When powerlessness becomes powerful … That doesn’t even make sense until it does.
I didn’t want to write this blog post, like at all, but as I was reading through one of my journal entries, this letter to myself and to God just seemingly jumped right off the page. I quickly flipped the page because I didn’t want to go there. God turned it back and said, ” Go there !”
“Nope, you can’t make me, “I argued. And He didn’t. He never forces His ways on us. Instead He is gracious and ever so gentle with our childlike hearts. Curiosity got the best of me though. Maybe… I’ll just take a quick look at what appeared to be tear stained words that spread across a couple of pages. Then I just couldn’t stop reading this story about a little girl. I felt her pain. I saw her pain. I knew her pain.
SHE WAS ME.
He ever so gently whispered in my ear, “This is the one I want you to share dear one.” I immediately started crying . “Not THIS one,” I ardently argued back. We wrestled, God and I. I didn’t want to share that ugly part of my story. More accurately, I didn’t want to obey what He was asking me to do. So what did I do? Well, I attempted to negotiate with my God. Yup, that’s exactly what I did. Negotiate with the Creator of all things. I’m pretty sure He shook His head and just chuckled at my little girl antics. It appeared that He had folded His arms and I had won the argument at that moment because I wrote about something I wanted to write about. It seemed to work for the rest of the day anyway.
But now here here I am …making peace with God and an ugly part of my story I didn’t want to tell.
My past powerlessness.
Here’s the truth that’s been hidden and tucked away between the pages of my story told from the perspective of a impressionable and wounded little girl.
My dear friend and counselor recently suggested that I not only write a story to my little girl but about my little girl. What?!?! Why?! How?!?!
Isn’t Cherylanne Marie the cutest little love and so full of wonder in this picture?
Well, now I understand why my trusted counselor had me do this exercise but it sure wasn’t easy.
Being courageous never is.
It’s with raw emotions I share this blog post. It’s real and it leaves me feeling quite vulnerable as the reader of my own story. I feel both powerless and powerful. I pray my transparency allows you, my reader, to uncover the truth of your own story. So that, in turn ,you may become powerful in your powerlessness thus rewriting your story and reclaiming your true identity.
This is the story that unraveled as I wrote to and from my little girl .
~ Once upon a time there was a little girl who found herself powerless and very much alone. She knew she was powerless over her fathers seeming rage and abuse of her mother but didn’t understand her mothers verbal and emotional abuse that spewed out toward her .How could she ? She didn’t understand that it was from her mothers own pain, that her mother was hurting her and reacted out of her own pain, that her mother was so powerlessness herself and desperately needed to some sort of power.That little girl didn’t know any better but soon it became all to familiar. She didn’t know it wasn’t her fault. She was a child. She tried her best to fight her way out of feeling so powerless but to no avail. Powerlessness followed her like a puppy follows its master. It became her master and eventually ,became her.
SHE WAS ME. Operative word here, WAS…
The first time she recalled feeling powerless was after being molested around nine years old for the first time but not the last. And by someone she trusted. That gave way to being powerless no doubt. But honestly, it began way before that. That little girl fought her way into the world. Literally. Against all odds , she was born. She wasn’t expected to live but live she did. Born under such hardship, stress and brokenness there was always an underlying sense that she was beyond powerless in her little girl world.
The makings of a powerless little girl begins from, well, from the beginning.
That little girl had no control over what happened to her! She was innocent but shame took her name and took up resistance in her naive heart. It wasn’t even her shame ! It was the abusers but she didn’t know that and she took it as her own. She was already powerless. The soul wounds that gravely affected her at such a tender age were there to destroy her and all but destroy her they did.
They scarred her, yes. However those scars now serve as beautiful reminder of how being so powerless and broken can become beautifully whole and free. Just as God had originally intended for her to be from the beginning.
Her story of powerlessness continued for decades to come.
But wait. She even felt powerless with all her little friends.She did what she was told. She became quite the people pleaser. She followed the crowd. She was controlled by others opinions of her. She was manipulated into believing she was less than she was. She started experimenting with the likes of anything dark, destructive and dangerous to her true god given identity. Anything that might give her the attention she craved. Wanting to find her own power,she thought maybe she’d find it there. In conformity. If she could gain power over the darkened walls of her home life , surely she could then take control of what she hadn’t been able to before. She would then feel powerful.
Instead , she became even more powerless over her destructive choices leading her down a dark path of what appeared to her, to be powerful. She was desperately seeking control over anything and anyone who looked her way to gave her attention. In seeking for control she lost control time and again. She found herself becoming even more powerless.
Not knowing where she fit in, she attempted to find herself with the pretty girls but she knew they wouldn’t accept her because she was already powerless over the view of herself. She then went on to find herself with the less likely loved and downtrodden. Surely she could be powerful among them. Instead ,they gained power over her and she found herself leaning into their powerlessness and destructive lifestyles. That’s where she landed for the rest of her teen years.
In essence, rebellion appealed to her because then she would be powerful and someone would take notice. Someone will see her. Oh, they saw her alright. They saw her steal,they saw her arrested, they saw sneak out, they saw her run away, they saw her hitchhiking, they saw her experimenting with boys, sexual promiscuity and drugs.
All by the age of 13 no less.
By then she had left herself wide open to living a dangerously powerless life and decided to wield her power where she knew she could. Her sexual identity.
She kind of knew she was playing with fire but couldn’t put that flame out . It was all to familiar to her by then. She was powerless over her true identity. She had no idea how badly charred she’d become.
She began to use her powerlessness to gain what seemed like power. Let me say that again. She began to use her powerlessness to gain power. Boys became an object of her pervasive power. They assisted her in finding her misguided sexual identity.
There came a point that she KNEW she had that kind of power. She craved the powerful feeling and the attention she knew it would give her. She could use that to her benefit! She would finally be all powerful. At least in that arena and that was better than nothing.
She was wrong. Dead wrong. She was desperately seeking power but only found herself to be even more powerless over future choices and decisions.
Sadly, this pattern of powerlessness repeated itself throughout her story for nearly 60 years. Even though she had surrendered her life to The Lord 40+ years ago ,there were soul wounds from childhood that had had been deeply etched into her identity. Though she knew her identity was found in Christ alone, there was still the lingering of the old one. She knew all things were made “knew’ in Christ…She knew that in her head but her heart still believed parts of the old story. She knew she was supposed to walk in that newness of life and shared it with everyone who would listen but the truth is, she had never truly dealt with the soul wounds and brokenness of that little girl. She knew. So she hid it from others thinking she would be less than if they knew that part of her story. She had hidden part of herself from those she needed acceptance from until she could no longer hide it.
Truth. I can’t be truly free unless we expose the old me.
That’s when it gets real. That’s where He can come in, reveal ,deal and then heal. Most people don’t dare go there though.
” We all experience times of testing, which is normal for every human being. BUT God will be faithful to you.He will screen and filter the severity, nature and timing of every test or trial you face so that you can bear it. And each test is an opportunity to trust Him more. For along with everything trial God has provided for you a way of escape that will bring you out if it VICTORIOUSLY!” (1 Cor.10:13 )
Until God , The Rescuer and Redeemer, Redeemed my story.
Until God, with guided help of a trusted inner healing counselor, allowed His little girl, me ,to face herself, forgive herself, free herself, embrace herself and live as herself, within her rightful identity .
Which has finally become,me.
Finally, the grown up girl within me has been able to love and integrate with parts of that powerless little girl that she had so fervently rejected as unlovable, powerless, shameful and as a useless throwaway. She is no more.
This is the new girl on the block. The new creature in Christ. She is me.
If He can do it for me, I KNOW He can and will do it for you my friends. Don’t discount your journey thus far.
God desires to change the narrative that the worlds way has deceptivley placed within your powerless heart! Isn’t it time to hand over your powerless power to The One who is all powerful.
Those who choose to do so become healthy and whole and will be instruments of healing for others. I know.
I am now one of them.
Much love from my healed heart to yours,