Introduction: Raindrops On My Window Sill
In years past, waking up to raindrops on the roof of our house was quickly followed by feelings of freshness and purity. It was almost like the rain had washed everything away and was now giving the world permission to start over. A new day with new life being watered and cared for. Sometimes I would lie in bed for hours after waking and remember all the things in my life that the Lord had freed me from. All the things He had washed away from my life and had allowed me to start over with. Clean. Fresh. Forgiven.
When I would finally get enough motivation to get out of bed, I would glance outside the window to see nature, not cowering or shriveling from the weight of the falling water, but rather blooming greener and brighter than ever. How does that work, I would wonder. When it rains, most creatures and humans run for cover in order to get away from the cold wet surroundings. However the grass, the trees, and flowers do not. Instead they open up all the more as if they are soaking up every bit of every drop that so graces them with its existence. It is as if they welcome the storms, despite the possible dangers it presents to them. There is no fear in their being, but rather full release to bloom even brighter amidst the pouring rain.
There is an age-old debate among the psychological world as to whether a human being becomes who he or she is based strictly on their genetic makeup and DNA or whether it is the environment he or she is raised in and/or exposed to. It is called the Nature vs. Nurture Debate. Though I am not a well studied scientist by any means, the more people I get to know and the more I analyze their character based on what I know about their childhood, their family, their home-life, their friends, and so on, the more I am coming to believe that we are who we are based, not strictly but predominantly, on the latter option of the argument.
Example number one: Me. At the age of four, some may say that the innocent path of my life was redirected by the misguidance and selfishness of another. Yet 18 years later, I have defeated the norms of this redirection. But it would be folly to claim this victory as a result of self-confidence, self-determination, and self-ambition to be a survivor. Though determination and confidence are vital ingredients, the healing is coming solely through the work and power of Jesus Christ. My redeemer. My Saviour. My healer. My God.
From the blood of one sinner, came another sinner. Me. And from my womb will come another sinner. [Hopefully a few of them]. My children. And the cycle of brokenness and disparity will inevitably continue because of justice. But when I hand the control of my life over to Jesus Christ, He strips me of all guilty verdicts and floods my life with healing and hope. And should anyone else so desire to do the same, the same grace will be bestowed upon you. This is the message I wish to develop with you on this journey.
This is a message of hope for healing and revival.
Though my story deals with the issue of sexual abuse, I believe the principles within these pages, taken from the truths of God’s Word, are applicable to wounds of all kinds [ie. physical abuse, emotional abuse, loss, grief, guilt and shame, etc]. You are not sure what the next step is. You know what you feel and you know that the pain is becoming too much to bear. You know you have fears, anxieties, and regrets. You are confused. I was too.
But if you are reading this book because you are in a state of search for something or someone to give you a “How-To” plan or a solution to your pain and hurting, the following pages will not suffice. You may be gravely disappointed because they are not intended to. They are intended to guide you to a place of brokenness, humility, and desperation for something so far outside of yourself. We cannot heal our own brokenness. There must something more.