August 15 2016

A Day In The Life Of An Occult Survivor

occult survivor

It is Monday morning. The kids are out of school for the summer, so I do not have an alarm set. I open my eyes and it’s already after 8. I can barely see as I am so exhausted and don’t feel like I can pull myself out of bed. I have already slept 8 hours, but instead of feeling rested I feel like I have been beat up all night long. I close my eyes for just a moment and when I open them again it’s after 9. I jump out of bed, consumed with guilt because my two youngest sons will already be up. I drag myself down stairs to find them watching a show on the Roku.

They are not the least bit upset I slept in. For them it means more TV time. I grab my usual quart of water and sit on the couch with them. I stare mindlessly at the television. I hate every single show they opt to watch, because I can see how the occult leaks in to everything. It drives me crazy. Yet I know I can’t hide them from it, and frankly, I am already feeling like hell. I have no alternative to offer my children at this moment. I try not to spend time telling myself what a terrible mother I am and focus on surviving the day.

Monday is the day my new blog posts come out. By revelation of the Lord, I know the extreme attack that is coming at me as I walk in the call God has placed on my life. There are many groups of people that want me to stop this blog. I have astral rituals and witchcraft coming at me all day long. The fact that I was born into the occult does not help the attack, because it leaves me more susceptible to feeling it’s affects than others. You cannot just walk away from the occult and be free from it. They never stop coming after you, and because I know all their secrets, I am dangerous.

After I have my coffee I am still not feeling any better. My head feels like it is in a fog. I can’t think straight and my emotions are like a roller coaster. I sway from sad to angry to unhinged. Today I am feeling the effects of processing my reality. The reality that I grew up in the occult and was terribly abused, but was unable to remember until Jesus Christ showed me is a haunting fact. It is painful. It is unreal at times. It is horrifying. It is my life.

Many people cannot fully comprehend what an occult survivor goes through on a daily basis. They cannot fathom the spiritual aspects of the life that a survivor has to live through. Especially when your family is the one that brought you in to the occult, which is what happens in most cases. It can be extremely lonely. People are always well meaning, but the fact is the damage that runs through a soul broken by this level of abuse is incomprehensible. Even to me.

I remind myself I need to pray against witchcraft and try to connect with God. It is difficult because my brain feels like it’s been lost at sea. I am trying to navigate through a storm without a map or compass. I pray and pray and try to fend off the attack I was vulnerable too in the night, and try to find a center on God. On this particular day, it is nearly impossible. I love God with all my heart, but the enormity of the attack, combined with the overwhelming pain of my life, is more than I can bear at all. It’s like torment on my soul.

I am determined to make the best of my day though. I eat breakfast and get dressed so I can take the kids to an indoor playground. There is a cafe there, so I bring a coloring book with me. Doing things that can help engage my left brain are supposed to bring me out of a place of emotional trauma. There are many things in my life that are what are called trauma triggers. That is, something that reminds a person of the trauma from their past and causes an upheaval of emotional pain and torment.

Trauma triggers can happen anywhere and anytime. It can be as simple as seeing a cartoon  of Paul the Apostle chained in a dungeon. Before I know it I feel upset and unstable at a little innocent cartoon that should have nothing to do with causing me pain. But it does. Because at one time, that was me. It can also be something like almost running over a cat that ran out in the road. It should be a little upsetting at best, but for me it causes  me hyperventilate. Because for me, seeing death come to innocent life is very real.

At the playground the kids are having a blast. I am so thankful for the peace I have while coloring, even in a place filled with the noise of playing children. I am still not together though. I have been stumbling through the day and have made one mistake after another. Things like forgetting to pick up my son from his math tutor (I was only 15 minutes late thankfully!) or throwing away the cap to the creamer. It may seem like little things, but they happen all day long. A sign that my brain is not able to engage.

The microwave in the cafe frequently beeps in a surprisingly loud tone that startles me every time. I am so on edge already that the noise causes me to want to rise up and scream ‘shut up!’, but I am able to contain myself. The grace of God saves me in a lot of instances, but not always. Sometimes I am living in a place of emotional trauma, even though there is none obvious before me. And because of this I take it out of my loved ones. The part of me that is living in trauma cannot separate the past reality of abuse from my current reality, and I react to little things like my children talking back by screaming at them. It’s a survival instinct at that point.

When you spend years of your life with no control over what is being done to you, you begin to have control issues. Add in the fact that what is being done to you in heinous torture that I would not describe her, and you have the making of crazy really. I should be in a psychiatric hospital knowing what I know, but God is so good. He is helping me to live even in the midst of all this pain and helping me to find purpose in the trauma. I could be dealing with horrible flashbacks that send me into a corner crying, but God in His mercy protects me in so many ways.

After a few hours the kids are finally ready to leave. My 8 year old is very upset by some things that have happened, and I am able to calmly talk to him about it. I am not sure how much it actually helps him, but I feel the grace of God around me. I feel like it’s one small victory in a day full of failures. I feel so ashamed of the kind of mother I am, but I feel helpless to be the kind of mother I imagine I should be. It is actually a miracle that I even had children, because of the abuse that was done to me should have stripped that possibility from my life.

When we get home I know that either I talk to the person who helps me with my inner healing, or I completely loose my sanity and potentially hurt someone. I am so far emotionally gone that it scares me. Over the phone we talk and pray and I talk to the Lord about what is going on and what has caused such intense trauma in me. It turns out there has been a vicious spiritual attack reaming me since the night before. I do the work to release myself from the torment and immediately feel the pressure ease up. I take some ibuprofen for my pounding head and within an hour feel half way decent.

Spiritual attack is indeed the norm for most Christians, but when you have lived a life in the occult, you come to understand attack on a whole new level. The devil will always have his schemes, but for someone who has been inducted into darkness, the attack rarely lets up. It’s not just attack because you naturally have an enemy: it’s also attack because the devil has already had you in his camp and isn’t ready to just let you go. He wants you to believe you can never get away.

The devil is a liar, but there is also some truth to this threat. He is not going to stop coming after me just because I am gaining freedom from what he has done to me. He wants to stop me from doing exactly what I am doing: writing the simple truth about my life. Because through my life Jesus Christ has worked a miracle to bring me freedom. Where there was no hope, Jesus saw otherwise. The devil did a good job holding me captive for a long time. But I am an adult now, and can choose freely for myself.

Being an occult survivor means control. You have never had any control over your life. Others have had control over you, and have made sure to scar you to the point where you are to afraid to try to take much control for yourself. Instead you live out of what you know: and what you know is the occult and the trauma that is have bound you too. Yet Jesus sees past all that. He sees past someone fighting with witchcraft and hate and gives you the choice. Love. Love is something I have never really known until I met Jesus Christ. He is my salvation.

Every day is a struggle for me to balance who I am with who I was told I will always be. Between God’s truth and the devils lies that were planted in me. And every day I do my best to choose God, because I know He is the only one that has been there with me, through all the hard and painful times of my life. Whether I knew He was there or not, He was always there. Some days I am swallowed up in pain from the reality of my life, and some days I am able to find strength and joy in the midst of it.

Not matter what I will continue to walk down this healing path. Because with out it I have nothing. I can’t go back to what I had before: a life of pain and suffering for no apparent reason. Before I knew Jesus Christ, and before I started inner healing, my life was the same: I felt like hell, I had a hard time functioning, and I flew of the handle easily. I took it for granted that this was just normal life for so many years that it wasn’t until I met Jesus Christ that I realized this was definitely not normal.

hopeIf I stop now I can never expect to move forward in my life. I would be stuck in limbo: halfway into healing and never progressing. I want more of Jesus Christ in me and in my life. It is a constant battle, accepting the reality of my life, and trying my best to fight for my freedom daily. To believe that Jesus is near when I feel like I’m drowning, and to pursuing healing even though it opens up deep wounds.

Some people will never understand why I am doing inner healing, and some people will never understand the depths of the struggle my life is. No matter the cost I have found one thing to be true: Jesus Christ is worth it all. I am not whining or complaining about my life, but inviting you in with one simple goal; to bring you hope. If I can face my past, my fears, my pain, my trauma, and come out on the other side as the victor, than so can you.

My life is not exactly like yours, but it’s not quite so different either. The devil has a vendetta against us all. And we can continue to walk through life with our heads bowed down and make the best of what we have, or we can take the chance to look up and see the One who loves us more than we can ever dare to imagine. It is through that love that we will truly find our lives. Not the lives we think we have been handed or the lives we believe we have made; but the lives God has died and for for us to have.

Every life is worth living, no matter the struggle or the battle. It just comes down to one thing; will you love your life unto death, so that Jesus can bring you resurrection from it? It is a choice with great consequences, but even far greater rewards.

 

June 6 2016

Surrendering To Pain

painToday I feel like a outpatient that has just gone through major surgery. On the outside I may appear normal (although I am doubtful of that), but on the inside I have just gone under the microscope and had tumors removed from my soul by the hand of Jesus Christ. That may sound like a strange phenomena, but that is exactly what I go through, every week. Some weeks the surgery is fairly easy and I get out with a short recovery time. and little pain. Other weeks I need to be quiet and rest, letting the procedure take hold in the depths of who I am. Recovery takes longer because the pain was more intense.

What is this surgery you ask, and how can it possibly be good for me? Well these weekly procedures are what I like to call “inner healing“. I started my journey into inner healing last spring. It actually started with just a wonderful Biblical prayer counselor, but then that abruptly ended because God had bigger plans for my healing. The Biblical prayer counseling helped me to get an understanding of the anger I had been dealing with for my whole life. What I learned is that anger, as well as anxiety, fear, bitterness, depression, and other related feelings, are a secondary emotion to pain. Pain is the root of all feelings outside of the love and joy God has created us to have.

Pain is a sneaky little thing really. It always seems to hit you out of nowhere, blindsiding you and then leaving a mess in the wake of it. You are left looking around you wondering what happened and how did you end up on the floor? Most of the time when pain comes we are so unprepared we have no idea how to deal with it. It is a very messy and ugly feeling, and makes us feel powerless and ashamed of our weakness. Yet instead of reaching out to Jesus, the conqueror of death and hell, we usually shove that pain right back in where it came from, so we can just try to get back up and move on with life. What we don’t realize is that pain comes for a reason, and no matter how bad it feels, Jesus will still work it for our good, if we just allow Him to do so.

More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Romans 5:3-5

What really is the point of pain, you might ask. Pain is a place to meet the grace and love of God. It is a place where the enemy works very hard to get you, because he believes it is in that place he can destroy you. That is not the point of view God takes, however. God sees us in the midst of this pain, and He sees a sweet and beloved child who needs Him desperately. Yet when He begins to reach down to lend a hand out of the pit, we ignore it in favor of climbing out on our own. We need to feel self-sufficient and capable because the world tells us that we are worthless otherwise. Only the weak and pathetic sit in pain, the devil tells us. Wrong. It takes immense strength and resilience to sit in the pain and call on the name of Jesus to bring healing to it.

When I first started my inner healing sessions, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I was surrendering to God’s will, but I had no idea He was about to uncover a mass of memories that had been suppressed for my entire life. He started off small, letting me learn more about who I am in Christ. He also started to reveal places of pain that I was already aware of, yet had tried to suppress. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that difficult either. Really, I was just dipping my toes into tepid water at that point.

The real difficulty came just a couple of months in. The sessions always start of with prayer, and giving everything over to the will of the Holy Spirit to do what He knows needs to be done. Every person can handle what they can, and God knows what those things are. God had been building me up in strength for a very long time, I just had no idea. I had finally come to this place in time where the healing could begin. The funny thing is, healing never feels like healing. It feels like when you break a bone and it heals incorrectly, then it has to be broken again to heal correctly. Pain upon pain. Then you have the time it takes to wait for the complete healing and restoration of the bone. It takes time, patience and effort on your part to take care of yourself through the healing process. Sounds like a blast right? Of course not. But joy will still abound, when you rest in the faith of Jesus Christ.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Romans 15:13

When the memories come, they often come in slowly, one thing at a time. I am in a darkened room. It is a small room, with no windows. It is cold and lifeless and scary, lit by candles. There are three men in black robes, and my grandmother. I am chained to the wall. I am only about 2 years old. I am scared out of my mind. Why would my grandmother bring me to this awful place? At this point, I did not even know where I actually was, which was at the Mormon church. Over time I would be very familiar with this room.

The men are chanting. They are calling upon evil spirits, and channeling them. I am being molested by my own grandmother. It is terrifying to me. Yet it is not the first time she has molested me, I just don’t remember it at that time. The men are calling upon spirits of evil because they want to channel them into me. The sexual stimulation is for the purpose of filling me with fear and pain, so that I will be open to receive what they have to offer. I can see what is happening around me, yet I can hardly comprehend.

It was very hard to see this memory, as I had no idea, and I mean no idea, that I had ever experienced anything of this nature in my life. I am in shock as the Holy Spirit recalls it to my memory, piece by piece. Yet it is real. How can it be. How? Yet there is some hope in the memory. Before the man who has channeled the demon can summon it upon me, a strong gust of wind blows through the room. It is an impossible wind, in a room with no windows. Yet it blows so fiercely that the candles go out and the man is knocked to the ground. The demon spirit is chased away by the power of it. It was the Holy Spirit. The men are filled with fear, and my grandmother is enraged. The spirit is gone and will not come back this time, so the ritual must end. For now.

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

2 Timothy 4:6-7

The man scrambles off the floor as another relights the candles. I don’t understand what is happening, but I do know the presence of God when I feel it. I had already been in communication with God; already had talked with Him personally even at this tender young age. For some all this sounds impossible, and improbable. I wish it was. Yet in this world the devil has a foothold so deep that he has convinced us that he does not even exist. I am not alone in these experiences. There are many just like me. Yet they do not remember. They cannot remember. To remember without the Holy Spirit is virtually impossible, and to attempt to do so could send someone to insanity.

It is extremely dangerous to attempt to recover any memories of abuse without the help of God. He has to be the one to reveal them when He knows you are ready. Once He reveals them He shows you how they affected your beliefs and the way you see God and the world. He then removes the impact of what has been done to your soul through the moments He shows you. He brings you healing and begins to redeem what was bad, trading it for something good. This could never be done without God. The part He plays in this is vital and essential.

This was the first ritual I that I become aware of. It is like a horror movie has come true, and I am the star. Yet the fact that I feel it is unreal and a horror movie speaks volumes about what this experience has taught me. It has taught me that the world is evil, nowhere is safe, the devil has control, and more things of that nature. Yet I still hung on to the hope of God in that moment. I still clung to Him desperately. That would change eventually though, as they realized the power of God that was already inside of me.

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.

1 John 4:4

child-running-1082102_1920I do not think I am special. I do not think my experiences or abuse is worse than anyone else. Abuse in itself is traumatic and rips apart the fabric of your soul, no matter what the abuse is. It is evil in its nature, and it’s intent is to tear you down, so the devil can build you back up, just as he wants you to be. Weak, afraid, and susceptible to his viewpoints of life. That is why it is imperative to follow Jesus into the pain. The pain wants to control us and hold us down, but God wants to use it to teach us, to empower us, to strengthen us, and to build us in our identity in Christ. I have not wanted to know these bad things that have happened to me. Not once. They only get worse from here, every single time.

Yet I have continued for 9 months, and I have no idea when I’ll be done. Do I consider myself strong? Not by a long shot. But because I have trusted in God, even just a tiny bit, I have been willing to walk through this with Him. His mighty right hand has uplifted me, and strengthened me, just enough to get through each day. I have wanted to die. I have begged God to take me home, because I am done with this life. It has been harsh, cruel, and a living hell. But God says He wants me here, if I can just keep hanging on. He has promised to redeem it all, and give me something beautiful in return. I honestly have no idea how that is possible, but I have heard that nothing is impossible with God. So I chose to remind myself of that promise, even if it is hard to believe. So far He has been faithful and True to His word to me. So I keep fighting the good fight.

And you can too. I know you are not me, but you are here because you know you have pain and you know you are hiding from it. So I just want to give you encouraging words. If I can do this, I am most certain you can, because Jesus can. And if Jesus can, anyone who trusts in Him can. Do you trust Him, even just a tiny bit? Ok. Then my beautiful sweet friend, you can.

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.

1 Peter 4:12-13

May 16 2016

Mother’s Day Hell

mother's dayYesterday was Mother’s Day. Traditionally Mother’s Day is hell for me, and has been as far back as I would remember. Why? I could never tell you an exact reason, it’s just that everything seems to go wrong, and by the end of the day I end up feeling like a horrible mother who’s children doesn’t love them. Maybe I am not alone in this matter, but it certainly feels like I am. I see so many friends posting pictures of themselves with their mothers on Facebook, or talking about the wonderful day they had with their children. I see the neighbors driveways filled with cars and hear the laughter of their family get together waft through my bedroom window. All this as I lie in a cold stupor of pain and anguish.

Why would Mother’s Day be so terrible for me? Oh Mother’s Day, let me count the reasons in which I hate you. Let’s start with my non existent relationship with my own mother, including my entire family outside of my husband and children. The pain in not talking to my family alone is incredible. Add on the fact of the abuse that I have endured and the coldness I have received over an entire lifetime, and it becomes excruciating. But I digress.

The real problem with Mother’s Day is not just the pain I feel of having no relationship with my family or seeing other families everywhere I go that are happy. The real trauma comes from the pain and abuse of my childhood, and how it is affecting me to this day. I had grand plans for my Mother’s Day this year. I wanted to spend the day on a family outing. Somewhere outdoors and beautiful where we could feel the sunshine and have a picnic. I wanted to end the day taking the kids to a restaurant: a special treat for them. Yet this was not to be on this day. Instead I spent the better part of the day, locked in my room drowning in pain and despair. I was triggered early in the morning and went into a downward of my own private hell. The pain goes much deeper than anyone could ever realize. It goes all the way back to a little girl in a pretty little yellow dress with lace trim.

If my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will take me up.

Psalm 27:10

I am walking down a hallway that is only dimly lit. I have wandered away from the watchful eye of my grandmother because I want my mommy. I go to the only door in the hallway and quietly push it open. What I see in that room fills my whole being with terror. There is a room, a secret room, and it is filled with men in black robes and lit by candles. Towards the front center of the room is a table and there is a woman strapped down to the table. There is an audience in the room, seated in in the back part of the room. My stomach flips in circles as I watch. The woman is being sexually abused by 3 men. Other men are chanting and calling down the powers of gods. I see this all in a matter of seconds, before someone violently grabs my arm and yanks me away.

My grandmother scolds me severely for walking away from her as she quietly closes the door. My whole body is shaking with fright as I desperately try to push the images I just saw out of my mind. This was my first introduction into the secret world of the occult at the Mormon church. The woman on the table is my mother. This will be a pivotal moment for this poor little 2 year old girl.

I have never had a close relationship with my mother. She has always been emotionally distant. I was afraid of my grandmother, and longed only to please both of them. Yet I never seemed to be able too. I was always in trouble, always getting scolded for my behavior. I was never good enough, and I often felt ashamed of myself. As I grew, my self hatred also grew. As a little 2 year old girl I had already been subjected to sexual abuse at the hands of my grandmother. I had no idea what was happening in that room that day, but somehow I knew that was soon to be my fate.

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
    and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
    I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
    your walls are ever before me.

Isaiah 49:15-16

 

It is extremely difficult to write about these things and publicly print them. But the fact of the matter is this was not an isolated incident. This is a common occurrence, not just in the Mormon church, but in many churches and temples, Christians and non Christian alike. It is a secret society that is run by Satan himself, in order to indoctrinate the masses into holding allegiance for him, even though they have no idea. I was only able to recall this memory by the revelation of the Holy Spirit. I am thankful for this and all the other memories, because without them I would not be able to heal from this horror and abuse.

This was the first memory that was given to me by the Holy Spirit. It was difficult, but because the abuse wasn’t being done to me, I was still in denial that anything had happened to me. The Holy Spirit is always gentle and sensitive to a person and what they can handle. He is never pushy or violent. God is a caring and loving Father who wants nothing more than to heal us and bring us into freedom. For my whole life I have been in bondage to hell, and had no idea. Now I know the truth. And the truth has set me free.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,  because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

James 1:2-4

 

May 2 2016

Talking To God

jesus-with-childI have never been cool or popular. I have never had a lot of friends, or been the kind of girl that is the life of the party. I have always been shy and insecure. I have had body image problems: i.e. I think I am fat and ugly. I have been more afraid of people than not, and desperate to connect even in the midst of the fear. I have longed for real intimacy with another human being, not physical, but emotional. I have struggled endlessly to find myself in a world that constantly seems to tell me I’m nobody and not good enough. I have been in hiding, even when out in public, because I am terrified of being hurt, or worse, of being known. If I were to truly be known, then the depth of the pain inside me would come seeping out. And that surely would bring complete rejection upon me.

For those that know me, or follow me, these things may come as a surprise. I probably appear confident and put together. In some ways I am. I have come a long way. That girl that was hurt and scared is still here, but through the love of Christ I have come to find who I was created to be. Or at least, I am beginning to find that person. I actually think I am pretty now. Well, most of the time. Yet I still struggle with feeling fat. I am able to smile at people and look them in the eyes, whereas before that would have been impossible. But most of all, I am able to start to open up my heart a little to others. And it all started with God.

When I was very young, I could see the angels and talk to God. The angels would sing beautiful songs about the Lord to me. I talked to God on a regular basis, because I knew Him. I trusted Him. He was mine. I hadn’t been taught it was wrong; it was just normal to me. For a time anyway. When I was two I would regularly get spanked with a belt for disobedience. Once when I tried to tell my father I talked to God, he became extremely angry with me. Of course he didn’t believe me, and thought there was something wrong with me. If you have been taught that something is wrong or impossible, then you tend to believe it, and carry that belief with you. Well my father grew up in the Catholic church, and of course he believed that I could not talk to God. That was how he was raised.

For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.

Psalm 91:11

Yet I was just a little girl. All I knew was my experience, and that I loved my father and desperately wanted to make him happy. It’s a very small world through the eyes of a child. My father had also been raised being punished for insolence, which is what he considered this whole “talking to God” thing. So I was punished and reprimanded for it. That was the first time I began to doubt my gift and also to doubt God. Yet I did not stop. As a matter of fact, one of my favorite ways to pass the time was to sing. As a small child my song base was rather small, but I did know the songs of the angels. I would sing them to the Lord, in a soft and sweet little voice. It gave me comfort and joy, and helped me worship God, even then.

It was at a very tender young age of two that I also became indoctrinated into my first satanic ritual at the hands of those who I trusted most; my family. That was only the beginning. Once the elders at the Mormon church realized my gift to hear God, they immediately began to punish me for it. They absolutely could not have me talking to God, because this was not the one True God, as I believed. No. They would need to teach me about what was true and what was right, because I was very far away from that. Once my grandmother heard me singing one of the angel songs while I was playing at her house, and she flew into a fit of rage. She grabbed me by the arm and took me straight to the Mormon church so she could tell the elders.

If my father thought it insolent to talk to God, imagine how worshipers of Lucifer felt when one of their disciples was actually singing and worshiping God. It was beyond an outrage. I was given a chance to do the right thing. Bow down and worship the true god, Lucifer, god of light. I was filled with fear, but I had faith in God. He had always been there for me, at least so far. So I did kneel down, and bow, but to the God I knew; the Living God. The elders went mad with rage and beat me until I finally complied with their demands. It was not OK for me to sing these precious songs, because to them I was a traitor. To a little girl it made absolutely no sense. It was just a song.

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 18:3-4

These are just some of the memories I began to receive through the revelation of the Holy Spirit when I first began my inner healing.  These are not memories I could have recovered on my own, because they were so painful they had to be buried deep in the recesses of my mind. These memories were pivotal moments in the breaking down of my relationship with God, as well as the gift of discernment He had bestowed upon me. This gift is a very hated gift in the eyes of Lucifer. Anything that can be used to get closer to God and His love is disgusting and must be banished or ruined as far as possible. The gift of discernment is far too revealing to the natural world. It reveals the spiritual world in which God resides as well as the devil without his many disguises.

Many have asked why I would want these memories to ever be retrieved. Why bring up more pain and relive the past abuse. That is a very valid question. The reason is exactly what I wrote in the first two paragraphs of this post. The painfully shy girl who was desperate for love and acceptance but scared to death to actually get it, was a byproduct of this abuse. I was taken from an innocent little girl who loved God and knew Him, to a girl who was contaminated by pure evil for the purpose of being stolen away from God. And that is how I have lived the past 37 years of my life. It is not how I was created to live; not who I was created to be.

So I had a choice: continue to live as a shell of who I should be, or take a dangerous step into the unknown, and into pain, to find a miraculous healing at the end of it. It is not for the faint of heart I suppose, but I honestly don’t consider myself to be a special person to take this task on. I’m not particularly strong or courageous, but then again neither was Abraham. He was willing to leave everything he knew to go only God knew where out of trust. He was also willing to take his beloved son to be a sacrificial lamb without question when asked. Yet he was completely weak and full of faults. I think that is the beauty of it. It is not about being something special in order to walk into your pain and greatest fear. It’s about believing the promises God has given us in the Bible, that there is something much more that we were created for. Then it’s about being desperate enough to want it.

God will do this, for he is faithful to do what he says, and he has invited you into partnership with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

1 Corinthians 1:9

guardianangelsI know that everyone has their skeleton in the closet so to speak. My skeleton may be different than yours, but it is not better or worse. Every person has their burdens they must bear over the course of their life. Some are too excruciating to ever let out, and some we are able to tame enough so that we can believe they are not quite that bad. Whatever it is, it has still been left undealt with. And the longer you leave it hidden, the longer you leave it to fester and rot away in the inner most core of who you are. Like a sore that has never healed, it becomes more like a disease, that spreads throughout the entire being, corrupting as it goes. That is how I lived my life. And now I am done. I am on a journey to find freedom and healing, as long as it takes. Because Jesus is worth it. I do this for Him. Because knowing Him, all of Him (at least as much as humanly possible) and being with Him, far outweigh all the bad that I have ever had to deal with.

If you find yourself struggling internally; knowing there is something bubbling up inside and begging to be let out, or if you even only think there is that something but you aren’t quite sure; you are not alone. God, your Father, is right here with you. He has never left you alone, and He isn’t about to start right now. He wants to walk with you through this, just as He has from day 1 of your life. He has amazing plans in store for you. The question is not what, but when. When are you going to take that leap of faith and trust Him enough to surrender your heart and life and accept the healing and freedom He has for you? Today sounds like it may be a good day for that. 🙂

For you are God, O Sovereign Lord. Your words are truth, and you have promised these good things to your servant.

Samuel 7:28