my father's decision to end his life forever changed mine. It took me decades to get over his death. I had to come to terms with the fact that he had chosen to take his own life, and leave his wife and children behind. He decided that his life didn't matter anymore, but he didn't give a second thought as to how it might affect us for the rest of our lives.

How do you forgive someone who commits suicide and leaves you alone and fatherless? My dad was the first in a long line of people I had to learn to forgive.

As an adult, I have always hated Christmas, and I never truly understood why. Every November for thirty years, my anxiety level would rise at the thought of the upcoming holidays, and my joy would be zapped. I tried to enjoy the Christmas season, knowing this was the time we celebrate the birth of Christ, but every year I put on my mask as I counted down the days for January to roll around so that the season would be behind me for another year. My kids and husband absolutely love Christmas, but my joyless attitude robbed them of being able to fully enjoy this special time of year. As I penned this chapter, the reason for my distaste for the holiday season was revealed to me in that when I was eight years old; my bittersweet Christmas was the last Christmas I had with my dad. This revelation set me free as I was finally able let go of the heartache I had subconsciously harbored for decades, and I was able to find joy in the Christmas season once again.

Psalm 29:11 states _"The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace."_ Looking back now I can see God's hand of protection over my life. Once I accepted God's free gift of grace, He showed me that He is my Father, that He loves me unconditionally no matter what I do, or what others do to me; and even though my earthly father abandoned me, my Heavenly Father has always been there, in good times and in bad times my whole life, even when un-forgiveness threatened to undo me  
**  
Step One:** Ask Jesus into your heart.  
We are not able to forgive on our own; most situations are too big for us to handle. It's equally as difficult to acknowledge our own need for forgiveness. Taking this first step of asking Jesus into your heart and life will be the best decision you will ever make. You can do this right in your own home, right where you are. Your words do not have to be fancy or elaborate. Pray these simple words: "Jesus, I am a sinner. I believe you are God's son and that you died for my sin. Thank you for forgiving me. I confess I have un-forgiveness in my heart that is keeping me in bondage. I believe my healing begins with You. Please come into my life and heart and help me. Give me the courage to ask anyone I have hurt for their forgiveness, and help me forgive those who have hurt me. In your name I pray. Amen."

Back to Contents
Chapter Two: WHY DO WE NEED TO FORGIVE ANYWAY?

_"Forgiveness is freeing up and putting to better use the energy once consumed by holding  
grudges, harboring resentments, and nursing unhealed wounds. It is rediscovering the strengths  
we always had and relocating our limitless capacity to understand and accept other people and  
ourselves."  
_~Sidney and Suzanne Simon

On October 2, 2006, Charles Carl Roberts IV walked into a one room Amish schoolhouse armed with three guns, two knives and 600 rounds of ammunition. He lined all the hostages up against the blackboard and shot them at close range in the back of the head before killing himself. It was a horrible and heinous act of violence! Five days later, the Amish community gathered together at the funeral of Roberts, the shooter, and offered grace and forgiveness to his wife, Mrs. Roberts, and their three children. This scene shocked America. The community had just buried five of their children and five were hospitalized in critical condition. Uncertain whether the girls would live or die, the families of the victims went to the funeral of the man who was responsible. Their lives were interrupted by the senseless massacre that killed and wounded their daughters and yet they found the courage to immediately offer forgiveness to the shooter. They somehow let go of all resentment, bitterness and anger; instantly. "Amish people truly believe that their own forgiveness is bound up in their willingness to forgive others. For them, forgiveness is more than a good thing to do. It is the thing to do." That's what true forgiveness is.

How do we do that? How can anyone forgive so quickly? How can we simply forgive the persons who killed our daughters? Well...we can't do it on our own. We can only do it with Christ being in the center of our lives. God shows us the ability to see those people the way He sees them. He created our offenders with the same stuff he used to create you and me; He has a plan for them and will not give up, just as He will not give up on us. As difficult as it is to believe, God loves your abuser just as much as He loves you. He loves the woman who cut you off, the man who yelled at you, the son who swore at you, the sister that stole from you, he even loves the man who pulled the trigger that killed the Amish kids. He loves them just as much as He loves you.

My mother married Stan when I was nine. I have absolutely no recollection of the year that followed my dad's death, which was fourth grade. I can remember every teachers name before and after the event; I even remember names of teachers' aides, but I cannot tell you the name of my fourth grade teacher, or give any details of that year. The entire year is simply erased from my memory; until Stan entered our lives.

I liked Stan when I first met him. I looked to him as a replacement for my father. I longed for that paternal, fatherly relationship. He gave me a Minnie Mouse watch for my birthday that year, the first watch I'd ever owned. I loved that watch! It had a pink leather band, and Minnie's white gloved hands went around the face of the watch to show the time. It was really cool, and I felt very special. That was the first and only gift I ever received from Stan.

Mom and Stan married in November, 1974, and we moved into Stan's three bedroom house in Mableton, Georgia. My sister and I still had to share a bedroom, but at least we didn't have to share with our brother anymore. Stan's true colors began to show very quickly.

Stan was a high functioning alcoholic. He never missed a day of work because of a hang-over. He believed the lie that his job and his drinking were the only two things he was good at. Even though he was dependable at work, he did spend his entire leisure time sitting at the kitchen table, drinking Budweiser, smoking cigarettes, playing solitaire, falling asleep in his seat at the table; and he hurt people.

Stan was verbally abusive and very controlling. He was also extremely old school when it came to a woman's place; a wife was to keep the house clean and food on the table. She was not entitled to have an opinion, and forbidden to question anything he said or did. He did not value children either. Growing up, I never heard an encouraging word out of his mouth. Everything was mean and derogatory towards women and children. Stan was always right, and he loved to argue with anyone. Even when he knew he was wrong, he would justify his argument through intimidation rather than admit his error.

I despised the way Stan treated us, but Mom's advice for me was to keep my mouth shut. Marrying a woman with three young children was an honorable thing to do, and in her eyes Stan had taken on a huge task when he married her and took us in after dad died. At the time, I didn't know or understand this huge commitment on his part, and I was so extremely shy and quiet that I couldn't express any negative feelings or complain about mistreatments of any kind even if I wanted to. Mom had been raised to know her place, so she must have felt it was in our best interests to be subservient to Stan and keep our mouths shut no matter what happened.

In 1976, the Bicentennial year, my half brother was born. We called him Little Stan. He was so much fun! My sister didn't like him much because it shifted the family order so she was no longer the baby, but I loved him! He brought a lot of joy into my miserable existence.

My shy and quiet persona was most evident at school. I rarely spoke because I didn't believe my opinion mattered in the least. I was also very fearful of everyone and avoided confrontation at all costs. Once in the seventh grade, I had put my head down on my desk as I waited for the bell to ring in order to go to my next class. Sitting right in front of me were three popular girls. One girl began peeling glue off of her fingers and put it in my hair. I knew what they were doing, but I pretended not to notice. I was shy, not stupid. I was humiliated by those girls as they laughed at me; but I could not muster the courage to lift my head off the desk and tell them to stop. Avoiding confrontation became a way of life for me. It was a way of survival.

We moved to Seminole, Florida in 1977. It was a very scary time for me because of my extreme shyness. Moving to a new city was a hard transition. I wanted so much to have friends and be popular that I would lie and tell people what I thought they wanted to hear. I even went so far as to change my name. I hated the name Julia, because no one else on the planet had that name. I changed my name from Julia to Julie. The irony of it all was that I pushed people further away because I tried to be someone I was not.

After we moved Stan's drinking went from bad to worse, and the abuse went from verbal, to physical. Also, something in Stan's eyes changed; they went from gentle to shifty. I found an online study which confirmed Stan's "shifty eyes"...that long term drinkers have a Thiamine (vitamin B1) deficiency which causes serious, major changes in the eyes. However, I always believed the alcohol had caused him to have evil in his heart, which was revealed in his eyes. It's hard to overcome evil when you don't have God in your life. In my eyes, Stan was a monster; a destroyer of lives. Evil had a hold of Stan, a mere puppet, using booze as the strings to control and manipulate Stan for his evil plan.

After moving, I got my own bedroom for the very first time and I was thrilled. It felt good to have my own space, my own place in the world. But having my own room came with a high price; the price of my innocence. I'll never forget the first time Stan came into my room in the middle of the night. I woke up, terrified, to find him kneeling at my bedside, touching me. I curled up in a ball, moved as far away into the corner of the bed as I could get and laid there, afraid to move, afraid to speak; but he always calmed me down and told me he loved me. He stroked my hair, and told me that I was his favorite daughter. He finally left, and I eventually went back to sleep. This behavior was routine in my home for several years.

Stan didn't see anything wrong with what he was doing; after all, he saved us from poverty. He rationalized his behavior and believed the evil lies that drove him. He wasn't hurting us, destroying our lives...our future...in any way. He loved me; he told me so in the middle of the night as he crouched by my bed.

I tried to tell my mother how uncomfortable Stan made me feel when he came into my room at night, but she refused to listen. She always told me I misunderstood, or that I was wrong, maybe I even dreamt it. So, I pushed it down, deep into the pit of my subconscious, and rarely thought about it. Denial was my only defense at the time, because not only was I being sexually abused by my father figure, but my own mother would not believe me, or protect me. I read somewhere that horse trainers put leather blinders on their horses' heads, over their eyes, in order to cover up their peripheral vision. They can only see what is directly in front of them. The horses remain calmer when they cannot see to the right or to the left. My mother lived almost all of her life with blinders on, and she chose to see only what was directly in front of her.

I began drinking when I was twelve. It was the only thing that made sense to me and helped ease the pain I felt. I could escape my reality by self-medicating. I also began acting out by getting into trouble. I would do things I wasn't supposed to do, go places without my mom's permission, skip school, and sneak out of the house. Mom was shocked at my behavior; she couldn't believe I would act out in those ways. She had no problem telling the family what a troublemaker I was. I guess it was easier for her to talk about her irrational, irresponsible teenager than it was to discuss her pedophile husband. She would ask me why I acted the way I did, but she never really wanted to know the truth. She was always expressing her disappointment in my behavior and because she refused to believe the truth about why I was misbehaving, I started lying, telling her anything that would shock her. I wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt me. I needed her to protect and nurture me; I wanted her to believe me. Dan Allender, in relating the feeling of a woman with abuse and mother neglect issues similar to mine, puts it so clearly in his book The Wounded Heart: "If I had been priceless china, my mother would never have allowed me to be used and discarded. Therefore, I must be no better than an old, used paper plate". That is exactly how I felt.

All alone in the world

My husband, kids and I have a Christmas tradition where we pull out every Christmas movie we own and go down the play list to watch our favorites. Making the top of the list is A Christmas Story, It's a Wonderful Life, and Elf; but there's a sweet little 30 minute cartoon called Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol that we make sure we watch every single year without fail. In the cartoon, Mr. Magoo plays Ebeneezer Scrooge in a musical on Broadway. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend you Google it, purchase it off of Amazon and watch it with your children this Christmas. It's so much fun and quite entertaining! Ebeneezer has been visited by the ghost of Christmas Past. He goes back to his childhood where he has no friends, and he's all alone. He sings a song that reminds me of how I felt back then. Young Ebeneezer sings, "A hand for each hand was planned for the world, why don't my fingers reach? Millions of grains of sand in the world, why such a lonely beach? You don't know how it feels when you talk and nobody's voice talks back......I'm all alone in the world." This song takes me back to my teenage years when I was all alone in the world, and I had no one to turn to, not even my own mother.

But there was one girl named Callie and who entered my life, and we became best friends. We did everything together, including getting into trouble. Callie had more freedom than I did; she was allowed to ride her bike on main roads where I was not, frequent malls that were a little further away, or go to parties. When there was something going on that I wasn't allowed to do, I'd do it anyway and deal with the consequences later. I always chose to disobey my mother, which caused a lot of friction in our home. Mom, of course, held Callie responsible for my behavior, placing blame, as she usually did, anywhere other than where the blame truly belonged.

Callie and I skipped school one rainy day, stole some Teen Beat magazines and candy from 7-11 and spent the whole day in the woods, in the rain, reading magazines and talking. We went to her house just before school was to let out, dried our hair and clothes, and then I went home. The school called our house, of course, and I was busted. Stan wanted to know where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing. When I told them the truth, they did not believe me. Stan called me a liar, and accused me of slutting around with boys. He said I was nothing but a whore. I still considered myself a virgin then, even though technically I wasn't. I became defiant, and tried to stand up for myself, which was a no-no in our house, so Stan dragged me into my room by my hair and slammed the door in my face, which was his common choice of discipline. I stayed grounded a lot back then.

Callie and I often shoplifted. It is ridiculous the amount of merchandise we stole without getting caught. I'm not bragging, just stating the facts. I'm positive people saw us, as we were quite brazen when we put things into our bags. As I look back on that time in my life, I know I did it to get attention, even if it was negative attention. Our shoplifting days came to an end when we took a bus out to Pinellas Square Mall, and walked into the big Maas Brothers department store. Before that day, our capers consisted of stealing teen magazines, candy and cream cheese with chives (not sure what that was about) from the local grocery store. I wasn't supposed to be at Pinellas Square Mall that day, but I made the choice to disobey my mother anyway. This time we got caught. We were arrested, taken to the Pinellas County Jail, and our parents were called. It took forever for my parents to come and pick me up. My mom was livid, and the look on her face is one I'll never forget as long as I live. It was a look of shame and disappointment; a look that became more and more familiar as I continued to misbehave. After that, my parents were done with Callie. I was not allowed to hang out with my one and only friend. I had no one left in the world. I was literally all alone.

Cupcake of life

I drank more and more to forget the pain that my step-dad was inflicting on me and the fact that my mom chose not to see it. I stole their booze and replaced it with water. I am sure they knew I was drinking, especially my step-dad. I believe he wanted me drunk so I would be easier access for him when he came into my room.

After the shoplifting incident, I was court ordered to do community service. I was also forbidden to see Callie. She was my best friend, my only friend, the only person I could talk to and count on. She was the only person who had accepted me for who I was no matter what. I lost her, and I was defeated. I lost all hope and gave in to the darkness of despair. I looked through my parents' medicine cabinet and came across a bottle of valium. I swallowed half the bottle and went to sleep. I'm not sure if I wanted to kill myself or if I just wanted the pain of my life to go away. I just knew that things needed to change.

I woke up in the hospital a few hours later and heard the nurses tell my mom that I had low blood sugar. I'm not really sure why they didn't suspect drugs. The next time I woke up I was sitting at the dining room table eating a cupcake. It was a spice cupcake with cream cheese frosting. It was THE best cupcake I've ever eaten in my entire life. It tasted incredible. I still remember how wonderfully sweet and delicious it was. The cake was so moist it melted in my mouth and the frosting was creamy and delectable. As I reflect back, I'm sure it was life I tasted, MY LIFE, which made the cupcake taste so fantastically scrumptious! I suppose God was looking after me even then.

While I was still high from the drugs, my stepdad accused me of faking being ill (they still didn't know that I had taken the valium.) He screamed at me that I owed him for the cost of the emergency room visit. He started yelling at me, calling me a whore and a slut (his pet names for me) until I found my voice and began screaming back at him. I shouted at the top of my lungs that I had taken the pills. I told them I wanted to kill myself because I couldn't deal with my life anymore. "I hate you!" I shrieked, at which time my mother responded by grabbing my hair, demanding that I take back what I had said. She yelled at me to tell Stan that I loved him, but I refused to say it. She almost pulled the hair out of my head, but I would not tell him I loved him. It was a crazy scene.

Sometime during the surreal yelling match, someone called the police, and upon their arrival, they helped calm me down. I remember one of the officers asking me why I had taken the pills. He thought perhaps something was troubling me. There was, and I came very close to telling the officer my secret that night, but I couldn't muster the courage. He gave me his card and told me to call him for any reason. He would be there to listen. But even the desperation of me trying to kill myself didn't stop Stan from coming into my room.

Mom did not know how to handle me. I had gotten caught sneaking back into the house one night when I was thirteen. I was out with this jerk who got mad after I refused to have sex with him, punched me in the face and gave me a fat lip. He refused to drive me home, so I had to call my friend to come pick me up. It was an extremely traumatic experience, and I desperately needed Mom's love and support, but she refused to listen to me; she was so upset with me for sneaking out of the house and because her blinders were on nice and snug, she didn't even notice my fat lip. Mom threatened to send me to live with my grandparents (my real dad's parents) in Tennessee. I wanted to hurt her, for once again not protecting me, so I begged her to send me away. I never thought she would do it, but I was on the next plane to Knoxville.

When I moved to Big Gully, Tennessee I was full of rage. I was angry at the world because no one would listen to me. After a few weeks, my uncle offered to hire me and my aunt (who was a year younger than me) to do some cleaning at his house. While we were there, he introduced us to marijuana, and I got stoned for the first time in my life. During that visit, my uncle tried to kiss me; actually he tried to stick his tongue down my throat! Once again, I lost my mind and began screaming at him, ranting and raving at the injustice that was my life. I could not seem to get away from men-the very men I should have been able to trust-who only wanted one thing from me. He diverted the attention away from himself, and onto Stan, by telling my grandparents I was probably abused. Once again, no one believed me. No one asked me any questions about that incident with my uncle, nor did anyone ask any questions about any abuse I may have received while I lived at home. I found out later that my uncle sexually abused my aunt (his own sister) and my cousin (his sister's daughter).

Let me stop right here for a moment and say these words to anyone reading this who is suffering from sexual abuse, or who knows someone they suspect is being sexually abused. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE THE SIGNS. Please do everything in your power to protect that person from abuse, and make sure that person gets help and protection.

Some warning signs to look for include sudden changes in behavior, anxiety, crying for no reason, insomnia, nightmares, loss of appetite, despair, withdrawal from other family members, trouble at school, unable to concentrate, sudden drop in grades, being absent a lot or skipping school, anger, disorderly behaviors, disobedience of authority figures, alcohol or drug abuse, self mutilation (cutting, burning), attempted suicide, theft, promiscuity, and running away.

Also, listen carefully to the child and what he/she is saying; telling is an extremely difficult thing to do, especially if the child is being threatened by their abuser. Listen for what is not being said by the child. If a child is telling you he doesn't like a babysitter, or doesn't want to be left alone with so and so, ask questions; find out what the problem is and why they are having such a hard time with that particular person. Do not be passive!

According to Crista Sands in Learning to Trust Again, her advice for helping any sexual abuse victim is to "Listen to their story, believe their story, and care about them...don't give the slightest hint of questioning their memory, feelings or integrity. Rejection or denial can be as traumatic as the abuse itself". I can personally testify to that fact.

Many times this is a family issue passed down from generation to generation. Be the strong generation that breaks this bondage! Take steps to protect the innocent. Exodus 20:4-6, 34:7 and Numbers 14:18 are great scriptures you can refer to when praying to break these generational curses. Ask God to break the generational sin in your life and in the lives of those you are trying to protect.

If you are the person being abused, it is so important that you tell someone you trust. If that person rejects you, tell someone else you trust. Continue to tell until someone listens! I know how hard it is to do this. I chose not to tell and not only did my abuser ended up hurting others, but it took me decades to get over the pain. The road to healing begins with this path. You must bring this darkness into the light. YOU MUST TELL SOMEONE if you want to be free of this bondage, begin your journey to heal and be restored, and to protect others. In all of the research I've done, we (victims of sexual abuse) were taught to not tell. We were either bribed or threatened to keep quiet. "Keep your mouth shut" is what I was always told. Do not listen to those people or the lies they speak. Do not continue to protect those who hurt you.

Also, you can trust that God knows your pain, and he will help you through any issues and give you strength. One of God's many promises can be found in Isaiah 41:10 which states _"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."_

I could spend so much time here, because of my background and how passionate I am about childhood sexual abuse, but God has directed me to write a book on forgiveness. As much as I'd like to park right here, I must move on. The most important point to remember is that if you are being abused; tell someone you trust so that you can get help. If you know someone who is being sexually abused, listen to that person, believe their story, and get help! Ignoring it can lead to that person staying in bondage, continuing to allow the generational sin to grow. Please do not allow that to happen.

I found the Lord during the short six months I lived in Tennessee. After a big fight with some girls on the bus ride home from school one Friday, I got into trouble for the nasty language I used. My aunt asked me if I knew Jesus. I told her I did not. That night, we prayed, and I asked Jesus into my heart for the first time. I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders and most of my anger melted away. It was amazing, and I spent the next 5 months in Tennessee in God's peace, something I had never known or experienced before. Peace that surpassed all understanding. I didn't tell my mom about my decision to accept Christ. I didn't trust her. I didn't think she'd understand. Besides, I still wanted to punish her for not protecting me. I wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt me. I moved back to Florida that summer, the abuse resumed and I forgot all about Jesus.

I would spend the next 25 years living in the shackles of my own unforgiving heart. Un-forgiveness is one of the primary tools the evil one uses to keep us in bondage. We hold on to so much baggage that prevents us from moving forward into the abundant life God promises and provides for us. When we refuse to forgive, we only hurt ourselves. But, for some reason, we cannot, or will not, let go. We cannot give the person who hurt us any piece of ourselves, even forgiveness, because we reason, they don't deserve to be forgiven. We equate forgiving with letting someone get away with what they have done, and we are not about to allow that to happen, no matter what the cost. What we often don't realize is that the cost is huge–inside of each of us! It doesn't cost our abuser anything, but it costs us a life filled with anger, bitterness, hate, evil thoughts, and negative feelings.

When we finally take the courageous steps we need to make toward forgiveness, God gives us peace. He gives us rest. Mathew 11:28 states _"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."_ After holding onto the self-destructive anger and pain of un-forgiveness, we realize all we had to do was let it go. It's that simple. Or is it?

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Chapter Three: MY FAVORITE DAUGHTER

_"Forgiveness is a funny thing. It warms the heart and cools the sting."  
_ ~William Arthur Ward

_"Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future."  
_ ~Paul Boese

_"One thing you will probably remember well is any time you forgive and forget."  
_ ~Franklin P. Jones

By the ripe old age of fifteen, I was drinking regularly, smoking marijuana and cigarettes and dating a 23 year old man. I do not know why my mother allowed me to date a 23 year old man, but my guess is she let me date Dennis because he would be able to "handle" me. We dated for two years, and then, in the summer of 1982, rather than participate in my high school commencement, I walked down a different aisle. I was seventeen and married. My mother had to sign for the marriage license because I was under age, but she consented willingly, probably because she was tired of dealing with my outbursts and attitude towards her that worsened with every drop of alcohol I ingested.

I thought I was in love. In hindsight, I know I got married to get out of that house, but at the time, I had stars in my eyes and thought he would take care of me and make me happy. It did not take long for the real Dennis to emerge. He was controlling, manipulative, and abusive; both verbally and physically. He knew how to push buttons, and he was good at it. He did, however, teach me some important lessons: He taught me that life was not fair, under any circumstances. He taught me that no one was going to take care of me, except for me. And he taught me not to be a doormat for anyone, except him, of course.

We had an extremely rocky marriage. During the seven years we were together, I left him five times, hoping to find the courage within myself to make it on my own. I had no confidence in myself or my abilities, so I always went back. It is very common for women to stay in abusive relationships due to lack of self esteem; it's simply another survival strategy.

After our first breakup, we moved from Anna Maria Island, Florida to Michigan in the fall of '83, hoping for a fresh start, but things only got worse. Because he was originally from Michigan, it seemed like a good place to start over, and I went along with it because I wanted to be a good wife, or what I thought a good wife should be. My parents' relationship was the only model I had to base my view of marriage on, and it was a dysfunctional one, at best.

We did not have much when we moved to Michigan. We packed up what little we did have in a rented a car, because we didn't have our own vehicle, and headed north. He assured me he had a mobile home on the property of a friend lined up for us to move into. I was completely exhausted after the 24-hour straight-through drive, so when we arrived at his friend's house, I was looking forward to sleeping in a real bed. I was hit by a huge dose of reality square in the face, like a wrecking ball crashing into a brick wall. The mobile home we were to live in was a small camping trailer; a tiny 4x4 bedroom on wheels. We had full access to the house, but it did not make up for the fact that the trailer had no running water, no heat, and no bathroom. I was devastated. I sat down on the bed, put my head in my hands, and whispered to myself, "I am so screwed!" I knew I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I was 1800 miles away from anything familiar...no family, no friends, no car, no job...living in a tiny, dark, dank, musty closet. Welcome to your new life, Julia. Unfortunately, moving to Michigan would not be the only mistake I would make.

We lived there for a year, and then moved to downtown Mexican Town on Bagley Street with his dad in an upper flat. After living there for a few years, we finally settled into a rented home in the slums of lower east Detroit, right next to Grosse Pointe Park. Grosse Pointe Park was a wealthy upscale suburb of Detroit where many rich and prominent people lived, including The Ford Family. I used to walk the neighborhood and dream that I lived in one of the swanky mansions with all that wealth had to offer. It was close enough to see and to dream, but far, far out of my reach. We lived there for the remainder of our marriage.

After surviving five rocky years of marriage, I became pregnant. I had settled into my new reality, and was happy about starting a family. I hoped for two girls, sisters who would play silly games together, just as Stella and I had. We had the strangest imaginations. There was a silly little game we used to play called Mr. Teddy Bear. We both worked for our boss, Mr. Teddy Bear, who was an important and powerful entrepreneur. We placed him in the middle of my bed, which was his office. Stella was a tired, frumpy old secretary named Mrs. Horsefeathers. In stark contrast, I was a beautiful, successful, prominent businesswoman named Krystal Keylock. We would sit for hours at our make shift desks, sign our name to papers, pretend to stamp them, and then shuffle the signed papers back and forth from each other's desk. Every once in awhile we would get called into Mr. Teddy Bear's office with a load of extra work to do, complete with stressful deadlines.

As I recalled our strange but silly games, a thought flooded my mind and turned my blood cold. I had forgotten about Stella. She moved into my room when I left. Oh, dear God, I never thought to warn her! I never told her to lock her bedroom door at night!

Stella's Story-penned in her own words

"I share my story by God's hand."

"I was eleven years old when my sister got married and moved out of the house. I moved into her room and was so happy to have my own space. I didn't know that I had bigger problems ahead; I not only inherited my sister's room, but I took over her problems as well!

The very first time Stan came into my room, I was sound asleep. He opened the door, came over to my bed, sat down on the edge of my bed and stroked my face with his hand. I was completely startled, but his kind words comforted me. He told me that I was his favorite of all the children. I was his favorite!

I could always smell the liquor on Stan's breath. He visited my room a few times a month. One particular night, he came in as he usually did, and he was drunk like always, and he stroked my arm and my face like a dog. Smiling with an evil grin, he again told me I had always been his favorite, and then he kissed me with his tongue. After he left my room, I became very upset. I didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning, Mom left for work before I woke to go to school, and I was not able to talk to her. I needed to talk to her so bad! I was scared and confused. I told one of my friends at school, and she suggested that I speak to an adult about it. When I finally got home from school, and I had a chance to talk to mom and told her what happened. Mom told me I must have misunderstood. She said I was wrong, that Stan would not have done that. I did not know of any parents kissing their kids with their tongue, but, according to mom, it was just a misunderstanding.

After that, I locked my door at night (if I remembered). He never came in when the door was locked. I lived in fear in my own house, but as long as I locked the door, I was safe. I would get mad at myself when I would forget, and he always ended up in my room, telling me I was his favorite, petting me and kissing me goodnight with his tongue. I didn't like it, but as long as my mom knew about it, then it must be okay.

I began drinking and smoking cigarettes and experimenting with marijuana. I liked escaping the real world, and I liked the strength and courage that alcohol and drugs gave me. When I was drunk, I was invincible! Stan allowed me to drink at home, because when I drank, sometimes I would forget to lock my door at night. Anytime we went out to dinner, he would buy me a Pina Colada from the bar. I always ordered a virgin drink, but it was always spiked with rum!

One night my parent's went out to the club to eat, drink and dance as they did on occasion. I had invited some friends to party at my house, and we all got wasted playing quarters. My parents came home drunk and I convinced them to let my friends stay the night because they were too drunk to drive. So Lucy slept with me in my room, and Chad slept on the couch. During the night, my step dad accused Chad of going through his things, so he kicked Chad out of the house and made him drive home drunk. We all went back to bed, but because I was so drunk, I forgot to lock my door! I woke up in the living room with my panties down to my ankles and Stan was on top of me, kissing me and calling my name. As soon as I realized what was happening, I pushed him off of me and ran to my room. I woke my friend and told her we were leaving. I left a note on my pillow to my mom that simply stated, "Ask Stan why I left!" I went to Lucy's house and stayed there for 2 weeks. Her parents were out of town, and so I proceeded to party my brains out. I was so distraught that I could not function. I spoke to mom the very next day, and she told me that Stan did not know why I had left. What? Could he not remember what he did?!

I told mom what happened, and she believed that I willingly had sex with him. She insisted that it was my fault. I couldn't talk about the details of what happened, and mom didn't ask. She did want to know if Stan ejaculated inside of me, and I told her that I did not know. She never asked me how I was doing; she never consoled me in any way. The only thing she was concerned about was if I was pregnant with Stan's baby! She blamed me. She told me it was something I just had to live with. I was so confused. There was so much doubt. Maybe it was my fault. If I hadn't been drunk, I could have said no.

After my two-week drunk at Lucy's house, I had to go back home. When I walked into my bedroom, I noticed a cigarette burn in the carpet next to my bed. Details suddenly became clear and all my doubt faded away. Stan dropped his cigarette when he came into my room, carried me out to the living room floor, where he proceeded to rape me. I was unconscious, but when I woke up and realized what was happening, I immediately put a stop to it.

I was raped and my mother didn't do a thing about it! NOTHING! She did offer to let me go live with an aunt out of town, but I couldn't bear the thought of living without my mother, so I stayed at home.

That was the last time Stan ever came into my room."

Our mother told Stella she had to live with it because she herself had been abused as a child, and that is what her mother had told her. A generational sin was repeating itself. The question begs to be asked: How many generations of women and men must be hurt before someone has the courage to stand up and say ENOUGH! By God's grace, I can be that generation. I need to refuse to allow the sins of the fathers to continue to the next generation. I need to protect my children at all costs to make sure they are safe. I should not hide from, or behind, the sinful behaviors that create an un-empowered, un-nurtured, unprotected, subservient, low-self-esteemed generation. Our mother refused to acknowledge...refused to intervene...refused to nurture...refused to protect my sister and me. That type of passive rejection is hard to get over!

In the twisted logic that generational sin reinforces, my sister was expected to forget it happened, erase it from her mind, and move on with her life. That was supposed to be the end of it...until I found out.

I was already considered a troublemaker by my family because I did not like the way Stan treated women and I would voice my opinion about the unfairness of it all. Women were treated like chattel-good for cooking and cleaning-and to be available to their man. The men in my family were allowed to take whatever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, and the women simply lived with it. I thought all families were like this and it would be a long time before I realized my warped sense of reality was simply not the way things actually were in society. Early in our marriage my husband informed me that he enjoyed having sex with strange women, and that, as a result, he would always have affairs. It was something I was expected to tolerate and live with. I didn't see anything wrong with that statement because I did not have a good male role model in my upbringing, and he WAS the man. How crazy is that?!

My sister and I were mere women; we were chattel. We never got any help from our parents financially or otherwise, simply because we were female. We were always on our own; always had to make our own way. But our brothers, because they were males were able to get my parents to co-sign for cars for them, lived at home as long as they wanted, were catered to, cooked for, and cleaned up after their entire lives. My sister and I did not get any special treatment, whatsoever. We often joked that if we had a penis we would be treated better. Inappropriate jokes and laughter between Stella and I had become our only sanity.

I still remember the day Stella found the courage to tell me her story. As we talked, we both came to the horrible realization that as many times as Stan was in my room in the middle of the night, he was in her room, too. It was the same story. She would wake with a fright to have someone looming over her, touching her, watching her while she slept, just as it had happened to me. Stan would tell her the same thing he told me; that she was his favorite daughter. I was mortified! While I thought I had gotten safely out of that house, saved myself from that horrible situation and from the awful and powerful person that Stan had become, I never EVER thought he would do the same thing to her. I felt guilt and shame for not protecting her. I was furious with Stan, and with our mother, and now, with myself. I wanted Stan to die!

In Psalm 55:12-14 David laments: _"If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were raising himself against me, I could hide from him. But it is you...."_ David was agonizing about his good friend, Saul, who was trying to kill him. It broke his heart that his friend had betrayed him; a person he trusted, confided in, a person he loved and cared for deeply. The most devastating part of the abuse was that our abuser was Stan; the man we trusted to take care of us, the man we thought would nurture us, the man we counted on to love us unconditionally like a father. The man who was married to our mother. We were betrayed by the two people we should have been able to trust the most!

Stella and I discussed what she should do. Should she press charges? What was the statute of limitations? Was it worth it to put herself through that ordeal? After a lengthy discussion, we came to the conclusion that it would be her word against Stan's. Mom would undoubtedly take his side, not hers because she blamed my sister, not him. This was a battle that neither one of us was strong enough to fight. Did Stella really want to put her life on display? What would happen to her and my younger brother? Stan would be charged with rape, but our mother would also get into trouble for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. It would destroy the family even more, and Stella wasn't sure she was strong enough to deal with her mother's inevitable rejection. After many long conversations, we both came to the conclusion that the offenses would be best left alone.

Stella and I formed an alliance; we hated Stan. We could not stand to even be in the same room with him. We stood by each other, talked through issues, and did our best to get through those tough times. She still had to live there, and I was 1800 miles away. Our shared hatred was a powerful bond of friendship, fueling each other's fire by stoking it with hurtful comments.

We laughed and joked inappropriately about each of us being his favorite. I know that sounds sick, but it was the only way we could cope with the pain without losing our minds. We talked about how we wished Stan would die, and fantasized about what his death would look like. We convinced ourselves that if he were dead we would be free of him and the bondage that held us. His death was the only acceptable payment for the pain we had suffered.

We wanted Stan to die in an extremely painful, horrible way. Because he was in the early stages of emphysema, he would have frequent coughing fits. They could be severe enough that he would turn red and then almost purple. Stella and I would pray that he wouldn't be able to catch his breath, that he would suffocate and drop dead. But, to our disappointment, he always survived. We never understood why God did not answer our prayers or why He would allow someone as evil as Stan to stay on this earth. What we didn't realize then was that it was our own unforgiving hearts that held us prisoner. We had a long journey ahead of us before we even came close to realizing that Stella and I, not Stan, held the key to the shackles that bound us in our pain, anger, bitterness, and strife.

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Chapter Four: UNDESERVED GRACE

_"Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime;  
therefore, we are saved by hope.  
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;  
therefore, we are saved by faith.  
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone;  
therefore, we are saved by love.  
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own;  
therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness."  
_~Reinhold Niebuhr

Dennis and I were married for seven rocky years. I put my faith in him to take care of me, only to be disappointed. Good times were a rarity; the bad far outweighed the good. I knew our marriage was in trouble, and I was extremely unhappy, but Dennis didn't care how I felt. He was the man, and I was expected to live with the way things were. Despite my unhappiness, I was elated about my pregnancy. I was hopeful that having a child would be the exact fix our marriage needed.

Johnny was born on our fifth wedding anniversary, and our marriage was in worse shape than ever before. Becoming a mother had stirred a confidence and strength that I had never known before. I knew things needed to change, but I had no clue how to go about it. I wanted a real family, not the dysfunctional family in which I was raised. The life we had been living was no longer acceptable to me.

The more I tried to change, the more Dennis pushed back. He liked me subservient and weak. I was controllable, conforming to whatever he wanted. After seven tumultuous years, our marriage came to an end. I walked out the door for the fifth and final time and never looked back. Johnny was two years old.

As a single mom with a failed marriage and no child support coming in, I began bartending at a local pub. Mike was a regular customer who I liked a lot. We were friends for a few years before I noticed his charm and wit. He was different from any other guy I had dated. Mike was gentle and kind. He was not at all interested in controlling me, which confused me. All the men in my life up until this point told me what to do, how to act and how to feel. I mistakenly put Mike up on a pedestal with unrealistic expectations. I now put my faith in him to take care of me, making the same mistake I had made in my first marriage. We dated for almost two years before we married on New Year's Eve in 1994. We began our family immediately, having two children within two years.

My drinking, however, had gotten out of control. Deep down I knew I was an alcoholic, but I didn't want to accept it. I didn't have to deal with my painful past, I was invincible and my problems disappeared when I was under the influence. Most people have a shut off valve in their brain to tell them when to stop drinking; but not me. I didn't know when to stop. My drinking had consumed me so much so that, many times, I would experience black outs.

My last night of drinking came in 1998 after Mike and I had moved our family into a new home in Troy, Michigan. It was the week between Christmas and New Years, and I was celebrating. Mike was out with the boys watching football, so I had called some friends over for the day. We spent the entire day drinking, and when Mike got home, my friends and I left to go bar hopping. At some point, I became exceedingly drunk, blacked out, and lost a couple of hours of my life. I woke up in a hotel room in a compromising situation with my friends. It was about four o'clock in the morning when I realized I had just made a major mistake. My friends drove me home where I blacked out again on the couch. When I woke up the second time, Mike was standing next to me, holding my two-year-old daughter and four-year-old son in his arms, screaming at me. He wanted to know how I could throw away what we had built. The kids were crying. They didn't understand what was going on. It was a horrible scene. I did my best to explain what happened, but the only thing I could say was that I was sorry. The realization of what I had done hit me, like a ton of bricks, with the vision of my husband holding my two crying children, knowing that when daylight came, he was going to leave me, and take my kids with him. It was the worst night of my life. I had hit my rock bottom. Mike eventually went back to bed with the kids and I slept fitfully on the couch. I was sober enough by then to know that if I wanted to keep my family, I had no choice but to quit drinking.

The next day I admitted to Mike I was an alcoholic. I apologized. I told him that I did not want to lose him or the kids and that he was my soul mate. He quickly reminded me that "soul mates do not treat each other the way I treated him." He was right.

I found I could not stop drinking on my own, so I began attending meetings at Alcoholics Anonymous and Celebrate Recovery. I didn't really understand what it meant to be in recovery, I just knew I couldn't drink. Ever. Again. These two programs were the mirror I needed to help me see the self destructive habits I had developed over the years. I didn't like what I saw. I now had to learn to live my life and deal with my past without turning to alcohol.

I'd like to pause a moment and talk about addiction. Addiction destroys relationships, destroys trust, and destroys lives. Not just the addict's life, but the lives of everyone close to them. Most addicts wait until they hit rock bottom before they admit they are powerless to their addiction and need help. That's when you look into the mirror, and smash it into a million pieces because you do not like what you see. Who you have become is not who you are. Whether it's alcohol, drugs, porn, sex, food, shopping, power, work, or whatever, if you believe you are an addict, I urge you to get help immediately. Call SAMHSA, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Service Administration Hotline at 1-800-662-HELP (4357). People are standing by to talk 24/7/365. Not sure if you are an addict? Dr. Gary Stollman, Ph.D. is a psychotherapist helping individuals overcome self-defeating patterns of behavior. He gives10 key signs of having an addiction that I found on drphil.com:

1) Recurrent failure (pattern) to resist impulses.  
2) Frequently engaging in those behaviors to a greater extent or over a longer period of time than intended.  
3) Persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to stop, reduce or control those behaviors.  
4) Inordinate amount of time spent in obtaining the object of addiction and/or engaging in or recovering from the behavior.  
5) Preoccupation with the behavior or preparatory activities.  
6) Frequently engaging in behavior when expected to fulfill occupational, academic, domestic or social obligations.  
7) Continuation of the behavior despite knowledge of having a persistent or recurrent social, academic, financial, psychological or physical problem that is caused or exacerbated by the behavior.  
8) Need to increase the intensity, frequency, number or risk of behaviors to achieve the desired effect, or diminished effect with continued behaviors at the same level of intensity, frequency, number or risk.  
9) Giving up or limiting social, occupational or recreational activities because of the behavior.  
10) Resorting to distress, anxiety, restlessness or violence if unable to engage in the behavior at times.

Alcoholics Anonymous and Celebrate Recovery are not just programs for learning how to live life free from addiction but for learning how to live a new kind of life. Not a life focused on one thing but a life lived in a whole new way. A life open to looking at creation through the lens of a free spirit, not a slave bound to the narrow view through a brown bottle or a click of the mouse. A new abundant life from a position of health and strength, with sunny walks through the park and battles fought against real enemies. Life lived not alone but in a community surrounded by family and friends who believe that real truth matters and happiness is worth fighting for. A life that has purpose and meaning where helping others and accepting help is part of every day, not just meeting day. A life with tears and happiness, with order and messiness. A life full of failure but even more success. Recovery starts with nothing more than opening your eyes.

JESUS CALLED AND I ANSWERED

Soon after I quit drinking, my oldest son, Johnny, now 13, was going through a very dark time battling depression. I did not know much about depression at the time, but I was worried that my father's psychosis was hereditary. Johnny was very angry, underachieving in school, and getting into a lot of trouble. I just didn't know what to do or where to turn.

I always believed there was a God, but He was never real to me. I was saved when I was a teen in Tennessee, but I very quickly lost my passion. I was unaware that God was a loving God. I only knew the hellfire and damnation that the Baptist church in Tennessee taught. But throughout the years, I did pray on occasion.

My impersonal belief began to change the day Johnny came home from school and we got into a horrible fight. Yelling and screaming at each other had become a common occurrence in our home, but this fight began escalating toward violence. Johnny began throwing things around his room and hitting himself. I was not sure how to react, so I grabbed him, and hugged him.

Johnny pushed away from me, but I held on tight. He ended up sobbing in my arms, begging me to "make it stop...make the pain go away." That was all he would say, over and over, crying and sobbing, begging me to make the pain stop. I was so afraid! I held him for what seemed like hours until he finally calmed down. I had no idea what to do or where to turn. I was unsure of how to help my own child. I was his mother. I had always been able to make the booboo better. I would put a band-aid on it, kiss it, and make the pain go away. But not this time. How do you put a band-aid on that kind of pain? I felt useless and hopeless. I went to bed that night and cried out to God. "If you are real", I cried, "I need help. I do not know what to do. I cannot help my son, and he is hurting. Please help me." Then, I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, Johnny got up early. He said he wanted to go to school to talk to a teacher, Mr. Snell. I was worried but very happy that he was willing to talk to someone. I offered to drive him to school but he insisted on walking. When he left I called the school to leave a message for Mr. Snell. I was not sure why Johnny had chosen him to talk to, but I wanted to make sure he would be there when Johnny arrived. While I was unsure of many things, one certainty was clear: Johnny could not handle another rejection.

When I called the school, I asked for Mr. Snell. He hardly ever came in early and never took calls when he did. But this particular morning, he was there AND he took the call. I introduced myself, and let him know Johnny was on his way to talk to him. I had no idea what he should expect, but I begged him to make the time to talk to Johnny. Mr. Snell calmly stated he knew why Johnny was coming to see him, and he asked me to keep an open mind.

My thoughts began to race, and I immediately jumped to the conclusion he was going to tell me something awful about my son. I braced myself for the worst, but instead, Mr. Snell told me that Johnny was coming to talk to him about God. As soon as the word "God" came out of his mouth, I burst into tears. I told him what had happened between Johnny and me the night before, that I had cried myself to sleep praying for God to send help, and He did! Mr. Snell prayed with me over the phone and invited Johnny and me to come to church the following Sunday, which we did.

God heard my cries that night and sent help through a teacher. Because Mr. Snell allowed God to use him and was willing to teach us about Jesus' grace, I gave my life to Christ that Sunday. Johnny gave his life to Christ too, but his battle with depression and darkness continued and like me at his age, he quickly lost his passion and turned away.

No one deserves grace. Mike had every reason to leave me and take our children. Instead, he stayed, and we began rebuilding what my drinking had destroyed. We recently celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. I also celebrated sixteen years of sobriety. I celebrate the two anniversaries together because if I had not quit drinking, I would be reminded of our divorce rather than celebrating our strong marriage.

Grace is God's infinite love, mercy, favor, and goodwill shown to humankind. Grace is freedom from sin, through repentance. God freely gives the gift of grace; unwarranted and undeserved. That gift called grace, that complete forgiveness is what God extends to all of us. It was grace Mr. Snell was offering, and it was grace Mike extended to me on my last night of drinking.

I now believe God was pursuing me throughout my life. When He answered my plea for help in an undeniable way, I gave my life to Him. These defining seasons were extremely difficult. I began to trust in God, knowing He loved us and by His grace, we were going to be okay. I was finally beginning to understand what it meant to change. I was learning to put my faith in God, rather than in people. Little did I know my quest to find grace was the beginning of a hard and painful road where I had to chose between a narrow gate and a wide one.

" _For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God."—_ Ephesians 2:8

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Chapter Five: ENTER THROUGH THE NARROW GATE

_"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."  
_ ~Mahatma Gandhi

I've learned in my short journey that living the life of a Christian can be difficult and challenging, but it is also THE most rewarding way to live. In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus tells us to _"Enter though the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life and only a few find it"._ This scripture reminds me of a funnel. As you enter through the "wide" end of the funnel, it is big, and open, there are many people you know and there is plenty of room. As you travel further into the funnel, it starts to get smaller, more crowded, and darker. Before you know it, you are deep into a dark, cramped and crowded space and you can't find your way out. God asks us to enter through the "narrow" end. When you first enter it's small, dark, quiet, and lonely; not too many people are there. But as you walk through in faith and begin to experience God's love, grace, peace, and mercy, the funnel begins to open up; it is open and full of light and beauty!

God never promises us easy lives or that once we put our faith in Him we will live happily ever after. In fact, the reality of walking with God is just the opposite. James reminds us to _"consider it pure joy...whenever we face many kinds of trials."_ (James 1:2 NIV) I can understand why people choose not to live their lives for Jesus; it is hard work. Not only will we face trials, but we will face many trials. Living a Christian life is THE SINGLE MOST REWARDING way to live, and I would not trade my life with God for any reason, but the road is narrow and the gate through those trials is hard to find.

Jesus tells us we must forgive if we want to be forgiven. Matthew 6:14-15 states _"For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."_ We are prone to avoid forgiveness at all costs, even at the expense of our own freedom. When we refuse to forgive, we are choosing to walk into the wide end of the funnel, wander aimlessly in the discomfort and darkness, and never find our way out.

Bonnie and I both served on staff in the children's area of our church. We had an instant friendship and a common bond; a beautiful gravy boat with a cracked handle in my China pattern of life. Bonnie had a great sense of humor, and we laughed about everything. I believe God brought us together and used our laughter as glue to put the pieces of our painful past together. We understood one another and the issues that each of us faced.

Bonnie felt as strongly as I did regarding the subject of abuse. It was an issue we both felt we needed to overcome. We wanted desperately to help others heal. We were confident we could conquer both issues with a study group for women who suffered from the same issues. She had used the study The Wounded Heart by Dr. Dan B. Allender in her personal counseling and wanted to use this book to help other abuse victims. I agreed to co-lead, despite doubts and backlash from others. We both believed this was God's plan for that season of our lives and we wanted to be obedient to His leading.

We launched our group and only two women signed up. We were a little disappointed, but agreed that God knew exactly which women He wanted to participate, and as the study progressed, we worked together to take the steps needed to deal with the various issues that stem from childhood sexual abuse. It was extremely hard work; going back into our past was quite painful, but we both knew the road to healing began with returning to the past to deal with it in a healthy way.

When Christmas time rolled around, we decided to take a break. Our plan was to finish the study after the first of the year, when the busy holiday season was over, but we never met again. The next chapter was about forgiveness, and neither woman was prepared to go down that road yet. They were unable to even consider the idea of forgiving their abusers. I often wonder if they ever came to understand that their refusal to embrace forgiveness only hurt themselves. It was not the abuse that was keeping them in bondage; their emotional pain was the result of their own, unforgiving, hearts.

Bonnie and I disbanded the group, and never looked back. We talked about starting it up again, but our own fears of rejection took over. I do not know if those women were ever able to forgive their offenders, but I still pray for their freedom from the bondage of un-forgiveness.

In John 10:10 Jesus teaches us that Satan comes to " _steal, kill and destroy_." Bonnie and I felt the evil one was right on our heels. He did not want us to forgive our trespassers; instead he wanted us to stay in the darkness of our pain. Satan is like a pick pocket; sneaking in when we are not looking, steals our wallet, and quickly disappears. We would never even know he had been there, except for the fact that our wallet is gone, and we are unhappy. Satan wants to rob us of our joy, and he succeeds when he entices us to embrace past pains and find perverted solace in the bondage of un-forgiveness. He knows if we forgive and heal, then he has lost the battle for our very souls, and God is then able to _"use us for His good purpose"._ (Philippians 2:13NIV)

"Forgiving is love's toughest work, and love's biggest risk. If you twist it into something it was never meant to be, it can make you a doormat or an insufferable manipulator. Forgiving seems almost unnatural. Our sense of fairness tells us people should pay for the wrong they do. But forgiving is love's power to break nature's rule."

~Lewis B. Smedes

Hardened Heart

Lauren and I were best friends. We went through many life changes together, including divorce and remarriage. We were alcoholics and when we drank together, we became poison to each other. Lauren would say mean and hurtful things, and use information that I had confided in her against me. Not only did she say mean and hurtful things when she was under the influence, she was also controlling and manipulative, and she did her best to run my life. Lauren had to bring me down in order to make herself feel good, which is typical alcoholic behavior. I was never allowed to hold her accountable for anything she said while she was drunk. She would either deny it or ignore me, and she never apologized. I was intimidated by her, and afraid of how she would react if I confronted her, so I allowed her to mistreat me.

I eventually quit drinking, and she did not. After twenty years of tolerating the abuse, I made the decision to terminate our friendship. I could no longer participate in a one sided relationship that left me feeling empty. Proverbs 27:19 states that _"a mirror reflects a man's face but what he is really like is shown by the kind of friends he chooses."_

As I grew in my relationship with God, He began to show me through Scripture that I needed to sever any harmful relationships. I loved Lauren very much, and I still do, but I missed the way things used to be between us and how much fun we used to have in our earlier relationship before the alcohol controlled her life. I could no longer allow her _"bad company to corrupt my good character."_ (1 Corinthians 15:33) I know that may sound harsh and judgmental, but I was simply being obedient and wanted to be the woman God wanted me to be, and being controlled by her was destroying me.

I had no hard feelings towards Lauren...I simply could no longer allow myself to be abused by yet another alcoholic. Apparently, she did have hard feelings towards me. I am sure I hurt her. If I loved her, how could I walk away? I read recently in Our Daily Bread that back in the Old West, there were two types of friends; a runner or a stander. The runner, of course, would run at the first sign of trouble while the stander would stay by your side and stick it out. Usually, you did not find out what type of friend you had until trouble came. Even though the Bible clearly states _"A friend loves at all times..."_ (2 Timothy 17:17), I could not stay in an abusive relationship. In her eyes I was a runner.

I do not believe God's intent for loyalty to a friendship means we allow ourselves to be mistreated by a friend. Rather, I believe healthy friendships are sources of comfort and strength during life's trials, and should not be an unequal yoking where one party continually inflicts pain. I worked hard throughout my life to sever harmful, toxic relationships. Even though Lauren's alcoholism and abuse was at the root of my decision to walk away from an unhealthy relationship, she was the one who had hard feelings because, in her eyes, I had abandoned her.

A few years ago, Lauren went into cardiac arrest, collapsed, and was in a coma for six days. Physicians performed emergency open heart surgery on her. As I prayed for her each day, I sensed God's peace and felt in my heart she was going to make it. I was so happy God had given her a miraculous second chance at life. Maybe, I thought, this time she will find the courage to change.

I wrote her a letter, telling her God loved her, and letting her know how much I had been praying for her. I told her I loved her, and that I was willing to do whatever she needed me to do to help her quit drinking. I was willing to come back into her life to help in her recovery. Even though I knew I would be putting myself in a vulnerable position, it did not matter. I felt drawn to help her IF she was willing to help herself. She was not.

When she wrote back, she called me a liar and a hypocrite, quoting scripture about judging others. At the time, I did not understand why she thought I was judging her, but now I realize she took my rejection as judgment. Although I told her I loved her, in her eyes, I was a runner. How could I walk away from a twenty-year friendship, but claim to love her? When put that way, it did seem hypocritical. While I was elated she had referred to the Bible to quote scripture at me, I was equally saddened because she used it to try to hurt me. It confirmed what I had discerned earlier, but it was still hard to accept that her heart was so hardened she would not even consider forgiving me in order to have me back in her life. She is shackled to her own unforgiving and hardened heart, and even a near death experience could not motivate her to change her lifestyle or to forgive.

What happens if you ask forgiveness from someone who refuses to forgive? What happens when you ask someone to consider forgiveness, and instead they reject you as they go berserk? Just as we do not get to decide what a homeless person does with money we give them, we do not get to decide what anyone does with our apology. We give out of obedience, and leave it in God's hands to deal with that offering. We hope and pray that reconciliation can be reached. Some hearts are so hardened, however, that forgiveness is simply not an option, as in Lauren's case. She continues to enter through the wide gate that leads to destruction. What would it take for someone with such a hard heart to find forgiveness? Proverbs 29:14 observes that _"Blessed is the man who always fears the Lord, but he who hardens his heart falls into trouble."_ I know she is unable to let go of her bitter spirit on her own. God would transform her, soften her hardened heart, and help her find complete forgiveness for me or anyone else she harbors ill feelings toward. God is willing to release her from her own personal prison, set her free and show her the narrow gate.

I often wonder what the lives all three ladies could be like if they just let their anger and resentment go. I still pray for them. I still hold out hope for a miracle in their lives, knowing God can do anything. All they have to do is ask. In Matthew 7:7-8 Jesus says: _"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."

_**Step Two:** Ask God to soften your heart.  
When you are ready to move to the next step, ask God to soften your heart towards your abuser. This is a difficult step because your heart is undoubtedly hardened toward your abuser as a way of protecting yourself. Becoming vulnerable again is not easy. Pray these simple words: "God, soften my heart toward my abuser. Help me see him/her the way you do. Give me the strength and willingness I need to give up the anger and bitterness that only hurts me, and help me find the path to peace and freedom I need to be joyful and to honor You. In Jesus' name. Amen."

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Chapter Six: FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED

"How can I be lost  
If I've got nowhere to go?  
Search for seas of gold  
How come it's got so cold?  
How can I be lost?  
In remembrance I relive  
So how can I blame you  
When it's me I can't forgive?"  
~Metallica - The Unforgiven III

In the early 1500's reformist Martin Luther was disgusted with how the Catholic Church handled forgiveness of sins. The priests would sell indulgences to the rich, and to the poor, they would pass out penance. The penance would often include beating one's self with a whip until the sinner felt worthy of forgiveness, or until they were able to come up with money to purchase the indulgence. This practice was one of the main reasons Luther wrote his Ninety-Five Theses and taped it to the chapel door at the university. He wanted people to know that grace comes from God through the shed blood of Jesus and is a gift that is freely given to any and all who believe. No amount of money or thrashing can earn His free gift of mercy. The church no longer practices such barbaric rituals, but we still tend to mentally whip ourselves to relieve the guilt of our sin before we realize self-forgiveness. Sometimes we beat ourselves up for a long time.

Many of us find it difficult to let go of our mistakes. We tend to mentally whip ourselves until we feel worthy of forgiveness. God forgives us immediately. We may have consequences to deal with, but as soon as we admit our sin and ask for forgiveness...it is done! Not only is it forgiven, but it is forgotten as well. Micah 7:18-19 states _"Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea."_ Did you catch that? He will hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea. Gone, forgiven, and forgotten! We must learn how to forgive ourselves, and it starts with understanding the nature and depth of God's forgiveness.

Most China patterns consist of several separate pieces that make up a complete set. There's the dinner plate, the dessert plate, the bread and butter plate and the cup and saucer. Then of course, you have the accent pieces such as the large accent plate, the gravy boat, and the cream and sugar bowls. As I continued my journey desperately searching for answers to life's questions, I found myself meeting more and more people with our common bond; broken pieces of China, just like me. God seemed to bring cracked dessert plates, chipped cups, and fractured gravy boats, but I'll never forget the day I met Tasha, the shattered dinner plate.

Tasha's story: Two Holes

I had been invited to share my story at a local event. Tasha walked up to me afterward. She stated we had so much in common, and invited me to meet her for coffee the following Saturday morning. I graciously accepted. There was a look in her eye that told me she had something she desperately wanted to say, and I wanted to hear it. That Saturday morning at Panera Bread was the beginning of our journey, where we shared our life, our past hurts, and our future, all over hazelnut coffee and a whole wheat bagel. Tasha and I became fast friends and I felt an immediate connection with her. God has brought many women into my life in this same manner; strangers with one common bond. As we talked, laughed and cried, Tasha painted a picture with her words of her past life; a portrait with many dark, shadowy details.

Tasha and her husband, Jack, had just moved to Denver, Colorado to start a carpet cleaning business. Jack was a drug addict, bi-sexual and a pedophile, but that wouldn't be revealed to Tasha for many years. However, Tasha knew something was wrong with her marriage, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it, and because she believed in the sacred covenant of marriage, Tasha stayed.

She and Jack ran their carpet cleaning business out of their home, storing their vehicles and equipment inside the chain link fence Jack had placed surrounding their property. On top of the fencing, he placed three rows of barbed wire. Directly above the barbed wire sat a thick roping of razor wire, ready to shred anyone to pieces if they dared attempt to enter their yard. Jack told Tasha the fencing was to keep thieves out, but she believed it was to keep her and the children in. "Our home," she stated, "was a make shift prison."

Tasha's life seemed perfectly normal on the surface. Everyone liked Jack. Tasha did not know how to handle the embarrassment she often faced, or inadequacies she felt as a wife, and no one saw through the mask she always wore. She spent a lot of her marriage in uncertainty and confusion. She was not sure what to believe, nor could she trust her own instincts about anything.

Jack did not like Tasha to wear anything feminine. No dresses; no makeup. No blow-drying her hair. No wasting money on haircuts, either. She and the kids were only allowed practical clothes and shoes. Oh, he would buy nice clothes and special pieces of expensive jewelry for himself. Things that were bought for Tasha and the children belonged to a very short list: Overalls and boots for the boys, jeans and t-shirts for the girls, herself included. The only shoes she had permission to wear were work boots.

At Christmastime, they purchased no gifts themselves, and if any gifts were received from friends or family, Jack made her take the presents back. The only gifts that were acceptable to keep were Match Box cars or Tonka trucks; boys and girls alike.

Week after week, as Tasha calmly evoked memories of her past, my blood boiled and my heart ached at the pain that she and her children must have endured. One particular Saturday morning, Tasha walked in to Panera, sat down at our usual table, looked down at her bagel and stated she felt led to share the night God freed her and her children from the hands of her abusive husband. She summed up her painful past with two words: Two holes.

The first hole was dug into the ground in the backyard and used as a toilet. Jack would not allow them the privilege of having indoor plumbing, so they were forced to use the bathroom hole. In stark contrast, the second hole was dug into the flooring of their bedroom closet. Jack used this hole as a safe, where he kept a large sum of cash. The absolute absurdity of the contrasting two holes of Tasha's life was overwhelming.

I asked Tasha, "What made you decide to finally leave?" She spoke with trembling words, "I felt as though God himself picked me up and moved me." The abuse had gotten progressively worse, and the kids were suffering greatly. It was Tasha's birthday, and Jack had promised to make things up to her (as he so often promised) by taking her out to dinner. The wait at the first restaurant she picked was too long, and her second choice was too expensive. They spent hours walking around looking for a third restaurant. Tasha had a severe allergy to seafood and Jack, knowing this, decided upon a nice place that served only seafood. She did not eat. After dinner, she told Jack she was tired and wanted to go home. It was around 9:30pm and Jack informed her he needed to make a stop. He stopped in a seedy part of town, went into a home and didn't come out until 2am. She sat in the car immobilized by fear.

After her birthday, for no physical explainable reason, Tasha lost her voice and began trembling all over. She could not work. Jack threw some money at her and told her to go to the doctor and get this fixed. The doctor could not find anything physically wrong with her so they sent her on her way.

Two weeks later, Tasha was still unable to speak and the trembling continued. She heard an advertisement on the radio for a depression clinic, so she grabbed her pillow and drove herself to the clinic, checked herself in, and for the first time in two weeks, she found her voice. "My husband is molesting my children!"

Tasha had her parents pick up her kids, as she did not want to leave them with Jack. The clinic called the police and charges were filed. After spending a week in the clinic and her thoughts began to clear, Tasha believed it would be in her families best interest to take the kids and move out of state, so she went against doctor's orders and checked herself out.

She drove to her house, hoping and praying Jack was at work. Jack had the locks changed during her stay at the clinic, so she broke into her own home, which was booby trapped. She managed to elude all of the trip wires that were set, and made her way to the closet. She dug into the safe hole, took the cash and fled. She knew Jack would first look for her at the airport, so she and the kids hopped on a bus out of Denver, traveled across the country to Kentucky, then headed north and eventually settled in Troy, Michigan.

Jack tried to track her down, but his attempts were futile. Jack plea bargained two out of thirteen counts against him. He was convicted. He spent six months in prison for the horrific pain and abuse he caused upon Tasha and her children. Six small months was a slap on the wrist in comparison to the tragic lifelong trauma he caused his own family. He also received six months work release, and two years probation, plus he is a registered sex offender. I was sickened when Tasha told me that his prison sentence was six lousy months due to laws of leniency with cases of incest than with cases involving a stranger; the goal was putting families back together.

Hearing Tasha's words evoked memories in me regarding the first time I told my secret to someone outside of my immediate family. Debie listened to me, cried with me, and then shared her own story of abuse; another cracked piece of China in a long list of people God brought into my life who needed mending, just to remind me I wasn't alone.

She stayed far too long

Each Saturday morning, as Tasha revealed more and more of her past, we prayed she would come to a place of full and complete healing. Knowing this was an important step toward restoration didn't make the gory details any easier to hear. One particular morning, our topic of discussion was forgiveness. Like me, Tasha struggled with issues of her past. She carried shame, guilt, and anger toward herself for not leaving years earlier. She held herself responsible for the abuse her children had endured. In her eyes, had she left sooner, she may have spared her children the abuse and neglect they suffered.

Tasha whipped herself for not protecting her children. She hoped Jack would change. She prayed he would stop. He assured her he would. He told her he did. She wanted to believe in him; she wanted to believe in their marriage, so she stayed.

I was stunned when I came to the realization that Tasha's struggle had just as much to do with finding a way to forgive herself as it did forgiving her husband. While still a little dazed Tasha asked me what forgiving herself was supposed to look like. She simply could not understand how to forgive herself. Tasha had only one question: Where in the bible does it state it is okay for her to forgive herself? She wanted proof; black and white Biblical proof. She needed to see it in print. She was not convinced it was okay to forgive herself. She had, after all, stayed far too long. She not only bore the burdens of not being able to forgive herself, she carried guilt and held herself responsible for the abuse her precious children endured.

I had no idea how to answer her question. I was convinced God does not want us to carry around the burdens of our past. I'm certain God forgives us; He actually throws our sins into the sea (Micah 7:19). I know we are not supposed to judge others, and believe therefore we should probably not judge ourselves. I didn't think for one moment she was wrong when she chose to trust her husband. But this question on how to forgive ourselves is not one that I've given much thought to before. We promised to journey together until we it became clear.

Over the next several weeks and months as we discussed her problem, we came to realize just how BIG God truly is and the answer to Tasha's question might be one of those truths we do not want to hear. We like to pick and choose God's words as biblical loopholes to benefit our own circumstances. I'm not sure how close we are to finding Tasha's answer, but we are certain of one fact: God loves Tasha. He loves her kids more than she. He loves the un-loveable, too. God loves Jack. We may need to consider the possibility that God used Tasha and her kids to try to save Jack's soul. I cannot presume to know the mind or heart of God. When He works, there are many elements and scenarios in which He acts. One thing is for sure, God did end up protecting them. He closed Tasha's mouth and paved the way for her to leave. He then gave her the courage to file the necessary charges and to move on to a new and better life. The battle is still being fought for Jack's soul and the battle is still being fought for Tasha to be free of her guilt.

Tasha and I had a hard time grasping this concept. She was angry at me and at God. "Where do I go from here?" She shouted. "For decades, I have held on to the guilt of not protecting my kids because I stayed too long. I piled on more guilt and became so blind I could not see God working. The possibility that perhaps God used me and my kids in order to save a lost, yet undeserving soul is more than my heart can bear."

1 Corinthians 2:10(NLT) states _"But it was to us that God revealed these things by his Spirit, for his Spirit searches out everything and shows us God's deep secrets."_ Tasha has whipped and judged herself for so long she wasn't sure how to stop. Since we no longer practice the physical act of penance and we can't buy forgiveness, Tasha can either hold on to the guilt until the pain is unbearable, or she can ask God to reveal His deep secrets to her.

The scripture _"Love your neighbor as yourself"_ is repeated ten times in the bible: Once in Leviticus, three times in Matthew, twice in Mark, once in Luke, Romans, Galatians, and James. Mark 12:31b actually states _"No other commandment is greater than these."_ God must really want us to understand this. We are to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. We learn very early on that in order to love others, we must first love ourselves. It is practically impossible to love anyone if we do not love ourselves.

When traveling by air, as soon as the fuselage door is closed, the flight attendants go over safety procedures. As oxygen masks fall from the ceiling passengers are reminded to put the masks over their own mouths first, before they assist others with their masks. If passengers do not put their masks on first, they will not be able to help anyone else. The same principle can be applied here: We cannot love our neighbors if we do not love ourselves, which means we must love ourselves first. One must conclude that we cannot love ourselves and punish ourselves at the same time. In order to love ourselves, we must let go of the things we have done in our past that we are ashamed of.

I know God forgives Tasha for judging herself. The bible tells me so. God promises in Hebrews 10:17, _"...their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more."_ The Bible clearly states that we are responsible for our decisions, but God also promises to forgive us of our transgressions. If God forgives us of our sins, then our response to Him should be for us to forgive ourselves.

Let's stop mentally whipping ourselves until we feel worthy. We can trust God especially when we do not understand His plan. When people intend to harm us, God intends to make good of it _"to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives."_ Genesis 50:20(NIV)

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Chapter Seven: HEAP THOSE BURNING COALS!

_"We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies."  
_ ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Becoming a Christian did not soften my heart toward Stan. As a matter of fact, my alliance of hate with my sister had become stronger than ever before. When Stella called one afternoon to tell me Stan had been rushed to the hospital in severe pain, I happily began praying for him to suffer horribly and die. Doctors found a stomach ulcer had burst, and there was a good chance he might not make it. Also, his body went through major detox and the nurses had to strap his arms and legs down to the bed to keep everyone safe. Finally! Stan will die and I would be free from the bondage and baggage of having him in my life. My sister and I laughed and joked about his death, hoping it would be a painful one. In our minds he deserved to suffer for all the horrible things he had done to us growing up.

My husband, Mike, didn't like my attitude at all. He asked me if this was really the way I wanted to respond. He reminded me that I was a new person, directing me to 2 Corinthians 5:17 which states, _"if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!"_ He challenged me that perhaps my bitterness and hatred was in direct disobedience to God. He encouraged me to consider praying for Stan. He tried to convince me it was time for me to think about forgiveness. I struggled with my old nature, and at first, became irritated with Mike for even suggesting I forgive the man who had hurt me so horribly. I was the victim here, not Stan. He did not deserve to be forgiven by me, my sister, or anyone else; including God. But, I knew in my own heart that Mike was speaking truth. I also knew praying for Stan was beyond anything that I could ever do on my own, so I asked Mike to pray for Stan on my behalf.

Reluctantly I began to pray for the desire and courage to consider forgiving Stan. As I continued to resist God, I came upon a passage in Proverbs 25:21-22 that was morbidly comforting: _"If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you."_ Not understanding this verse at all, I used it to justify my vengeful feelings. I mentally pictured the Lord heaping burning coals on Stan's head as he lay shackled in his hospital bed. I took great pleasure in imagining God personally punishing Stan for what he had done to us. His horribly painful death would be like burning coals, and God's reward for my sister and me was allowing us to witness His justice on our behalf.

I would later learn that God's intent in having us bless our enemies is not to satisfy our need for revenge. If we obey God despite our feelings, our enemies will see our acts of compassion and hopefully change their ways. Our reward is seeing the miracle of changed souls–theirs, and ours. That is quite different from what I originally thought.

Much to my disappointment, Stan survived and over the next several weeks, I continued to sense God nudging me to forgive. Everywhere I turned, either a book or a lesson on forgiveness was put in my path. I could not get away from it. I walked into church one Sunday, sat down, opened the bulletin and realized the service was on forgiveness. I was ready to get up and leave, but my brother and sister-in-law were sitting between me and the aisle, and I did not want to embarrass them by running, screaming, from the building. They might have taken it personally.

God had strategically placed Greg and Cindy in the right place at the right time (which He has done countless times in our lives). They did not know it at the time, and neither did I, but God used them to be the support I needed in order to stay and hear His message. By the end of the service, I was overwhelmed with the conviction that I MUST forgive Stan. I no longer had a choice. It was something I had to do. I also knew I needed God's help to find the courage I required to let go of the past.

Stan drank his last Budweiser beer just before the ulcer burst in his stomach. He has not touched a drop of alcohol since. The doctor told him he would surely die if he did. Never, in a million years, did I think he would ever quit drinking. Neither my sister nor I understood why God would give him another chance at life, but a few short years later we had the privilege of seeing the whole, miraculous, bigger picture.

Part of my journey toward forgiveness has been to pull back the curtain of shame and bitterness and share my story. I had to talk honestly about what happened. I found a safe place to do that in our women's ministry as we studied God's word together. The women embraced me and my story, were patient and understanding of my conflicting emotions, and wrapped their hearts and arms around me while showing me unconditional love. And that's when true healing began.

For the ministry's annual year-end celebration, one of the ladies in our group encouraged me to share my forgiveness journey. After much prayer and great gnashing of teeth, I accepted their invitation. Recounting the story of my abusive past was very difficult, but I was also privileged to share how God's healing, love, and peace had been there, not only for me, but for them as well. A couple of years later a woman approached me and thanked me for sharing my testimony. She said it gave her the courage to begin her own journey of healing.

God often brings people into my life that have lived a life parallel to mine. I thought of Mr. Magoo, singing his song of aloneness in my favorite Christmas cartoon. I finally found a place where I could talk with beautiful voices who actually did talk back. God planned a hand for each hand in the world, and finally my fingers did reach. It's His way of letting me know I was not all alone in the world as I had believed for so many years.

As elated as I am about not being all alone, I am flabbergasted by the astounding number of people who have suffered from childhood sexual abuse. The shocking statistics surrounding childhood sexual abuse listed below are a disgusting reminder of the broken and fallen, sin-filled world in which we live:

•1 in 4 girls is sexually abused before the age of 18.  
1 in 6 boys is sexually abused before the age of 18.  
•1 in 5 children are solicited sexually while on the internet.  
•Nearly 70 percent of all reported sexual assaults (including assaults on adults) occur to children ages 17 and under.  
•An estimated 39 million survivors of childhood sexual abuse exist in America today.  
•30-40 percent of victims are abused by a family member.  
•Another 50 percent are abused by someone outside of the family whom they know and trust.  
•Approximately 40 percent are abused by older or larger children whom they know. Therefore, only 10 percent are abused by strangers.

30-40 percent of victims are abused by a family member! This is a prime example of generational sin. I was abused, and my mom told me I had to live with it. She was abused, and her mom told her she had to live with it. I would bet money that my grandma was abused, and her mom told her the same thing. Generation after generation of women and men are being abused as children because no one has had the courage to stand up and say "STOP!"

The passive attitude of ignoring the problem allows the abusive pattern to repeat itself. The abused children turn into adults who abuse because of such low self esteem, and continue to allow abusive adults to control them. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! I am the generation God has empowered to shed light on this problem, break the pattern, and speak out about childhood sexual abuse. I am here to empower women and men to stand up for themselves and stop this horrible behavior! We can stop it. We can educate our children so they can speak out if it happens to them. We can listen to them and believe their stories. We can stop protecting our abusers and inform the authorities so that the abusers are arrested, leaving them unable to hurt another child, no matter who the abuser is.

We must fight for our children's well being, so they will never ask the question, "Why did you allow this to happen?" "Why didn't you protect me?" We can promote generational blessings for our children by being parents who love, nurture and protect them at all costs, so they can do the same for their children. Good, godly parenting encourages children to be strong, and not dependent on drugs, alcohol, food, sex, porn, gambling or insert your addiction here in order to numb the emotional pain of their parents not standing up for them. We must stop this horrible abuse.

The trajectory I now took was focused on forgiveness and healing from the past, rather than seeking burning coals of revenge. However, I got sidetracked, as I began dumping flaming embers on the heads of others who should have protected me and didn't.

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Chapter Eight: I FORGIVE YOU-NOT!

_"In the Bible it says they asked Jesus how many times you should forgive, and he said seventy times seven. Well, I want you all to know that I'm keeping a chart."  
_ ~Hillary Rodham Clinton

Lisa is a divorced mother of two beautiful young girls, who is an amazingly strong Christian woman. She has overcome so much adversity in her life, especially when dealing with her ex-husband. She told me over lunch one afternoon that she struggles with forgiveness on a daily basis. One day she forgives him, completely, and the very next day he does something else that hurts her, and she has to forgive him all over again. In Matthew 18:21-22 Peter came to Jesus and asked, _"Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother, when he sins against me? Up to seven times?' Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."_

Forgiveness is a daily struggle. In some situations we have to forgive, and forgive and forgive, seventy times seven–or more. Was Jesus suggesting we keep track of the number of wrongs done to us? Or was He teaching us NOT to keep an account of offenses against us, and instead continually drink from the fountain of forgiveness that leads to freedom and happiness? It is not an easy task to journey to that fountain over and over again.

There is another reason why we need to forgive over and over again. The process of forgiveness can often take a long time as we discover and work through underlying issues and new layers of exposed pain. We know we need to forgive and forget, but how is that possible? We might forgive, but forgetting is another story.

We all live with the pain of our past, which radically influences our future. I tend to dwell on old feelings of not measuring up; that I simply am not good enough. I listen to the lies of the evil one and believe him when he whispers into my soul that I am not worthy. His tempting rationale, rooted in my past pain, can overpower the truth that I am a beloved child of God, His precious daughter, and He loves me. I am worthy, and I am good enough. I cannot allow the negativity of my past to shape my future. Jesus' blood was shed for that reason. Our memories are dysfunctional, often remembering pain, and forgetting what God has done for us, and who we are in Christ.

We are all works in progress, striving to achieve the ultimate goal; to be like Christ. But none of us will ever get to that place until we reach heaven. God continues to polish the image of Christ in us by putting us in situations that make us uncomfortable and force us to grow. We need to get out of our comfort zone in order to change, and forgiving and forgetting is certainly an uncomfortable experience.

I honestly had thought I had completed the process of forgiving my abuser, but I never really forgot what he had done, nor was I ready to let it go. I simply transferred my anger at Stan onto the person who continued to stick up for him; my mother. I needed to hear from her why she allowed the abuse to happen and why she did not believe or protect us. I had questions that needed answers. The biggest issue I had was that Mom had found the courage years ago to protect us from our own father, but she would not protect us from Stan. I tried to initiate conversations with her about my past, but her way of dealing with uncomfortable conversations has always been denial. I often joke that I live in Alabama, and my mom lives in Denial. Mom is a master at subtly changing the subject when she doesn't want to answer by asking deflecting questions about irrelevant things, like the weather.

In the past, although it frustrated me, I would allow her to evade me and stay in her world of denial. I would tell her what she wanted to hear, as an aunt had once instructed, but I was changing. I needed more from our relationship. I needed to know why, rather than help my sister and me, she chose to stick up for a man who was not only a pedophile, but a rapist. I needed to know how she could stay married to him. I did not understand, and I wanted to, but she refused to talk about it.

One day, I decided I was not going to allow her to change the subject. I kept asking questions and she just kept avoiding the answers. Finally, she got tired of my questions and my unwillingness to drop the subject. "Julia," she said, "I am just not going down that road with you."

I was furious! As usual, she refused to help. I remember thinking: Okay. This is it. This is the end of my relationship with my mother. She is choosing him over me. Even though I had forgiven Stan, it was clear I had not forgiven my mother for her passive role.

In Romans 12:18, Paul encourages believers to get along with one another with one condition: _"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone."_ I convinced myself it was NOT possible to live at peace with my mother and that it was her choice, not mine. I had tried to talk to her, to understand her, but she would not engage. I stopped calling her. If she called me, I would barely speak to her. My responses to her questions were always superficial: "Mike's fine, the kids are fine, I'm fine, and the weather is fine."

My sister surprised me one summer with a visit from my mom, but my unwillingness to forgive made it impossible for me to enjoy her visit. I did not want her in my house. I did not even want her in the same state. I did not want to talk to her. I felt badly about my negative attitude, but not bad enough to want to continue a one-dimensional relationship with her.

It was extremely troublesome that God had given me forgiveness for Stan, but I could not find it in my heart to forgive my mother. I struggled because I interpreted her resistance as evidence she did not care about me, and our relationship was not worth her effort. Once again, the image of the old, discarded, worthless paper plate invaded my mind, and penetrated my soul.

I finally seemed to have control of my life and I chose to use it to punish. Slowly, God began to work in my heart. He showed me that my mother was not yet strong enough to deal with our issues by bringing a traumatic past memory to the front of my mind.

When my first husband and I were newlyweds, we lived on Anna Maria Island in Florida in one of the time share units he sold. Because Dennis was a salesman, it was a common occurrence when we were out and about for him to stop and talk to someone about something. One afternoon on our way to the grocery store, we stopped at the Cortez Boat Marina. Dennis told me to wait in the car while he went inside to see someone. He said he would be right back, so I agreed to wait for him in the car. I sat out in the hot, scorching car and waited for him for over an hour.

The longer I sat there, the more scared I became, because I knew what he was doing. He was having sex with Ms. Cortez while I sat, paralyzed with fear, in the car. I could have left him there. I could have honked the horn or gone inside to see what the heck was going on. I could have done any number of things, but instead, I did nothing! I just sat there, and waited completely immobilized by fear.

When Dennis finally came back to the car, he had a smug look on his face, like he had just gotten away with something. And he had. We drove off and went to the grocery store like nothing had happened. Neither one of us said a word. I could not talk, because if I did, it would make what had happened real; so, like my mother, I took shelter in denial driven by fear. Denial somehow made everything okay. Seven years later, as I walked out the door for the last time, I finally found the courage to confront him about Ms. Cortez. Seven years later!

God brought this painful memory to mind to help me understand what my mother was going through. She was driven by fear, and simply not strong enough to confront the truth. I realized fear was ruling her life as much as it had controlled mine. It was not that she would not go down that road with me; she could not. She was not able to wrap her mind around any of it, and until she could, my efforts to force the issue were futile.

Fear does not come from the Lord; it comes straight from the pits of hell, which is where both Mom and I resided. Paul tells us in his letter to Timothy that _"God did not give us a spirit that makes us afraid, but a spirit of power, and love, and self control."_ (2 Timothy 1:7) Romans 8:15 reiterates: _"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear."_

Slowly, as God worked on my heart, I began to experience genuine compassion and forgiveness for my mother. I asked God to help me let it go. I was not sure how, but I was finally willing to learn what it meant to forget the unforgettable. I came to understand that while we will always remember those offenses, we need to remember Jesus' grace more, and not allow our painful past to affect our future in a negative way.

I often imagine my life as a blank canvas. Before I knew the Lord, all the decisions I made were like different shades of blues, greens, and reds, many shades and textures, all splashed helter skelter onto my canvas with no purpose, no vision, and no uniformity. Each decision I made, good or bad, I was using those beautiful colors to make one, big mess instead of thoughtfully creating a work of art with them. When different colors are mixed all together, the result is black; dull and ugly. When Jesus comes into our lives, He takes all those ugly, dark, mixed up colors, swooshed effortlessly onto our canvas, and paints over the whole mess with white paint, making us clean and pure.

As I grew and changed in the Lord, He gave me the strength and courage to let go of the dark, ugly colors of my past, presented me with a clean, white canvas, and with His help and strength, I began to repaint a beautiful future, with pride and precision.  
**  
Step Three** Let it go.

When we give God permission to change our heart, He will, by giving us a new perspective, help us let go of the past so we can heal. When our hearts are softened and we are ready to move on, ask God for the strength and courage to let "it" – all the pain, bitterness, and need for revenge - go, completely. It is tempting to hold on to bad memories, but to do so hurts us even more because we are continually living in our pain. Pray these simple words: "Lord, give me the strength and courage to let go of the past that I have held onto for so long. Give me Your supernatural power to let this go and replace it with your peace; peace that I do not understand, but freely accept. In your Son's precious name. Amen."

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Chapter Nine: WHERE'S MY APOLOGY?

_"Rwandans can never forget, but they must forgive. Revenge only prolongs the pain."  
_ ~Immaculée Ilibagiza

As I continued to wrestle with forgiveness, a special speaker came to our church. Her name was Immaculée Ilibagiza. She is a survivor of the Rwanda Genocide that took place in her country in 1994. She is also a survivor of un-forgiveness. Hearing her story significantly impacted my life and my ability to forgive.

In April 1994, the Hutu tribe began 24-hour radio broadcasts calling for the killing of all Tutsis, after the Oct.'93 assassination of President Melchior Ndadaye. The Hutus slaughtered more than 800,000 innocent Tutsis in just 100 days using machetes, spears and knives. Hundreds of thousands of Tutsis fled the country.

Immaculée Ilibagiza witnessed the killings firsthand. She remembers looking out over the hillside, watching as the Hutu people chopped her friends and family to bits and pieces with machetes. Tutsis were slaughtered right where they stood.

Immaculée ran to the home of a family friend, who was also a Hutu minister and begged him to hide her. Immaculée and six other women hid in a tiny 3' x 4' bathroom located in an isolated corner of his home. The seven women huddled in this teeny room for 91 days. She and the other women had to take turns standing up and sitting down. They had very little food. She weighed 115 pounds when she entered the bathroom and 65 pounds when she left.

While in hiding, Immaculée taught herself English by reading the Bible and a dictionary. She prayed from the moment her eyes opened until they closed. She had rosary beads given to her by her devout Catholic father. Anger, resentment and bitterness ate her alive. Rather than yield to the rage, Immaculée turned to the Bible and prayer, and God taught her how to forgive.

After three months of hiding, the women escaped to French camp a couple of miles away. Immaculée was finally safe, but discovered that her entire family had been killed. The Hutus had shot her father as he tried to sneak food for neighboring children. They laid his body on a roadblock as an example to deter anyone else from offering to help others survive.

The Tutsis Army was formed and captured most of the country. The killing was finally over. Today, Tutsis continue to control the country, but share power with the Hutus. The economy has recovered, and hundreds of thousands of Tutsis returned from exile. The country is peaceful but still on edge. Hutus wanted to resume the genocide, while Tutsis wanted revenge. But God healed the entire country, and slowly, the two tribes found forgiveness.

Immaculée now works for the United Nations, has written several books, and travels around the world sharing her miraculous story of survival and forgiveness. God gave her the supernatural strength, through her faith, to say the words "I forgive you" to the man responsible for killing her parents and siblings. In recounting how Immaculée was able to forgive him, she is honest and adamant: "I know, completely, in my heart, it (un-forgiveness) won't change anything. It won't change his heart. It won't bring the people back that he's killed. We must forgive!" We must forgive because it changes us.

I heard her story at a critical time in my life; when I was trying to find forgiveness in my own heart for my abuser. I am thankful God brought her to my church while I was struggling the most with un-forgiveness. I needed to hear her story; it gave me the strength I needed to continue my journey of forgiveness. If God could heal an entire country, certainly He could heal me of my one, lone, unforgiving spirit.

God freely extends undeserved grace and forgiveness to every one of us. Should not we, in return, extend that same courtesy to others?

Johnny's story

When Johnny was two years old, his father, Dennis, and I went through a tumultuous and extremely difficult divorce. Since I was the one who initiated the split, Dennis decided I was the one who had to leave. Johnny and I moved around from place to place. We were on our own for the first time and struggled to survive. In a sense, it was Johnny and I against the world.

I remarried, had two more children and suddenly Johnny was forced to share his mom with three other people. It was no longer Johnny and I against the world. From a child's perspective, bringing home a new baby can be as traumatic as a husband bringing home a new wife; you are forced to deal with it and have no say in the matter. I remember the day we told Johnny we were pregnant with our second child. Distraught, he screamed at us, "Why are you doing this to me?" In his mind, we were ruining his life.

As Johnny struggled with the issue of sharing his mom, we moved to a new city. For him a new house, a new neighborhood, a new school and new friends were more changes than he could handle. As he tried to adjust, there was friction in our home. He rebelled and lashed out in anger and resentment.

Johnny was trying to get my attention just as I had tried to get my mother's attention years before, but my eyes were completely closed to his pain. This deep and gushing wound needed more than words to repair. This wound required grace.

As I looked to God's word to unravel the mysteries of forgiveness in my own life, tensions were rising in my home. We had a No Drug policy in our home that Johnny chose to ignore. Because of his choices to disobey our rules time and time again, I decided it would be best if he went to live with his father. Perception is reality, and in Johnny's eyes, he was abandoned and rejected by the one person he thought he could trust the most. His world was changing. Again.

From that moment on Johnny treated me like a stranger. In his eyes, I had chosen my husband over him and put his younger brother and sister ahead of him. His mother was supposed to have his back no matter what, and family stuck together; period. Neither of those assumptions happened for Johnny. Instead, his world was crumbling beneath his feet. After all, I had chosen everyone over him. Johnny became extremely upset when I made the choice to follow God. Rather than understand my decision as the incredible change I had searched for my entire life and desperately needed, he saw my choice to follow Christ as the ultimate rejection, for in his mind I had even chosen God over him.

Johnny lived with his dad for a while but quickly came to the realization they could not live together. So, he moved in with a friend, graduated from high school, and joined the Air Force. He ended up bravely serving two tours of duty in Iraq.

When Johnny was home on leave, we rarely saw him. He spent the majority of his time with his friends, only coming home to sleep. He did not value his family, because in his eyes, he had been abandoned and was left to fend for himself; and his mom didn't care. He was unable to let go of the past, and, like me, he felt tossed aside like the same old paper plate!

Johnny's bitterness and anger was fueled as he discussed his situation with his friends and co-workers. When he heard about the crazy acts they had pulled, and that they had never been kicked out of their house, his sense of being treated unfairly, and his resentment deepened. The more he vented his frustrations with friends, the more he withdrew from me.

Johnny often expressed that all he ever wanted from me was an apology; to admit I was wrong for kicking him out. He even told me the reason he did not value his family was because his friends treated him better than I ever did. He also did not like my commitment as a Christian; he did not like the person I had become.

I justified my actions and decision rather than acknowledge Johnny's feelings. The fact is his feelings were justified. His feelings are his and his alone. No one can take those feelings away from him, and rather than try to understand them, I defended my own actions.

The only thing Johnny wanted from me was an apology, and I made him wait for it for years. It was the payment he demanded for what I had done to him, and he would not accept anything less. In his mind the apology would make him feel better, fix all his problems, and make the pain of his past go away.

The truth is I have spent a lifetime apologizing for the decisions I made involving Johnny. I am not sure I have ever been forgiven. He rejected my apologies, telling me I did not mean them or I was only trying to pacify him, and maybe I was. I could not apologize any more for my choices. I knew the apology would not help; the pain is real and the wounds are deep. An apology cannot fix this brokenness. No apology was ever going to be good enough. Johnny wanted me to suffer for hurting him, just as I had wanted Stan and my mother to suffer for hurting me.

I am not saying we should never apologize. We should always apologize when we hurt others. We should always repent. In my experience, waiting for an apology keeps our hurts active and prevents us from letting go and moving on. The waiting is what holds us back; sometimes we wait for years and an apology never comes. In some cases, it comes and we never see it.

Is an apology important? What will it change? Will it change the past or erase the feelings of abandonment? Will it ease your pain so you can move on with a fruitful life? In most scenarios, the apology does open the door to restoration, and makes it easier to forgive our offender. But we should be willing to forgive without waiting for an apology. If we make it a condition for working toward forgiving others, we may never experience the freedom from pain forgiveness provides. I waited twenty-five years for an apology that never came. Johnny waited eight years for my apology, but when I gave it to him, he never saw it.

Lewis Smedes believes it is a bad idea to wait for a person to apologize; in doing so we give them permission to continue to hurt us. We get stuck with the pain, and continue to grant them power over us. We only have two choices; either forgive unconditionally, or stay in bondage to the person who hurt us. "Why should you put your future happiness in the hands of an unrepentant person who hurt you unfairly to begin with? Forgive and let the other person do what he wants. Heal yourself."

God showed me through my experience with Johnny that finding out "why?" may not be as relevant as we think. In reality, we do not always get the apology we feel we deserve. We can wait a long time, and never heal. If we do get an apology, it opens doors leading to reconciliation, but we still need to complete the process of forgiving, and let go of the pain in order to heal.

The evil one wants us to sit in our pain waiting for an apology that may never come. We fall prey to his trap. He wants us to spend time going over it in our heads, rehashing the pain we experienced. He wants us to talk to others and complain about how unfairly we were treated so they can sympathize with us at our pity party. He wants us paralyzed by fear and misery. He wants us to buy into the lie that if we hold out for "the apology", we are doing the right thing.

The longer we wait, the more bitterness and resentment take root, and the stronger our bondage becomes. The evil one wants us to continue to demand an apology, and get bogged down in our journey toward forgiveness. Waiting for an explanation or apology that may never come only generates more anger and resentment, and leads to estrangement. That is the evil one's plan, and we fall prey to it almost every time. The evil one is a thief, a joy stealer. Jesus comes that we may _"have life to the full."_ (John 10:10NIV)

When Immaculée walked into the courtroom and saw the men who had murdered her family, she was not waiting for an apology. With God by her side, she was able to forgive her offender. She did not ask for, nor did she receive, an apology for the pain she had suffered. She did not ask why. She openly and freely offered forgiveness, and God gave her peace in return.

When Johnny stops searching for that apology, and truly forgives me, without any expectations, his heart will change and then, perhaps, he'll be able to hear God. In some ways it will always be Johnny and me against the world. He's grown now, with lots of distractions, but in the end, we will need to make sense of our failures and find purpose in our lives in spite of them. It will be Johnny and me who, by God's grace, will eventually claim victory over our mutual disappointments, through forgiveness \- undeserved, unapologetic, immediate, "Jesus-like" forgiveness.

**Step Four:** Forgive immediately.  
Forgiveness changes our heart; the apology does not. We need to work towards trying to forgive our offenders immediately, without waiting for the apology to find us, and without expecting anything in return. Ask God to help you forgive your offender without the apology you feel is due you. The apology is not necessary for healing to take place. Immediate forgiveness is a discipline in freedom. Do not allow the evil one to gain a bitter stronghold in your life by seeking an apology that may or may not ever come. Offer immediate forgiveness to your offender and watch God work in your life! When we stop waiting for apologies, and offer forgiveness anyway, our hearts are transformed and open to hearing God. Pray this simple prayer: "Father, help me forgive immediately. Give me courage not to waste precious time waiting on an apology, but to offer forgiveness quickly. Replace my bitterness and anger with peace. In Jesus name. Amen."

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Chapter Ten: FORGIVE EVEN A MURDERER?

_"I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus."  
_ ~Apostle Paul

As I continued to read and study Scripture, it dawned on me that God used ordinary people, sins and all, to accomplish His will and act on His behalf. Flawed and very human men and women lived out their faith in everyday situations and for extraordinary events. How they put their faith into action helps us gain wisdom and courage to follow their example when we go through similar situations.

God uses a variety of means to get our attention: He brings godly people into our lives; or He uses our circumstances or a tragedy to break down our inborn resistance. Often He speaks to us through Scripture, the pages of a book, or the inspired words of a preacher, teacher, or friend. He can use a grand, miraculous gesture, or speak directly into our heart through the quiet whisper of His voice within us. Whatever method He uses, once He has our attention, everything changes.

Saul was a murderer. He worked for the same Jewish religious leaders, the Pharisees, who had killed Jesus, and his mission was to hunt down and kill or imprison any and all known followers of The Way. The leaders of the fledgling movement and the followers of Jesus feared Saul, but it did not stop them from preaching the Gospel. Despite his efforts, the church prospered and grew.

Stephen was a well-respected leader and follower of Jesus, full of God's grace and power. The Pharisees did not like Stephen because, when they opposed him, they could not stand up against his wisdom. Instead they accused him of blasphemy, arrested him, and took him before the religious council known as the Sanhedrin. They felt as threatened by Stephen as they had been by Jesus, afraid their people would abandon them to become Jesus followers. When they brought Stephen before the Council, he pointedly accused them of betraying and murdering Jesus. They were so furious that they rushed at him, dragged him out of the city, and began to stone him to his death. _"Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul."_ (Acts 7:58b)

This is the first time Saul is mentioned in the Bible. Some scholars believe witnessing Stephen's stoning had a huge impact on Saul, and God used this event to begin the change in his heart. As Stephen was being stoned to his death, he fell on his knees and cried out for the Lord not to hold their sin against them. Like Jesus, Stephen asked God to forgive his abusers; even as he was dying, being beaten with stones.

" _And Saul was there, giving approval to his death."_ (Acts 8:1) Can you imagine the horror of how Stephen's loved ones felt? I am sure they were filled with anger toward Saul and the others who killed him. Do you think Stephen's family lashed out at Saul? Do you think they vowed to get even with Saul?

I want you to imagine for a moment that Stephen's mother walked up to Saul, moments after watching her son killed, and offered immediate forgiveness, just as the Amish Community did to the man who murdered their innocent children. Do you think an act of that incredible mercy and radical grace could have been a defining moment in Saul's life, so much so that two chapters later, he gave his life to Jesus? Can you imagine what our world would be like if we offered immediate forgiveness to any and all of our trespassers?

The Bible does not say, so we can only speculate about what was on Saul's mind and heart that day. But it is not hard to surmise that experiencing forgiveness under those circumstances would undoubtedly be impactful and life altering; it can only be described as miraculous. His miracle of forgiveness.

I believe Stephen's death played a significant role in preparing Saul for his encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. I can envision Stephen's mother, although grief stricken, seeking out Saul, one of the men responsible for killing her child, and saying "I forgive you". It would be the most difficult and courageous thing a mother would ever have to do; and could only be done with the help of God's supernatural strength, and great faith.

I witnessed that biblical story unfold while watching an episode of Dog, The Bounty Hunter with my son one day. This is a reality cable show where Dog, a bounty hunter, chases after criminals who have jumped bail. Dog and his wife, Beth, put up the bail money in good faith that the transient will show up for court, to begin their journey of rehabilitation. I admire Dog's mission to clean up his little space in the world, but what I love most about him is his faith. He is a man you do not want to mess with. His façade is strong and mean; but his demeanor is kind and loving. He loves the Lord, and it is evident. He is tenacious, and will stop at nothing to capture fugitives, but then he shows them love, mercy, compassion and grace as he hauls them off to jail.

This particular episode had an extremely powerful message. It featured a young woman, let's call her Lucy, who was addicted to crystal meth (or ICE as Dog calls it.) Lucy had jumped bail and went into hiding, knowing she was on Dog's arrest list. Lucy's boyfriend, I'll call him Jay, sent a suicide letter to Dog, giving information where Dog could find Lucy. Jay knew if Lucy were incarcerated, she would no longer have access to drugs. He also stated in his letter to Dog that Lucy would never get clean on her own and stated his final wish was to save Lucy from herself by turning her in.

In the meantime, Lucy, devastated by Jay's death, decided it was time to stop running. She went to Dog's office to turn herself in, and while she waited for paperwork to be completed, Jay's mother, Alice, arrived. Alice walked over to the distraught Lucy and began a conversation with her. Lucy cried in Alice's arms. She felt responsible for Jay's death and if she had only listened to Jay and gotten help, he would still be alive. Alice told Lucy it would have been Jay's birthday that day, driving Lucy deeper into despair. Alice then embraced Lucy, told her she loved her like her own daughter, and forgave her. The two women, both grieving from their loss, came together in unity and formed a bond like no other.

Tears poured down my cheeks as I watched this gracious mother forgive the woman who had caused so much despair that ended her son's life. As always, at the end of the episode, Dog gathered his team, held hands to pray and thanked the Lord for His perfect timing and His perfect will. I hope Lucy understands and appreciates the gift she has been given, and that the power of immediate forgiveness will help her stay clean and sober.

After Stephen's death, Saul left to go to Damascus in order to continue his quest of persecuting, imprisoning, and murdering Christians. Jesus got his attention with a flash of light from heaven, and Saul fell to the ground. Then he heard Jesus' voice: _"Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"_ (Acts 9:4) The light blinded Saul, and he didn't regain his sight until several days later, where God used that time to reveal himself to Saul.

God meets us in many ways. He met Saul with a flash of light from heaven. No matter how He meets us, the important thing is to experience His love and inner healing. When we have our Damascus road moment, God can use our personal past to help other lost souls dealing with the same issue.

Saul's friend, Ananias laid his hands on Saul, and prayed for the Lord to restore his sight. _"Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again."_ (Acts 9:18) He spent several days in Damascus, regaining his strength, was baptized and began preaching in the synagogues that Jesus was, indeed, the Son of God.

The very man who witnessed Stephen's murder and actually approved of it; the very man who set out to destroy Christianity by persecuting Christians, is the very man God chose to passionately proclaim the Gospel to the Gentiles, and write thirteen books of the New Testament. Saul spent the rest of his life being persecuted and imprisoned; the persecutor became the persecuted. Saul endured it gladly, for he knew he had been forgiven when God chose a murderer to impact His kingdom.

If God could change and use Saul, just think what He can do in our lives, or in the life of a person who has hurt us in some way.

Kent Whitaker's Story

In my research, I came across a book entitled Murder by Family by Kent Whitaker. It is a compelling story of true forgiveness.

Bart Whitaker, plotted and planned to murder his family. After several botched attempts, Bart's scheme finally came to completion. Bart came home from college under the guise of celebrating his upcoming graduation. Unbeknownst to his family, Bart had dropped out of college and had squandered away the money. He and his family went out for a celebratory dinner, while his recruited college roommate waited at the bottom of the stairs in the Whitakers home, armed and ready to carry out the plan.

The plot was to shoot and kill everyone except Bart, who was to be shot, but only slightly wounded. The police would assume it was a botched robbery, and Bart would be in the clear. Two shots were fired as Bart's mother, Tricia and brother, Kevin entered the home. Kent came up next and was hit in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. The fourth shot hit Bart in the shoulder. The roommate then fled the scene, leaving everyone for dead. Kevin died instantly, while Tricia and Kent were both airlifted to the hospital, where Tricia died. Bart was taken by ambulance. Only Kent and Bart survived.

Kent states in his book that as soon as he woke up in the hospital, he felt a strong urge to forgive everyone involved in the shooting. He began praying for God to help him forgive. Little did he know that the person he had to forgive was his own flesh and blood.

Bart Whitaker and his roommate were the only suspects; the police were convinced it was Bart, especially after uncovering Bart's colorful past. Kent thought the police were wasting time with Bart while the real killer was still at large. Kent could not believe his son was the master mind behind the murder of his own family, and until the police had irrefutable proof, Kent did not allow them to convince him otherwise.

Kent and Bart faced many trials during their recovery. Kent taught Bart all he knew about forgiveness. He had seven months to disciple his son planting seeds of change. They studied and prayed together often. In Kent's words, if Bart were not guilty, then Bart would need spiritual guidance to handle the pressures of a possible trial. If he were guilty, then Bart needed to get the heart knowledge that true repentance is the path that leads to God's forgiveness. Since God had already given Kent the ability to forgive, he now realized his job was to help Bart understand all God's love for us.

Eventually the guilt overtook Bart, and he ran away to Mexico. The police had gathered a plethora of evidence to convict him. It was then and only then Kent admitted that Bart had indeed been the sole mastermind of this horrific nightmare.

After fifteen months, Bart was arrested in Mexico and extradited back to the states to stand trial. He was found guilty of murder in the first degree, and given the death sentence. Bart currently sits on death row awaiting his appeal. Psalm 99:8 states _"O Lord our God, you answered them; you were to Israel a forgiving God, though you punished their misdeeds."_ Justice was served, and Bart is currently serving out his sentence.

During his time in Mexico, Bart gave his life to the Lord. According to his father, Bart's life was dramatically changed, and he returned to the U.S. to accept responsibility for his actions. As a result of his death sentence, he was placed in solitary confinement and is unable to speak to, or have physical contact with anyone until the day he is executed.

His father, Kent, stated he felt it was too late for Bart to make a difference in the world, but I disagree. It is never too late for God to use someone to make a difference in the lives of those around you. God turned Saul's life around, changed his name to Paul, and used him to impact the world. God can do the same for Bart, and He can do the same for you and me.

God loves Bart, who killed his family, and has forgiven him. No sin is above the others; sin is sin. It does not matter how big or small the sin is; God sees it all as sin. In Luke 23, as Jesus was on the cross dying, two criminals were being crucified with him. One of them shouted at him to save himself if he was indeed the Christ. The other criminal admonished him: _"Don't you fear God...since you are under the same sentence?" Then he said to Jesus, "...remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."_

Jesus was completely innocent, but the two men being crucified with him that day were criminals who deserved punishment for their crimes. One man trusted Jesus, and believed he was going to go to Heaven with Him that very day. As a result of his faith, his sins were forgiven. Does this seem fair? No, not really. But is does give us a glimpse into the heart of God and depth of His love and forgiveness.

Most of us cannot wrap our minds around evil, let alone murder! Yet some people live their entire lives as criminals and with their dying breath accept Jesus into their hearts. Their sins are forgiven and they are welcomed into heaven because God keeps His promises, and He loves each one of us. His love is perfect.

We love our children no matter how they act or what they have done. We might not like them or even agree with the decisions they make but we always love them. God's children do not always make the best decisions, but that is the beauty of choice and free will. He still loves us no matter what. That is God's perfect love.

Kent recounts how "Once I made that decision (to forgive), God moved. I chose to forgive everyone who was involved in the murders, but it was God who gave me the power to do so. This may be the biggest lesson for all of us; people hurt other people really badly; but since God commands us to forgive, he will give us his supernatural power to do it if we submit ourselves to Him."

How is it possible for a man to forgive his own son after he murdered his wife and child and tried to kill him as well? He could not do it on his own. He needed to tap into the power of God's grace and mercy, and so do we. We need His strength to pray for those who trespass against us. We can pray for our offenders.

Praying for my abuser was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. But praying for Stan helped me see him the way God sees him. I began to find compassion and mercy in my heart for him. I experienced the power of prayer; the power that comes from not only praying for the person who has wronged me, but praying blessing into that person's life.

Karla Faye's Story

Karla Faye Tucker was the first woman ever to serve on death row and the first woman to be executed in 1998 in Texas. In 1983, she and her boyfriend killed two people with a pick ax during a drug-induced frenzy. She was twenty-three years old. She served on death row for many years before her final request to stay her execution was denied by then-Governor George W. Bush.

While she was serving her sentence, she became a Christian and began a prison ministry, leading other lost women to Christ. She was given the opportunity to help people rather than hurt them. She is quoted as saying "Christ is in my heart, and every day is special."

Ron Carlson was devastated by the murder of his sister Deborah Thornton. He was consumed with hatred and anger toward Karla. He turned to drugs and alcohol to help deal with the pain. The vicious cycle of addiction reared its ugly head, and Ron was faced with not only masking his pain, but also dealing with the guilt and shame associated with the consequences of his addiction.

Ron found his deceased father's Bible and began reading and studying Scripture, especially The Lord's Prayer. He began to realize his anger and hatred was driving him into insanity. The only way out, was through forgiveness. The more he studied, the more God worked on his heart to forgive. He states in his testimony that "I can't. But Christ can. And I let him." He began praying for strength and courage to forgive, and then he began praying for Karla.

The first time Ron visited Karla, he offered her forgiveness, and the hatred and anger melted away. He said it was like "a great weight taken off his shoulders." God replaced his anger with mercy and grace, and the gift of friendship with Karla. God CAN change lives. No one, not one person, deserves the grace and forgiveness that He offers. But God freely gives it. Ron visited his friend, Karla, weekly until the day she was executed.

Ron was at the viewing of Karla's execution. On one side of the viewing room sat the family and friends of the victims, and on the other side sat Karla's friends. Ron chose to sit in the section designated for Karla's friends. Another one of His miracles of forgiveness.

Some of you reading this may not be able to forgive those who wronged you yet. The wounds may be too fresh, or too deep. I want to encourage you to begin your process towards healing. Ask God to give you the courage to pray for your offender. It was not until I began the process of praying for Stan that I began to change. I began to grow closer to God, and He began changing my heart. Did you catch that? I began to change; not Stan. My attitude and my heart changed.

One of my favorite songs is by a band called Falling Up . They sing of healing, and forgiveness:

"There's a healing calling from the wind,  
There's a healer waiting to begin;  
In timeless places, traced and faceless will I learn to let go;  
Take me to the heights where love controls,  
Far away from home but feels so close,  
This empty heart of mine will fall inside and bring me back to life."

God is the healer, and He is waiting to work on your broken heart. He will help you let go and bring your empty heart back to life. We are not capable or strong enough to forgive on our own. But God is. We can pray for our offenders and allow God to do the work that only He can do. God can do anything. Do not underestimate his mighty power. He is bigger than any situation you or I could ever face.

Forgiveness was a necessary part of Saul's transformation, Kent's obedient love, and Ron's friendship. Sometimes the healing process takes years, and we cannot see the big picture perspective right away. Sometimes the results are immediate and miraculous, but for me it was a slow, unfolding process. **

Step Five** Pray for your offender.

This is the step most people stumble over and decide to give up. Hang in there...there is hope. The healing process cannot continue unless you pray for the person(s) who hurt you. This not only helps you to heal, but it opens the door to the heart of your offender so God can work in them as well. Pray these simple, but not so easy, words: "Lord, I am weak. I need your help. I need your strength and your courage to pray for _______________ who hurt me. I believe you are bigger than the pain and un-forgiveness I desire to overcome. I can do this and all things with you by my side. Please help _______________ to change, and experience your forgiveness. Help me forgive them as you do. Lord, thank you for your grace and mercy that is new every single day. I love you. Amen

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Chapter Eleven: GIVE IT UP

_"A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense."  
_ Proverbs 19:11

_"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past."  
_ Isaiah 43:18

_"Forgiveness is the key to action and freedom."  
_ ~Hannah Arendt

When God begins to work on our hearts in the area of forgiveness, a step by step process of increasing trust unfolds. First, we realize our need for help and forgiveness for ourselves, and ask Jesus into our heart and life ( **step one** ). We soon discover we need God to soften our hearts toward our abuser ( **step two** ), and to help us let go of the past ( **step three** ). We can practice immediate forgiveness ( **step four** ) without waiting for an apology or expecting anything in return. We learn to rely on God for the courage to pray for our offender ( **step five** ), and finally we trust Him enough to give it up daily and resist bitterness and pain ( **step six** ).

Forgiveness is thought to be an unnatural act. It is painfully difficult. Even when we think we have forgiven, memories of past hurts and offenses continue to plague us like unhealed wounds in our soul. In order to fully forgive, we must learn to let go of painful memories and let those wounds heal so we can move forward. Often, letting go and giving it up to God can be the hardest part of that process. We mistakenly think we are protecting ourselves by holding onto unhealthy memories, but we are actually hurting ourselves by not letting them go and giving them to God. Often what holds us back is our fear that the offender will get away with what they have done or will repeat the offense. But God says the cost is much greater if we do not give it up. It simply is too costly not to forgive.

Jesus teaches us in The Lord's Prayer to ask God to _"forgive us our trespasses (sins) as we forgive those who trespass (sin) against us."_ The bottom line is this: We experience God's forgiveness as much as we are willing to forgive others. God loves everyone, and He is willing to forgive anyone. He wants us to forgive others in order to reflect His heart and experience freedom and peace. It is just so hard to forgive when we are in the middle of hating someone because they severely wronged us. I have made so many bad choices, and committed such a variety of sins, for which I am deeply grateful for God's forgiveness. How can I stand before God, being forgiven for my sins, and not be a forgiving person myself?

Balloon of Resentment

After my stepfather's surgery, when it became clear God had given him another chance at life, I wrote him a letter. In the beginning of the letter, I was forgiving, but by the end I had slipped back into anger and bitterness. I was accusatory and demanding, blaming him not only for my problems, but for my brothers' and sister's problems as well. I wrote that I had forgiven him, and I thought I had, but I was still angry.

I expected him to apologize and be remorseful. Instead, I got no response at all. I had forgiven him--with expectations and conditions. True forgiveness is unconditional. I had not given up my need for him to pay for what he had done; I was still trying to punish Stan and as a result I was blocking God from working in our lives.

I was convinced there were others Stan had hurt, but when I tried once again to talk to my mother about Stan's pattern of abuse, she refused to talk about it, which only added more fuel to my angry fire. Even though I thought I had forgiven him and given the situation to God, I was still holding on to my bitterness and sense of betrayal. Like a helium balloon tied to my wrist, I would let the balloon control my emotions. I allowed it to float up only as far as the attached string would go then I would pull the string to bring the balloon back down to look at it, dwell on it, and get angry about it.

True forgiveness from the heart needs no apology or admittance from the person who wronged you. You extend forgiveness so that you can move on. You extend forgiveness so that you can heal. True forgiveness comes with no strings attached; no expectations or conditions. True forgiveness means giving it up to God once and for all, and then cutting the string so we are unable to pull it back down. God takes our bitter filled balloon as it floats further away from us and replaces our anger, resentment and need for revenge with the free gift of peace...all He asks is for us to cut the string and let the balloon go.

Total forgiveness does not mean the person who wronged us is off the hook with God. Each person must deal with God for their sins either in this life or the next. When forgiveness is practiced properly it is from the heart, with no expectations, and all aspects are given up to God. Not until we give up the negative emotions of un-forgiveness that consume us can our hearts be filled instead with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. It begins when we bear with one another and forgive each other, just as the Lord has forgiven us. Colossians 3:14-15 goes on to say _"Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts..."_ When you give it up, God gives you peace.

**Step Six:** Give it up.  
Give it up every day. Visualize yourself lifting your hands up to heaven and laying this burden at God's feet. Give it up and cut the string that holds it in your grasp. Sometimes this exercise will need to be performed daily, hourly, or minute by minute if necessary. God loves you and wants you to be restored to health and happiness. Pray these simple words: "God, thank you for helping me to forgive. Continue to work in me the miracle of forgiveness and bring me to a place of total restoration, freedom, and healing. Help me remember the offense no more, and to give you all the glory. In Jesus most holy name. Amen."

My brother David, who died

"No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible."

~Voltaire

God finally showed me what total, complete, true forgiveness was when my brother, David, took his life in July 2007.

David was a loner who did not talk much. He would not allow anyone to get close to him, so I really did not know him well. We did not get along when we were kids, or as adults. He would continually make derogatory comments about women. David believed, just as many men in my family believed, that women were put here on this earth to be used by men in whatever capacity they wanted. I hated that attitude. I'm not exactly sure why David was the only person I would challenge, but I would continually fight to get him to understand that his thinking towards women was flawed. As a result, he did not like me.

I believe David never got over our father's death. He never understood why dad took his own life. He thought he had done something wrong to drive dad away. He always said he would end up dying like Dad died. He was always so negative, especially when he drank. David was a lifelong alcoholic, and the more his life revolved around booze, the more bizarre his behavior became. The more he drank, the more he talked about suicide.

David would call me every Christmas. He would inevitably be drunk, but year after year he would remind me that if anything happened to him, he wanted his nieces and nephews to have his retirement fund. I always asked him to stop talking that way, and tried to encourage him to go to AA to get help, but he swore he would never set foot in an AA meeting. My sister and I never took him seriously. Now, I would give anything to receive my annual Christmas phone call from David again.

During the last year of his life, the only thing David did was drink, and fish. He had quit his job as produce manager at Publix Grocery Store, cashed in one of his retirement packages, and proceeded to get drunk every waking hour. His alcoholism was so bad he had the shakes all the time. His body was deteriorating. The last time I saw him, he looked like an old man. He was in his early forties, but he looked at least thirty years older.

David gave his mobile home to some girl, moved in with a friend, and the two of them drank their lives away. It got so bad, I feared for his life. I wrote him letters and called him often, trying to convince him to get help. He always thanked me, but refused. He didn't want to quit drinking. Eventually, he and his buddy got into a fight, and David moved back home with Mom and Stan. Although he moved his things into the house, he never unpacked. He slept on the couch, not in his bedroom.

I talked to David often during the last six months of his life; he was intoxicated every time we talked. I continued to offer help, continued to encourage him to go to AA. He still did not want any help. I would tell him I loved him, and rather than his usual response of "Yeah, me too" he would actually say the words I love you.

David decided to take his life long before he actually went through with it. He planned it for July 4th so that no one would be suspicious when they heard the gun shot. He had managed to get a job detailing RV's at a local dealership, deposited all of his money into the bank and took only enough money for cigarettes, gas, and booze. Once in awhile, he would hand our niece, Ann, a $100 dollar bill, and say "Happy birthday!" David knew he was not going to be around much longer. He had exactly enough money in the bank to pay for his funeral, with a few bucks left over. He had planned it perfectly.

Somehow I sensed something bad was going to happen, but when I talked to Mom about David's drinking, she would assure me he wasn't drinking as much as he used to. It was so typical of her to continue to live in denial, even when it was right in front of her face; but, as we all know too well, you cannot help someone who does not want help. And David clearly did not want help.

My relationship with my mom was still estranged, and we rarely talked. David turned forty-four on June 27, 2007. I talked to him the week before his birthday and we had a great conversation. We talked about the kids, his dog, Sadie, work, AA, church; we talked about anything and everything. Even though he was drunk, he was positive. I actually enjoyed our conversation. I told him I loved him and he said he loved me too. That was the last time I spoke to my brother.

On July 2, 2007, David went missing. He was nowhere to be found. My family scoured their property, called friends, searched his favorite fishing spots, but they never found him. As I prayed for his safety, I got the strongest feeling that David was dead. I knew he had a gun; he actually had Dad's old shotgun. The gun was also missing.

In the state of Florida, an adult must be missing for forty eight hours before filing a police report. On Friday, July 6, the police finally came and searched the property. They found David's lifeless body in the palmetto trees across the street from my parent's house. His body had lain there for four days! My sister was upset with herself for not thinking to search in the palmetto groves, but I was grateful that God spared my family from having to see David in that condition. He had ended his own life on July 2, 2007, the day he went missing. He killed himself the exact same way, with the exact same gun as our father ended his life thirty-four years earlier.

ULTIMATE FORGIVENESS

I made arrangements to fly down to Florida the next day. My plans were to get there, stay at a hotel, bury my brother, and fly back home as fast as I could. I was still blinded by the darkness of un-forgiveness. I was struggling with so many emotions it was hard to think straight. I was still angry with my mother because of her choice not to talk to me about my past, and now I was angry with my brother, too. He had broken my heart!

My husband encouraged me to stay with my mother and Stan, by reminding me that perhaps God wanted to use me to bring light into the darkness of this tragedy, but I absolutely refused. There was no way I was going to stay in that house, eat at that table, or sleep in that bed! I had worked hard to put boundaries in place, and I was not willing to tear down those walls. I had not stayed at their house for many years, and I had no desire to start now. God had other plans.

During the entire three-hour flight, God began to convict me of my attitude. He showed me, through prayer, that my parents needed my support and I needed to show them His love. By the time the plane touched down in Florida, I knew staying with my parents rather than getting a hotel room was the right thing to do. I wanted to be His light, and one way for me to show His love was by staying at their house. Even though I was putting myself in a vulnerable position, I was obedient to what I believed God was directing me to do. By the end of that visit, all our lives had changed forever!

God went to work the moment I walked into the door of my parents' home. As I spent time with them, making the final arrangements for my brother, I began to notice things I had not been able to see before. I realized Stan loved my brother very much and was in as much pain as any of us. Unknown to me, David and Stan had been extremely close friends. Wanting to show God's love, I prayed with my family; with God in the center as we held hands and prayed together for the first time in our lives. Our prayer brought the type of unity, strength, and peace that only God can bring.

That Sunday we went to church as a family for the first time. The church service was perfectly orchestrated by God. The pastor spoke on worshipping God in our brokenness. Little did he know our family needed this special message of hope more than ever. The choir sang songs we needed to hear and the pastor's message spoke directly to our hearts. The pastor prayed with us, which brought even more unity, courage and strength. Our family had been divided for so many years that when we came together, it was magical, and healing; another one of His miracles.

As we walked out of church that sunny Sunday morning, I saw Stan, sitting on a park bench all alone, crying; grieving for the loss of his best friend. I watched him for quite some time. I've never actually audibly heard God's voice, but as I watched Stan grieve, these words flooded my heart: "I love Stan just as much as I love you." At that moment I experienced what I believe Saul must have encountered in Acts 9 when the scales fell from his eyes. I had been blinded by the darkness of my own unforgiving heart for twenty-five years. I was blind-but now I see.

I was overwhelmed with forgiveness at that moment. I was filled to overflowing with God's love; so much it took my breath away and almost knocked me to my knees. Suddenly, I was seeing my step-dad, my abuser, as God saw him. The past no longer mattered; the pain and anger melted away and was completely and finally gone. All that was left in my heart was God's overwhelming love. It was as if He placed corrective glasses on my spiritual eyes and I was seeing everyone differently, starting with Stan. I no longer saw him through the lens of his past mistakes and sin. It was an incredible, life-defining moment I will never forget. My corrected vision was the beginning of my new life. God honored my obedience by breaking my chains of bondage. He inserted the key to the handcuffs of my unforgiving heart and I was finally free.

" _Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."_ Lamentations 3:22-23 NIV

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Chapter Twelve: AMAZING GRACE

"Amazing grace,  
How sweet the sound,  
That saved a wretch like me.  
I once was lost, but now I'm found;  
Was blind but now I see!"  
~John Newton

I love the song Amazing Grace . I always cry tears of joy when I think of the wonderful, miraculous change God led our family through. I once was lost, but now I'm found. I was blind, but now, I see. What a wonderful celebration! God gave me new eyes. God saved me from the darkness I had created when I chose not to forgive. He saved me from myself! How sweet the sound!

Years after my brother's death, God's miracles continued. Mom and Stan joined the church together. Stan was baptized later that year, and this time he "did it for Jesus". Praise the Lord! I never thought I would ever see the day when Stan would give his life to Jesus! But God IS the God of the universe and He CAN do anything!

Mom and Stan now saw me with new eyes. I always thought of myself as the "trouble maker" of the family, but now Mom and Stan looked at me approvingly. I guess they always did, but the scales that covered my unforgiving eyes caused me to be blind to their love. Rather than reminding me of the mistakes I had made growing up, Mom and Stan both accepted me as their daughter, and treated me as an adult.

One day I was talking to Mom on the phone, and out of the blue, she told me she was sorry for what I had gone through in my past. She said she wished things could have been different, and if she had it to do over again, she would have protected me. By freely speaking those unsolicited words, I no longer felt like that dirty old crumbled paper plate; she picked up this priceless piece of china, chips and all, dusted me off and placed me on display in the curio cabinet of her heart. What an amazing blessing she gave me that day.

" _You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury: 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also. If you are sued in court and your shirt is taken from you, give your coat, too. If a soldier demands that you carry his gear for a mile, carry it two miles. Give to those who ask, and don't turn away from those who want to borrow."_ Matthew 5:38-42 NLT

Les Miserable is one of my favorite plays. It teaches a lesson of forgiveness like no other, and it's an excellent example of living this scripture out loud. The lead character, Jean Valjean, is imprisoned for many years for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his hungry family. Upon his release, he is labeled a criminal and must meet his parole officer once a month. He finds shelter in a convent, where the Bishop gives him food and a warm place to lay his head. During the night, Valjean decides to take advantage of the Bishop's good nature; he steals the silver and runs away. Valjean is caught, brought back to the convent where the Bishop is asked to press charges. The Bishop lies to police, telling them that he did in fact give the silver to Valjean. He hands Valjean the candlesticks, and apologizes to Valjean for forgetting to put them in his bag also. The Bishop offers love and undeserving grace in hopes Valjean would change his ways. Valjean learns very quickly the lesson taught by the Bishop, changes his life and begins to offer grace to everyone who comes in his path. The characters who accept the grace offered are freed from their internal prison; the characters who cannot wrap their minds around grace perish. Valjean sings the final line of the play: "To love another person is to see the face of God."

As humans, we prefer revenge, and treat people the way they have treated us; an eye for an eye as the above scripture says. As Christians, it is our responsibility and privilege to act in a godly way at all times, especially when our hearts are injured. We should never purposely discredit or hurt anyone in any way, but instead, trust God and repay evil with good. Jesus is not saying to be passive, but he is telling us to avoid retaliation or revenge, that we should respond to evil by doing good, because, after all, the greatest commandment is to love; above all else. That doesn't mean we have to accept their behavior, but we are supposed to _"let love be our highest goal"._ 1 Corinthians 14:1 NLT

The saying "kill them with kindness" comes to mind when I read this verse. Fight evil with good. Love them anyway. I know loving someone who has hurt you is a radical idea, which goes against the worldview. We have been conditioned to want revenge when we are hurt. But Jesus was radical to the core. He taught love first, then forgiveness, then grace; and with God's help, we can learn to love our offenders.

Several years after David's suicide, Stan fell ill. Doctors ran a series of tests including CT scans which revealed multiple tumors throughout his brain and lungs. The tumors were malignant and inoperable. Doctors did think the tumors were arrest-able with chemo and radiation treatments, which could stop the growth and prolong his life; they gave him three months to one year to live. Three weeks after being diagnosed, Stan passed away.

Prior to Stan's passing, I invited him to contribute to this book. People need to hear how God delivered a man from evil; a modern day Saul, changing Stan's life for good. People need to see God's miracles. I implored Stan to finally do something good with his life, to leave a proud legacy that will help others heal. Because his mind was so pickled from all the years of alcohol abuse, his thinking was distorted. He didn't even realize that he was used as a pawn for evil. He asked Mom once, "Was I really that bad?" Stan declined to write. He died without leaving anything. Nothing; no legacy at all, and I was angry.

My niece, Ann, is a young adult, who was raised mostly by her mother. Her dad walked out on them when Ann was still in the womb. Her dad was not around for her birth, nor was he ever around for any of her childhood. Her father was full of broken promises and never available; Ann never learned of her own self worth that daughters only learn from their daddies. She was another generation of abandoned and rejected daughters...full of bitterness and anger for her father's absence in her life.

Ann lived with Mom and Stan the last few years of his life. Ann and her Grandpa had a great relationship. Stan had changed his life by this time, and had never hurt Ann. Her mom, Stella, told her enough information to keep her safe. She never knew evil Stan that Stella and I grew up with. Stan was very encouraging to her, and filled an empty hole in her heart that only a father figure could fill. Stan taught her many things, including how to change a tire, a car battery, and how to install a water pump to the main line leading into the house. Ann was the only person to which Stan ever apologized. Stan was the only positive male role model in her life, and I found myself dumbfounded by the irony that my abuser was my nieces only positive male presence. I realized that, to some extent, Stan was used by God to bless another.

How you finish your race is important; especially when you start your journey down a dark and destructive road. Stan found the main road again and was able to live the last few years of his life for the Lord. Even though Stan wasn't willing to leave a legacy by contributing to this book, God performed yet another miracle by using him to leave a legacy with his granddaughter, Ann. To love another person IS to see the face of God.

I've spend a lot of time conflicted on how I feel about Stan. A great deal of the time I still view him as the monster that destroys lives. After Stan's death, my head often spun out of control with a plethora of emotions, like a twister tearing through a Kansas town. Guilt, anger, frustration, and sadness were at the top of the list and I couldn't seem to get a handle on any one feeling for too long. I had prayed for his death for many years, and now that he is dead, I couldn't decide how to feel. But because of God's grace, my desire to love others and to be obedient to a forgiving Father far outweighed my desire to continue to hate my abuser.

God continued to prove to me He was in charge by placing on my heart to demonstrate His Miracle of Forgiveness; giving me the strength and courage to deliver Stan's eulogy. I couldn't imagine how I was going to stand before family and friends to give a loving tribute to the life of the man who had caused me so much pain. I prayed for days, hours at a time for God to help me, because I was incapable of delivering this message on my own. I wasn't going to stand before God and lie, but I couldn't not trample on the man's grave either. Finally, the words came to me and I started with the moment Stan met Jesus:

"I'm so grateful to know a God who loves us unconditionally, whether we come to know Him early or late in life, He meets us right where we are. He is a loving God who gives us mercy and grace. And when we meet His Son, Jesus Christ, EVERYTHING CHANGES. Our heart, our lives, our attitude, our minds, and our relationships all change. Our past no longer defines who we are. We can choose to walk in forgiveness, instead of carrying the baggage of our past around with us. When Stan met Jesus Christ in 2007, EVERYTHING CHANGED."

God gave my family the miraculous gift of forgiveness, and He can do the same for you. He wants everyone to live life to the full, free from the pain of un-forgiveness. If we allow Him to come into our lives He will transform us into a new person. He forgives us, and restores our souls so we can forgive our offenders. Seeing God in all his glory was an amazing, wonderful sight. If I had to forgive on my own, I would still be living in bondage. But when we choose in faith to forgive, we open the door for God to work in miraculous ways in our lives.

As we continue traveling our highway of life, we will always have to deal with the issues of our past; we are works in continual progress. But I pray you will chose with me to stay on the narrow road that leads to life, entering life's journey through the narrow end of the funnel, only for it to open up into the great and glorious place God has set out before us. We can trust in Him faithfully and obediently; as we discover together that God honors obedience with His Miracle of Forgiveness.

This is not the end. It is only the beginning.

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Thank you so much for reading my book. Whether your offense is big or small, the consequences of un-forgiveness is catastrophic. I pray this book offers you hope to begin a journey toward total, unapologetic, Jesus-like forgiveness. If you enjoyed the book, would you please take a moment and leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

Peace be with you~

Julia Charleston

Epilogue: THE OTHER MIRACLE

By Michael Charleston

Here's the thing, this story (Julia's story, His Miracles of Forgiveness) isn't only a journey of forgiveness. There was something big going on way before the scales fell from Julia's eyes. It's not just Julia's soul searching story of forgiveness. It's about generations of un-forgiveness; more specifically the generations of sexual abuse sustained by her family over several decades. It's a story about true transformation. One I was able to see with my very own eyes.

It starts in 1935. Julia's grandmother gave birth to her dad at the age of 13. It was well known, but never talked about, that he was conceived as a result of his mother being raped by her own father, Julia's great grandfather. Her dad grew up being hated and abused by his mother and later by all his brothers and sisters. Her father was a castoff, no better than the pigs out in back of the barn. He would be tormented by his mother every day of his life. He would never recover. On the other side, Julia's mother was also a victim of her own childhood sexual abuse tragedy. She learned at an early age how to keep her mouth shut and how to get along. She too was a castoff to the back of the barn. Later, Julia and her sister learned the same way and spent most of their lives following the all too familiar patterns. What they all had in common was two long lines of people coming into their lives, one to abuse them and the other to remind them that they were useless. Keep quiet, don't start any trouble, and certainly don't think too much.

We know from Julia's story that she spent the next 25 years of her life frozen in fear and tormented by her family heritage. When Julia and I first met we were both broken people in our own way. We spent the early years of our marriage in darkness. At times we had no clue why we were brought together, and we wouldn't know Christ for another 5 years. Julia was an incredible person but obviously had some sort of issues with confidence and self-worth. I noticed she would have a difficult time making the simplest decisions. She had to ask how and when to do just about everything. I had a hard time with this. She was trained her entire life to rely on someone to think for her and make all her decisions. I didn't want anything to do with thinking for someone else. I had a hard enough time thinking for myself. She was waiting for me to manipulate and control every aspect of her life. I didn't want that either and I couldn't convince her that life really didn't work that way. She was afraid of her ex-husband or most anybody for that matter. She never asked for anything, and she couldn't express herself very well. She certainly couldn't defend herself in an argument. This made it even more difficult for me because I couldn't even have a meaningful argument with her.

Somehow we stayed married and then we started having kids. Little by little I would get a glimpse of what Julia was to become, a glimpse of, as I would later begin to understand, God's work in her life, and mine for that matter.

Here's the amazing part. When Julia gave birth to our daughter something inside her told her that things needed to change. Julia, who was barely equipped with an ounce of energy, courage, or faith, somehow found some faith, summoned the energy, and mustered up some courage to stand up and begin a fight that would rage against anyone, absolutely anyone, that would come to harm her daughter. Over the next several years Julia's lack of confidence turned into conviction, her silence turned into strength, and her fear into determination. This generational sin was going to end with her. She was determined to stop the nightmare heritage before it got to her daughter no matter what it took.

To Julia, that behavior and that silence were over. Her daughter would not end up being a victim, the family chains and the family story needed to change, never to be repeated; never to reach the next generation.

Julia has been talking and teaching and fighting ever since. She has confronted everyone in her family; every victim, every known abuser. She has confronted the sin and the silence. She has unapologetically taken all the fly back, all the threats and all the rejection for one simple reason--to protect her daughter. Her lovely daughter; my lovely daughter who will, thank God, never wake-up in the middle of the night looking up at some strange man. She will never go through a single day feeling unsafe, unprotected or unloved. And because of her mother's courage, she will never have to be silent.

We now understand what changed in our lives about the time Cerra was born. It was Jesus Christ looking over us. He was taking care of us way before we even knew Him. I can't explain how impossible it seemed to me that Julia could become who she's become. There was no one more incapable or unprepared to defend, to stand up to, or to demand anything of the old Julia. As improbable as it seemed to me at the time, I now see Julia spending her days and nights speaking for those who can't yet be heard, standing up for those, that for now, are frozen in fear, and fighting the battle for those too weak to cry. She will continue to empower others and remain determined to end the sin that had viciously robbed her and her family for generations.

I pray that all women who need a voice would find courage to stand up and let someone know of their struggle. And for everyone that sees or hears a plea, that they would stand up with that person and change history. Scream from the tops of the mountains that our daughters have a voice. Shout that generational sin ends here and now. Tonight, no one in our homes goes to sleep without knowing they are safe, that they are protected and that they are loved.

I beg all women (and I speak for every father I know), we beg you all, protect our daughters. God be with you.

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Bibliography

Christianity Today, September, 2007  
The Wounded Heart, Dr. Dan B. Allender, revised edition 1995, NavPress,  
Learning To Trust Again, Christa J. Sands (Discovery House Publishers 1999) p. 49, p.61  
10 Key Signs Of Having An Addiction, Dr. Gary Stollman,Ph.D.,  
http://drphil.com/articles/article/685/  
Be A Stander, Bill Crowder, Our Daily Bread, RBCM, October 30, 2009  
Statistics Surrounding Childhood Sexual Abuse; www.darkness2light.org  
Left to Tell, Immaculée Ilibagiza; CBSNews.com/60Minutes, 1 July 07;UnitedHumanRights.org  
Five Things Everyone Should Know About Forgiving; Lewis Smedes 1921–2002, Program #4101 First air date October 5, 1997  
Murder by Family, Kent Whitaker, 2008 Howard Books  
Lifeway Church Magazine, Pat Robertson Interview  
Broken Heart from Crashings, Falling Up, BEC Recordings, Release date February 12, 2004  
Amazing Grace, John Newton, Published 1779  
The Unforgiven 3 from Death Magnetic; Metallica; Warner Brothers; Release date September 12, 2008  
Dog, The Bounty Hunter, Reality Show; A&E Network  
www.healthline.com/health/alcohol/effects-on-body  
www.betterworldheros.com  
www.wisdomquotes.com  
www.poetseers.org
Resources

www.childhelp.org  
National Child Abuse Hotline 1-800-4-A-CHILD.

www.rainn.org  
National Sexual Assault Hotline 1.800.656.HOPE(4673)

www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org  
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Alcoholics Anonymous  
www.aa.org

Overeaters Anonymous  
www.oa.org

Cocaine Anonymous  
www.ca.org

Celebrate Recovery  
www.celebraterecovery.com
Acknowledgments

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. I give You all the glory.

Jan Palmer, my editor, my friend, my second pair of eyes. You taught me how to write; you knew what I wanted to say every step of the way!

My sister, my best friend. You know me better than anyone else on the planet and I am honored to walk this journey called life with you.

The Georgia Charleston's...who God strategically placed in my life to help me along this journey.

Darren Holbrooks and Mary Sue Suggs who, because of a conversation about defining moments in our lives, caused me to take another look at the book, and who encouraged me to pursue publishing at all costs.

To all those who painstakingly read the unedited manuscript and gave me your feedback: Michael, (I love you); Christine (my BFF);Terry (thank you for forgiving me); Jo Moretta; MariBeth Poor; Kim Clement (Seed Company); Julie Morris (Guided By Him); Janis Traynor and Jenni Hodges.

Thank you Phil & Carrie, for introducing me to Jesus.

And finally, thank you to my first born son, who God has used multiple times in my life.

Because of you, I found strength to fight. Because of you, I know what it's like to love unconditionally. Because of you, I know what it's like to be loved. Because of you, I found courage to change. Because of you, I chased after my dream. Thank you for listening to that small still voice that has always dwelled inside your heart. I love you, son!
About The Author

Julia Charleston resides in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband, Mike, and three children. She is a precious daughter of God, a wife, a mother, friend, author, blogger, speaker, mentor, and whatever else God puts on her heart to be. She is passionate about God's Word and especially what He has to say about the many facets of forgiveness. As a victim survivor of childhood sexual abuse who spent decades in the chains of an unforgiving heart, she shares incredible insights on forgiveness.

Connect with Me:

Julia's Blog  
Julia's FaceBook  
Julia's LinkedIn Page  
Julia's Twitter

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