As I already have told you I was saved at age 5. By the age of 12, I was the substitute Sunday school teacher and by the age of 18 I was the church secretary. Somehow, I believed that God’s love of me depended on my ability to perform well and to gain the pleasure of all around me. I gave up my certain position as valedictorian by dropping my accelerated courses to please my father who thought a girl should be a secretary. Then, I married at 16 to please my mother who thought that being a wife was the only thing that could honor God and who daily had questioned me regarding whether my virtue was intact—which it was. I could tell you about how miserable I became, that I worked two jobs while finishing high school and how my voice stuttered so badly at times, it was hard to distinguish my words. I could tell you how my husband took the college money I saved and bought a motorcycle for him or how his uncle tried to rape me; but then that would only be excuses for what happened next. At the hospital there was a new respiratory therapist who noticed me. He was from California, Hispanic, and very intelligent. After months of saying no, I said yes and the affair began. I got pregnant and the weight of my sin fell upon me right before the town did. I wanted to do what was right—I asked for a divorce to marry the father of my child. Then within 24 hours the whole town knew of what I had done. The church called me and without even asking whether it was true told me I was not to return because I was a bad example. The director of nursing at the hospital called me in and said they would not allow such a scandal and I either got an illegal abortion or resign. I resigned. Alone, rejected, condemned, and despairing at age 18. I was certain, God must be angry too and that sorrowed me more than everyone else’s rejection. In the end, I did complete the divorce, marry and moved to Florida where my daughter was born. Then by the age of 22, I was divorced for the second time.
artwork used by permission of Ronald Barba © 2014—click on image for more information on obtaining.
How could God ever really love a failure like me? Perhaps, the church was right—maybe, I was never saved to begin with or had lost my salvation by my “rebellious” sin. Still, could it be that they were wrong? Deep in the very core of my being, I still felt His presence—a sustaining love that was hard to explain. Still, I loved Him, adored Him and wanted more than anything to know Him more. There was like a soft, whispering voice in the darkest night that said, “Child, I love you.”
It would take the remainder of my life until now to try to understand the mystery of God’s love or comprehend the truth that the scripture teaches both in the Psalms and in the works of Paul. In Christ, I am a Saint—declared as such before the foundations of the world were formed, chosen by God by His mighty works and not my own. That is one of the possessions that are mine in Christ.
Continue reading Power-filled Positive Thinking-Chapter 4A- Broken Winged Saint