I’m a Pastor’s daughter, and I asked Jesus to be my Savior when I was nine. As a child I loved attending church, singing in the choir and being part of my youth group. I even went on a mission trip at fourteen. There were many times in my family when chaos ruled and no one wanted to go to church so I’d hop on my bicycle in my Sunday dress and sandals and go alone. My parents are good people. My mother became a Christian when she was a teenager and helped lead her parents to the Lord. Her parents turned out to be two of the godliest examples in my life. My daddy was raised by a wonderful woman. She took him to church and raised him the best she could although she was married to a violent man. Daddy joined the Navy at seventeen and served our country before his call into ministry. Throughout childhood, I learned valuable things from my parents. Daddy’s generosity is legendary. He often picked up hitchhikers and they’d leave his car with the gospel and my daddy’s coat. He’s a prayer warrior. I saw him on his knees countless times throughout childhood. I know his faithful prayers for ten years are what brought deliverance from God for me.
My mother taught me perseverance; to hang in and not give up. I watched her do it for years. Mother said Daddy was either the best husband and father in the world or the worst nightmare. He was a rageaholic, totally controlled by his inability to manage his anger. When he would lose his temper, he’d become verbally and physically abusive to my mother, my sisters and me. One name I remember being called often was “the devil’s prostitute.” WORDS HAVE POWER! Mother was usually discouraged and depressed. There wasn’t much physical affection, either between my parents or toward us girls. I remember hearing the words “I love you” only a few times in my life. One of those is a vivid memory. I was fifteen, and lying in a hospital bed after I’d attempted suicide with two bottles of pills. Thankfully God had other plans for me.
Compounding these serious family problems was the abuse I suffered at school. I was a very gangly girl, extremely tall for my age with a long crooked nose, and terribly thin. Through most of my formative years, I was berated with names like bean pole, telephone pole, ski slope and witches nose. I became interested in boys at a young age. Mother called me a “boy chaser.” In reality I was a love chaser. I was desperately seeking love and affection. Boys took advantage of that weakness. I became pregnant at fifteen after having sex for the first time and was abandoned by the father of my baby. My parents supported me and helped to raise my daughter, so I could graduate, but I made a serious turn at that point. I’d begged God for years to change my messed up family. I knew He could. I knew He was all powerful, but He wasn’t changing anything.
There was also my church family. They weren’t blatantly ugly, but I remember the looks of disdain and whispers as I walked by. The message came through loud and clear. I was the scarlet girl and had been demoted from the preacher’s kid on the front row to the prodigal on the back pew. I was mad, and I blamed God. My understanding of God was immature. I’d not studied the Word or lived enough to really know Him. I’d heard all about His wrath, justice and holiness but little of His love, grace and mercy. I only saw Him as I saw people, hard to please and angry with me. I remember saying, “OK God, if this is what you have to offer, I don’t need you.” At that point I chose the path of a prodigal.
At eighteen my daughter and I moved to Florida where I had friends. They invited me to a gay bar for the first time. Although apprehensive, I was more curious so I went. The experience was “surreal” and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. One of the things that drew me in was how totally accepted I felt. I didn’t feel judged for my past and people were interested in me. In a short time, they began to feel like my family. It also wasn’t long before I was pursued by a woman. I’d never had that kind of attention before. I don’t know how else to explain it other than, I just fell. That’s how sin is, a deep dark pit that we fall into when we walk too close to the edge of it. It wasn’t about sex. I was desperately seeking love, affection and acceptance and buying satan’s lie about how to attain it.
After moving home to Hendersonville, I found in Asheville a large gay community. I became entrenched in it quickly and before long they felt like family. Soon after, I met and began a relationship with a woman. She and I lived and raised my daughter together for eight years. I felt what I thought was love. It sure was powerful. It had such a grip on me but during the last few years my discontent grew. I was like a drug addict, but the drug wasn’t as effective. I’d tried everything (drugs, alcohol, people, places and things) but I was still in pain. I remember lying on my couch late one night. I was crying and staring at the ceiling. I said out loud “I know this is wrong, but I love her and I can’t leave. Please God,” I begged, “change my feelings so I can leave.” I can hear His response as plain today as that night. He said, “Leave and I’ll change your feelings.” That was not the answer I was seeking.
It was another two years before I left. During this time I’d lost my job and was sacked out on the couch eating chocolate, Cheetos, and watching Oprah. She interviewed an author. (I later discovered the author was a leader in the new age movement.) Shortly thereafter, I read her book. I kept reading the name Jesus in it. They do talk about Jesus but not truthfully. It didn’t matter because every time I read His name it pricked my heart. Our great God can even use Oprah Winfrey and a new age author to reach His wayward child. Not much later my daughter was having her 10th birthday party. Some of the girls had made fun of her for having two moms. Believe it or not it was the first time I realized how my choices were hurting my child. It was as if the blinders had come off and I could finally see. It also occurred to me she might not be a Christian. I’d not taken her to church or taught her the truth. I made plans to visit a church. My girlfriend stayed home cooking dinner while we attended services. Interestingly, just a few weeks earlier, someone had invited me to church. I remembered they said it was a great place for kids. Never underestimate the power of inviting someone to church.
We went to a large Baptist church that Sunday, and it was the warmest, friendliest place I’d ever been. They didn’t have fake smiles. They exuded the joy of the Lord. Within a few minutes of arriving, people were hugging us. We were strangers and they treated us like long lost relatives returning home. The music was vibrant and moving. They were singing praise and worship songs. I’d never heard those before. These folks were worshipping uninhibited and unashamed. It was something else. That well within me began to be filled. Tears streamed down my face. I knew what I would do. Then through the pastor, the God of the Universe spoke directly to me that day. At the end of the service, I ran down the aisle and asked Jesus to be the Lord of my life. It wasn’t “surreal” it was SO REAL. I knew what other decision I was making. There was no way I could stay in the sinful relationship. In that moment, the love I experienced from HIM overshadowed all other love, even my love for her.
After that church service, my girlfriend and I spent the next three days crying together. She tried to talk me out of leaving. I tried to witness to her, but she couldn’t hear me through her own pain. She eventually gave up and left. It was very hard. She’d been my best friend for eight years.
That was sixteen years ago. God and I have been on an amazing journey since. I’ve had a lot of healing and many “roots to dig up” in my life. In that time however, God has blessed me with a husband, with whom I’ve experienced true covenant love. He’s blessed me with three wonderful sons and a few years ago with a gorgeous granddaughter, from my lovely Christian daughter. I attend a church with a body of believers who love Jesus and they love me and my family. They are our forever family and yes they know all about my past. The Christian Counselor at my church has no idea how much her words of encouragement conveyed her love and what healing they brought when she called me a prodigy. WORDS HAVE POWER. I don’t feel like a prodigy, but I KNOW I’m not the devil’s prostitute, nor am I a prodigal anymore. I’m a better P word today…My Heavenly Father calls me HIS Princess. I’m starting to believe it! I’ve been told that I might even be a Warrior Princess. HIS WORDS HAVE POWER!!
