Three years ago, my sister and I were faced with a horrific choice: to flee from a lifetime of abuse we could not longer survive; or to stay with our dad and allow him to destroy us both, as he'd destroyed our mother.
It was a choice I didn't want to make.
"Please, God, tell me what to do and I'll do it," I begged.
"No. He's your dad. I'm not going to tell you what to do. You have to choose."
That had been a key theme throughout my relationship with God. Again and again, He'd consistently given me back the ability to choose. When choice was repeatedly stripped away by human abusers, God was always different. He tenderly stooped down beside me, picked up and dusted off the precious things that had been trampled by people stronger than me, and once more affirmed my dignity, personhood, and choice.
This day was no different.
The ground rules:
God wouldn't tell me what to do. But I could ask Him any question I wanted, and He would answer. In other words, He wouldn't make the choice for me, but He would support my decision making.
I decided to fast and pray for three days.
The first question came on that first day.
"Would it be more godly for me to stay or to go?"
"Both decisions would be godly. You would be godly if you chose to stay. You would be godly if you chose to go."
No help there.
The fasting and praying continued.
Intense.
Earnest.
Dogged.
It wasn't until the end of the third day that I thought of the follow-up question.
"Will I be more godly in the future if I stay or if I go?"
"You will be more godly in the future if you go."
That made sense. I'd seen how emotionally and spiritually twisted up my mom had become. God had protected me from a lot of that twisting so far, but there was no guarantee this would continue.
With that, my course was set. This decision was no longer about running from my dad. It was about running to Jesus.
And that was something I didn't have to think twice about.
In honouring God, He saw fit to honour me.
Romans 8—my favourite chapter in the entire Bible—says:
If Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, yet the spirit is alive because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.
(Romans 8:10-11, NASB)
And over the past few years, I've been discovering the truth in these statements.
When I chose to run after Jesus, He introduced me to God the Father in a way I never had known Him before. For me, the term ‘father’ was simply too loaded to apply to God and still experience a sense of safety. But I felt safe with Jesus, whose love was unassailable, having suffered and died on the cross for my sins. Jesus had proven His care in an utterly sacrificial way that remained untainted by human sin and father-wounds.
Jesus said, "Anyone who has seen Me has seen the Father." [1] He was able to act as an intermediary between me and God the Father. The apostle Paul once wrote, "For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all people." [2] Christ became the mediator not only in the direction of me to God, interceding with God the Father on my behalf [3]; but also from God the Father to me, inviting me to approach the Father wrapped in a sense of safety in Christ, despite my father-wounds.
"For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again," God said to me, "but you have received a spirit of adoption as My child by which you can cry out, 'Abba! Father!'" [4]
"Daughter," Jesus continued, "your faith has made you well; go in peace and be healed of your affliction.” [5]
With my health trajectory over the years, I'd fully expected to be wheelchair-bound by the time I retired. But something amazing began to happen. The inflammation in my body began to die down:
- the Dry Eye Disease that closed my tear ducts (opthamologist: "I can't even run some of my normal tests because you have no tears in your eyes to test!");
- the Thoracic Outlet Syndrome that meant I couldn't drive or type, or read books without a special stand; and
- the back pain I'd struggled with since I was 24.
Within a couple months, I was in less pain than I had been in 18 years, and I was able to drive again!
Taken just after I drove for the first time in seven years
Soon I was able to carry my own purse, push a shopping cart, and sit on any couch or chair I pleased. Jesus' abundant blessings continued to roll in—in ways big and small.
As some of you know, last year, I experienced a shoulder dislocation. For several weeks, I went without wearing my back brace because it presses on my shoulders, and I didn't think it would be good for the dislocation.
Keep in mind: this was the custom back brace I'd been wearing for 4-6 hours daily ever since 2008. It strengthened my back muscles and kept the excruciating pain at bay. (When Peter and I were engaged, he would have to push me around in a wheelchair at the mall. That's how bad the pain was in 2004.)
Back in 2022, I stopped having to do daily physiotherapy exercises for my back, but the brace still remained necessary. After the shoulder dislocation (Dec 2024) I didn't experience any back pain when not wearing it. I treated this as God having mercy on me during my time of recovery, not letting two conflicting health problems land me in a world of pain.
My back brace
But then I started to notice something. Even after my shoulder was on its way to healing, my back wasn't acting up. It's now been about 4 months. I've been letting the sensations in my back dictate how often I wear my brace, but so far it's needed less than one day per week! (on average)
I never would have dared to try life without my back brace. But the dislocation prodded me to do something I wouldn't have normally considered.
Over the past three years, I've learned firsthand what it means for the resurrection power of Christ Jesus to give life to my mortal body through His Spirit who dwells in me.
Today, I invite you to experience this with me.
It's scary for me to write these things. I'm leery of reviving the gossiping tongues my dad enlisted to spread his lies about me. I cringe away from making myself a sideshow for the consumption of those who would treat my life and suffering as their next reality show—my own personal Colosseum of voyeurs enjoying the sight and smell of my emotional blood poured out for their entertainment.
But this morning I found a touchstone of courage when I realized:
This isn't about me or my family AT ALL.
This is about showcasing the resurrection power of Jesus Christ to all the world!
It's about saying, "Look! Look what Jehovah, the God of all the universe—look what He can do!"
It's about declaring, unashamed and unafraid, that Jesus Christ is WORTHY of all praise and glory, honour and power, majesty and worship.
It's about joyfully affirming to you that when you choose Jesus over everything else—over inheritance, over relationships, over belongings—when you choose Him and follow Him with your whole heart?
Nothing is impossible.
Not just that.
All things are possible.
What freedom and joy there are in His arms!
NOTES
[1] John 14:9, NIV.
[2] 1 Timothy 2:3–6, NIV.
[3] See Romans 8:34.
[4] Adaptation of Romans 8:15.
[5] Mark 5:34, NASB.
[6] Luke 1:37.
[7] Matthew 19:26.
