Something huge happened in my life on Christmas Day. I shared with some of my closest family and friends, but wasn’t sure whether I wanted to blog about it or not. Yesterday, I decided it was the thing to do. This post was written on December 27, 2011. 

Every Christmas I receive gifts from family and friends. I love to give gifts as well. This year I made the trip back to my hometown to spend time with my family. I expected it to be just like every other year – dinner, the gift exchange, then games and poker with a mixture of laughter. That all happened of course, but so did something else. Something that I am processing as I write this out. It was an amazing gift given to me, but even better than that, there was a gift I was able to give.

For those of you who don’t know, I was sexually molested as a child. Over the last few years I have processed through the struggles of my childhood and pushed through the pain of dealing with the memories. Most importantly, though, I have forgiven those who have hurt me. I don’t know if it happens with everyone, but I’m guessing there comes a time when God puts us to the test to see whether we really do what we say we will. My forgiveness was put to the test this holiday visit.

As I sat around visiting with some relatives on Christmas Eve, they invited me to church the next morning. Usually I would jump on the opportunity to go, but there was a pain in my stomach that took my breath away when the invite came. I knew one of my abusers attended church there.
I had been told last year that he was now attending church and had given his life to Christ. I celebrated the fact that he was seeking a relationship with our Savior and that he was a brother in Christ. I knew at that moment I had truly forgiven him, because there was no bitterness. I could be happy for him from three hours away, no problem. But the reality of knowing I could possibly be in the same building with him was an entirely different story.
On the drive back to where I was staying I silently talked to God about what to do. His gentle whisper asked, “Have you forgiven him?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Then what else is there to think about?”
That wasn’t the answer I was looking for. I wanted some type of justification. Some reason I wouldn’t have to go. Nothing. I lie in bed and thought perhaps I could find some answer in God’s Word giving me an excuse not to go. Nope.
Instead He led me to Psalm 18 where He assured me that He was my rock, my fortress and deliverer. He promised that He was my stronghold and would protect me from my enemies. He said with His strength I could take down armies and scale any wall. He rescued me because He delighted in me. He turned my darkness into light. His right hand would sustain me.
He didn’t give me one reason not to go. There wasn’t one crack of justification to slip through. Only His promises. I went to sleep resting in the comfort that I could scale a wall with His strength.
I woke up Christmas morning and whispered through sleepy eyes, “Happy Birthday Jesus.” I knew what I had to do. I would go to church and I would face my fears. I was ready to scale any wall.
I walked through the doors and headed straight to the familiarity of my overprotective cousin Jonathan and his family. I didn’t pass Go. I didn’t collect $200. If I could just sit there and make it through I would be ok. I tried to push the nerves in my stomach jumping around back by laughing with the kids, but it only worked for a second.
As the band began to play I took a look around to see if he was there. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. I let out a sigh of relief and tried to hold back the tears. Obedience. God wanted to see if I would be obedient and come. This wasn’t about me, it was about God. I closed my eyes and whispered again, “Happy Birthday Jesus.”
I usually don’t write posts this long, but didn’t think I should cut anything out. Stay tuned tomorrow for the wrap up.