Editor's note: Enjoy today's devotion from Radically Restored by Stephen McWhirter.
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For everything that is hidden will eventually be brought into the open, and every secret will be brought to light. — Mark 4:22 NLT
Even That?
I believe God heals and He still does miracles. I believe because I follow the same Jesus who
cast out the evil spirits with a simple command, and He healed all the sick. — Matthew 8:16 NLT
But what about deep wounds left by trauma? And what if those wounds are caused by a parent or a spouse, someone we should have been able to trust, someone who should have been a safe place? We all know those wounds go so much deeper.
When asked whether God can heal emotional trauma, Christians might give the knee-jerk church answer, something like, “Yes, and won’t He do it!” We want to assure others — and maybe ourselves — that we’re saved and believe without doubts. We tend to avoid asking difficult questions because, as Christians, we’re not sure it’s allowed.
My perspective is that honest faith does ask questions, but it doesn’t question who God says He is.
That might sound contradictory, but it’s not. God wants authenticity, but at the same time we must trust Him even when we’re in painful experiences. When we’re authentic and trust, God reveals the chains that bind us so we can lay them at the foot of the cross and walk away in freedom.
That’s easier said than done. Especially if those chains were put there by people we once considered safe, or by a parent or spouse whom we should have been able to trust.
My father was an extremely broken man. As we traveled from church camps to revivals, I watched him preach hundreds of times and lead many to Jesus. I associated everything I knew about Jesus, the Bible, and God with my dad. The abuse I watched him inflict on my mother seared into me the instinct to always run in the opposite direction. If he followed Jesus, I would have nothing to do with Jesus. Since my dad wasn’t good, I assumed God was the same kind of father. I saw both of them through the broken lens of my pain.
My fear and anger boiled in my dad’s presence and at the very thought of God. My dad was all the evidence I needed that God couldn’t be truly good. Unresolved trauma became my prison. I didn’t know how to be set free.
Keeping the secret of Dad’s abuse was our number-one rule as a family. No one could ever know. On many occasions, my father beat my mother so badly she had bruises down her spine, arms, and neck. Although she did her best to conceal them, sometimes she ended up with a bruise that couldn’t be easily hidden. I remember a time when someone at a camp meeting asked my mom about her black eye. I was young, barely tall enough to come up to her elbow, and I was overcome by dread. Would our family secret be exposed?
Before my mom could reply, my dad jumped in: “She fell in the shower.”
As I heard those words, my whole body trembled with disbelief and anger. Watching my father tell a cowardly lie to protect his image, and my mom sheepishly pretend to be a dumb wife who fell in the shower, was unbearable to witness. I remember catching my sister’s glance, seeing the same emotions on her face. At such a young age, I didn’t know how to process any of it.
The hardest part is that even after the physical abuse stopped, my father never addressed what happened. In my childhood, his presence was massive and terrorizing, but throughout my teens and early twenties, he was there, but not really there. In the movie of our lives, he became less of a monster and more of an extra who blended into the background. His absence from my life in those years was a new and different kind of wound.
I wonder if my father’s detachment was because he believed, after all he’d done, he no longer had the right to be my father. Maybe he didn’t talk about the past abuse or make amends because he’d have to own what happened. He’d have to drag it out of the shadows into the light. I imagine an abusive parent or spouse creates a new narrative in their mind, trying to erase the trauma they’ve caused. They construct a false reality, a self-¬ protective bubble. Subconsciously, they might believe that if they acknowledged what they did, it would bring everything crashing down. I don’t know the answer for my dad; I only know he pretended it never happened.
But it did happen.
And at some point, for my father and for the rest of us, everything we try to hide will be laid bare. Jesus said,
For everything that is hidden will eventually be brought into the open, and every secret will be brought to light. — Mark 4:22 NLT
Everything — even the things we want to keep hidden in the dark — will be brought into the light.
That might sound scary, but it doesn’t have to be. When we willingly bring those hidden things into the light to confess, repent, and make amends, they start to lose their power. Unfortunately, my dad could never bring himself to face what he had done. I believe this kept him imprisoned by guilt and shame.
If you relate, please know Jesus loves you and is fighting to set you free and heal every broken piece of you. This promise isn’t just for sons and daughters who have been hurt. It’s also for the father, mother, spouse, or anyone who has harmed others.
Jesus doesn’t just heal and restore the bad things that happened to us. He also mends the unthinkable things we may have done to others. When we feel chained to guilt and shame, real healing and freedom await on the other side of a little something called repentance.
Excerpted with permission from Radically Restored by Stephen McWhirter, copyright Stephen McWhirter.
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Your Turn
If you relate to Stephen’s story in any way, you’re not alone and, most importantly, you are deeply loved by God. He’s in the restoration business and He wants to mend the unthinkable things done to us and the unthinkable things we’ve done to others. ~ Devotionals Daily