Blessed to be Broken

God's not finished with me yet!

He’s In The Scribbles

As a child, I grew up in a tumultuous household fueled by addiction. Years later, I know there’s still healing to be done. Could God take the pain away all at once? Absolutely! But, I believe He wants to take His time and show me where He was at that time of emotional abuse and chaos when I am most able and ready to handle it.

A heart that’s hardened cannot receive what God wants to do. It’s too clogged up with all the unanswered questions. Why me? Why did you put me in such a dysfunctional family?  Why did you allow them to abuse us? Didn’t you know how it would affect us? And by us, I mean my brothers and me. But, I believe these are the wrong questions.

In asking those type questions, I take away from who God says He is. Let me show you what I mean. I ask the question “Why did you allow them to abuse us?” God didn’t put the alcohol and pills in their hands. They chose it. The effects of that choice made them less of who God created them to be. It made them a substance abuse version of themselves. That did not come from God. Genesis 1:27 says:

“So God created man in his own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.”

You see, God didn’t create alcoholics, we choose it. His Word doesn’t say, so God created them to be addicts. In a sinful world, when we turn to things we believe will comfort us, and we overindulge, they can do just the opposite. They will consume us and devour the very person we wish we were.

Today a childhood memory came back full force. There were many times when it was just my dad and me in a room. But this memory was about the times we’d sit across the kitchen table from one another. He was doing what he did best, telling me all the things I wasn’t. And I did what I did to “escape.” I scribbled.

I scribbled so that I wouldn’t have to look at him or really listen to what he had to say. I scribbled so he wouldn’t see the venom in my eyes. I scribbled so I wouldn’t scream. I scribbled to hold myself together. I scribbled to tune out the ugly lies being spoken over my life. It was one of my coping mechanisms.

IMG_1861

Example of my scribbles

As my dad watched me scribble he would eventually tell me he wanted to take my scribblings to a psychologist to see what was wrong with me. To see what they had to say about me. Rather funny, don’t you think? He wanted to know what was wrong with me? He pushed his abuse on me and wanted to know what was wrong with me. I do believe he was asking the wrong question. Ha!

But you know what? I was not alone with my dad in that room. Jesus was there. He was in the scribblings. I didn’t know that back then. I couldn’t see Jesus because all I could see was the dysfunction. It’s what I knew, it’s what I saw, and it’s what was tangible in my life.

I didn’t know for most of my life that I could have a profoundly deep personal relationship with Jesus. I thought He placed me in this mess of a “family” because it’s what I deserved. And that’s so far from the truth.

It’s not what I deserved, but because of my parent’s choices, it’s what I got. But how do I know Jesus was with me in that mess? Because Deuteronomy 31:6 says:

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

That tells me that when I was with my dad, Jesus was there too, because He never leaves me. In those moments of being emotionally abused, I was strong and courageous the only way I knew to be, in my scribblings.

And I’ll end on this, my scribblings may not have made any sense to my earthly father, but to my Heavenly Father, they made perfect sense.

Thank you, Jesus, for being in the details and for showing up in ways I could never imagine. Today is a new day, full of Your mercies and great grace. May I live to bring You honor and glory all the days of my life ~ Love, Trish

 

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