8 Years Since I Testified

I almost forgot.

A couple of different years I was too busy nursing newborns and deprived of sleep to remember the anniversary of the day I testified against my perpetrator.

It’s not like I celebrate this date. But sometimes, like it did to me just days ago, it comes flooding back.

I have had three babies, all without medication of any sort and that day in court was still the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

I was overwhelmed by fear walking into the courtroom after the hearing had been postponed twice that same day. I felt a wave of panic when my abuser, chained at his wrists and ankles, was escorted into the courtroom directly in front of me. My boss showed up that day. I had only told her my story just one week prior. I was not in the habit of sharing that dreadful part of my past with others, at least not at that time. Two friends showed up, holding my hand and blocking my view. My husband of three weeks was like a strong oak, planted firm to hold me up.

The trial was unrelated to the crimes he committed against me and yet I was a key witness in the judgement that would be made on his life.

For EIGHT years my uncle abused me in literally every way a person can be abused. And EIGHT years ago, He was sentenced to ten years in prison with another five added the following year.

That day Jesus showed up through the people that surrounded me. Three years before that day, I had vowed to trust Jesus as my Savior believing that He is the Son of God, died for my sins, and defeated death through resurrection. However, because of my upbringing, because He told me over again that he was God and I was no one, my beliefs were greatly corrupted. My understanding of any religion was altered.

Believing Jesus was and is who He said was easy. But believing I was saved, I no longer had to live in shame, there was hope and healing, well, that wasn’t so easy.

But God is patient.

God didn’t give me up to my selfish thoughts. He didn’t let me go to my sinful choices. He pursued me. But what does that mean?

Over and over and over again, He worked through His people (other believers) to share His good news with me. He plucked me out of places where growth was absent and set me in places where my comfort was shaken. He used people to show His love, His goodness and even more, to explain to me what forgiveness and grace was.

I couldn’t earn my way into grace but it was offered freely. This is the same for everyone, no matter how far he/she is from Christ. Forgiveness wouldn’t make my pain go away and it didn’t mean that my pain was suddenly alright. Forgiveness meant that I trusted God with justice instead of trying to control everything on my own.

Forgiveness was possible because He forgave me and I had a lot to be forgiven for.

Eventually, I learned to pray for my abuser. I pray for his salvation. I pray that He would know Jesus because I want everyone to know the joy and hope that I found.

Eight years kind of snuck up on me. It’s hard for me to believe what God can do in just a short amount of time and yet a lifetime. Eight years has provided tremendous healing. Eight years has given me a stronger desire daily to share this story with others. Eight years has made me stronger. Eight years gave me the opportunity to speak to hundreds and hundreds of women over the years. Eight years gave God the opportunity to breathe new life into me.

It’s hard to see through to tomorrow when you’re standing in the storm, but have hope the sun will shine again. And when it does, it leaves a marvelous sight.

Photo by Loris Tissino on Unsplash