Fossils on Display

I am going to share a story that God is especially fond of. Once upon a time, more than 50 years ago, a baby girl was born with a root of rejection firmly embedded in her soul. She had done nothing to warrant such a burden, yet there it was, a resilient presence as she entered the world. How could this be, you might wonder? Well, her birth mother, who had never known a man, was just 17 years old when she experienced a traumatic incident on a blind date… rape. Months later, while in college, she discovered she was pregnant from that horrifying night. Overwhelmed by fear, she chose to deny the reality, continuing life as if nothing had happened. However, by the sixth month, her growing baby bump could no longer be concealed, and her parents discovered the truth. An attempt to abort the baby was well-thought-out about, but the risk at six months was deemed too great for her. Consequently, the teenage mother was sent to a home for unwed mothers, where she stayed until giving birth to a baby girl. The baby was left at the home, and the mother returned to college. Only her parents were aware of the birth, and it was never spoken of again.

This baby, conceived in rape and rejected from the womb, was born into abandonment and neglect. Months later, she was adopted into a home far from ideal. Her father mirrored a tyrant and was an alcoholic. While her mother was kind and sweet, she was submissive to her husband. Beyond the family facade, hidden from outsiders, was a home plagued by unending mental and physical abuse. This little girl never felt safe, living her entire childhood walking on eggshells. And as if that weren’t enough, at just 4 years old, a family member initiated sexual abuse that persisted for nearly a decade. The family lacked love and affection; words of encouragement were nonexistent. Instead, there was an abundance of corporal punishment, verbal abuse, and negativity, fertilizing the root of rejection she was born with. As she grew, the toxicity of that root grew with her, sprouting like out-of-control crabgrass. She survived high school, experienced a tumultuous college life yet graduated still a virgin. However, soon after graduation, she, too, fell victim to date rape, mirroring the traumatic experience of her birth mother—a generational curse. Although it was a terrifying and humiliating encounter, she, as with all her traumas, buried it deep, adding more fertilizer to the root of rejection, concealing the evidence of pain with superficial topsoil. She had become a master landscaper.

As she journeyed through life, she responded to situations from that root of rejection, completely oblivious to its existence. She was becoming her father a functioning alcoholic but she had added marijuana to the mix. Recognizing the need for therapy, she started seeing a secular counselor who affirmed her childhood as horrific but considered her to be doing reasonably well all things considered. With this professional confirmation, she felt that she was going to be ok —this was her best self, and she accepted it. She continued this way until her 40’s.  Despite her internal struggles, she presented a facade of success with a thriving career, numerous friends, and a vibrant social life. Generous and always willing to help others, she desperately sought to fit in with those who seemed content and put-together. However, she was also at times manipulative and dishonest to get her way. Nobody knew the internal battles she faced daily. Seeking superficial affirmation became her solace, it was better than none after all. Despite being surrounded by people, she felt lost and alone. A good-hearted individual, she silently suffered from feelings of unworthiness, neglect, abandonment, and shame. Recognizing she had made poor choices and was not emotionally healthy, she often wrestled with a dark cloud of acedia. Unspoken shame was easily pushed aside, rejecting truth when masked by self-medicating through drugs and alcohol, a routine lasting nearly three decades. Somehow, amidst it all, she knew she wasn’t truly alone. Throughout her life, she intuited the presence of God, even though she didn’t grow up in a church. Unfamiliar with discipleship, she struggled to find a church where she fit in. For decades, she frequented various churches, searching for a home, yet everyone seemed to have it together, and she certainly did not. Despite partial truths learned from these visits, she grasped that Jesus forgave her sins. Grateful for forgiveness, she continued replenishing topsoil over the many roots that produced bad fruit.

In 2014, she walked into a church where the energy felt different, albeit strange. People were lifting their hands, dancing, speaking in tongues, yelling out during sermons; the pastor was exceptionally passionate. Although uncomfortable and odd to her, something drew her back week after week. As she continued attending, truth and love began penetrating the topsoil, uncovering what lay beneath. Shoveling dirt away revealed stones and roots, indicating she truly was not okay. Surrendering in worship, she found herself slowly digging deeper. In April 2016, a powerful sermon on forgiveness became a major turning point in her healing journey.

And that’s where that story ends.