One of the
most life-affecting characteristics of my fifty-plus years has been the impact
of childhood sexual abuse on women. It has affected me more than I would ever
have asked. It has broken my heart. It has crushed my soul. It has shocked me,
angered me, and made me feel pain in a way I could not remember feeling it
before.
And now, the
religious sexual abusers (the worst kind it seems) who capture women and force
them into sexual slavery, bring to mind, and soul, the thoughts and feelings of
a man’s heart on the edge of a woman’s world.
I began as a
true Ignorant. I was ignorant of the reality of such abuse, the extent of such
abuse, the effect of the trauma of such abuse, and the application of God’s
love, hope, and healing to such abuse. I discovered that my understanding of
how the good news of Jesus Christ could apply to such things was like a
preschool coloring paper. I could make a pretty decent picture, for my age, but
it was just that, a picture; colored wax on flattened wood fibers. I was young.
And then I met
someone who began to mentor me into a man’s heart. He became to me one of the
most manly men I have ever met. I weep as I think of him. And now I cannot
write because my thoughts of him has returned me to the sorrow and grief we
have shared together on many occasions.
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At day’s end,
I see if I can pick up where I left off. More stories of the religious sexual
abusers move me to plumb the depths of my own soul to know what men can do when
the grief, and pain, and trauma of women threatens to get the best of us.
I turn back to
my mentor, and recall the thing he said that settled for me that I had no right
to hide from what women around me are going through. Even though the suffering
may be half a world away, it is far closer, and more painful, than anyone wants
to think. And yet the women are thinking it, and feeling it, and killing
themselves to get away from it.
My mentor is a
man named Jeremiah. He went through a season of history during which time he
witnessed his countrymen being slaughtered, women raped and brutalized,
children left to die, much like is happening in our world today. He was
powerless to stop it, and yet lived through it in a way that continues to help
people find God in the midst of any such circumstances of life.
There is a book
that Jeremiah has written called, “Lamentations”. It is in the Bible. It is a
song of lament, of sorrow, of grief. It is a man’s song. It is a man’s sorrows,
and a man’s grief. And yet, much of his sorrows and grief were because of the
children and the women who were suffering at the hand of their wicked enemy.
I recall how
Jeremiah taught me to see abused women as women and children at the same time. Their
stories take us back to childhoods where things should not have happened. Their
best efforts to put the trauma behind them have failed, and it leaks out of
their souls as if no time has passed. They are little girls again. The bad
things are happening again. And this time someone must help them.
So I heard my
mentor call loudly into my soul with this appeal to men of every age:
“Arise, cry out in the night, at the beginning of the night watches!
Pour out your heart like water before the presence of the Lord!
Lift your hands to him for the lives of your children,
who faint for hunger at the head of every street.”[1]
I had never
heard a man appeal so emotionally, and earnestly, as though his eyes could see through
every year of passing time, and find me where I was hiding, where I was wishing
that women didn’t hurt as terribly as I was finding out. And his words shook me
to the core.
At night, when
it is most difficult to silence the cries, and the screams, and the recurring
horrors, men are to get up, and present their hearts to the Lord. Men are to
willingly let their hearts become like water before the Lord, pouring out with
no foolish limitations of pride and culture. Whatever pain their hearts receive
from the women-children who cry in the night, they are to allow nothing to
harden their hearts, or slow the flow of grief that pleads for God to hear
these little ones who have never yet felt him touch them in their trauma.
While I was
learning to pray for the little girls who bore the abuse of wicked-hearted men,
Jeremiah told me his own story of standing before God on behalf of the
traumatized women of his world. His heart-piercing testimony was this:
“My eyes will flow without ceasing, without respite,
until the Lord from heaven looks down and sees;
my eyes cause me grief at the fate of all the daughters of my city.[2]
Yes, Jeremiah
prayed for the children around him as they suffered the fallout of their city’s
destruction. And yes, Jeremiah taught me to pray for children in the same way,
and to pray for the abused little girls who lived inside women’s bodies. And he
set the example by telling me what he was doing.
Jeremiah would
let his eyes flow with tears, without ceasing, without taking a break, until he
could see that God himself was looking down from heaven, seeing the plight of
these women, and hearing and answering his prayer. He saw the fate of the
daughters of his city, the effect of the life-destroying experience of his
people. And what he saw in the women, what his eyes forced him to see, caused
him inner grief that would not be quieted by turning away, or distracting
himself, or putting himself first, or denying what was taking place. He would
only find quiet when his prayers for the traumatized women were answered, and
God came to their rescue.
Jeremiah’s
example helped me through seasons of unimaginable sorrow. Never did I doubt how
good God was, for the evil was not his. Never did I doubt that he could heal
the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds, just as he said.[3]
But there was some sense in which I had to become the brokenhearted. I had to
feel the brokenness so that I would care about it, and find God caring about
it.
I had to open
my heart to the timeless pain of childhood trauma. I had to find a strength in
God that would enable me to cry without restriction. And so I wrote songs, and
I sang songs, and I cried, and I prayed. I turned to my mentor’s songs to help
me grieve, and to give me comfort in my grief. And, like him, I wrote down
words that would help me pour out my heart like water before the Lord, and to
help my tears of prayer flow unceasingly into God’s presence until the broken
hearts of these women were healed.
While looking
back on those early lessons of relating to the childhood sexual abuse of women,
I once again find myself overwhelmed with the wide scale, religion-sanctioned,
traumatization of countries, communities, families, parents, children, and the
women sold for pennies to gratify the evil demands of their sexual abusers. Once
again, Jeremiah mentors me in the realities of a man’s heart.
© 2014 Monte Vigh ~ Box 517,
Merritt, BC, Canada, V1K 1B8 ~ in2freedom@gmail.com
Unless otherwise noted,
Scriptures are from the English Standard Version (The Holy Bible, English
Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good
News Publishers.)
The Women of Our
City
O Lord, we
come to pray to you
For the women
of our city
We come to
lift their needs to you in earnest prayer
We open up our
hearts, O Lord
Humbly waiting
for your mercy
We pray for women
everywhere
We pray for
women lost in sin
Broken by the
pain they’re in
Hopeless in
the things they’re going through
We pray that
you will touch them, Lord
Save them from
this evil world
May their
searching hearts
come back to
you
We see the
tears the women cry
and we fear
our hearts’ responses
We want to
know the love
that fills
your Father’s heart
We want to
love as godly men
Walking in
your righteous purpose
O may their
day of healing start
We pray the
thoughts we can’t conceal
Unashamed of what
we feel
For the women
we now intercede
Bring comfort
to each wounded soul
Heal their
minds and make them whole
For the broken
women we now plead
We come to you
with softened hearts
For the pain
our wives have suffered
We ask you now
to come and heal their brokenness
We pray this
for our daughters, Lord
For our
sisters and our mothers
O come and
give our women rest
O Lord,
they’ve suffered far too long
In their
weakness, make them strong
May they know
the comfort of your love
You see the
tears the women cry
Pain so bad
they want to die
Help them lift
their eyes to look above
(tempo and
tune change)
Our tears will
flow like a river
For wounds as
deep as the sea
We will not
rest ‘til we see you
Setting our
women free
Let them know
your love in the morning
May compassion
rise like the dawn
Make your
faithfulness shine like the noonday sun
‘Til the pain
of the night is gone
Lord, renew
the hope of our women
May they
quietly wait for you
May they call
upon you as their Father
From the
anguish they’re going through
May the night
of distress turn to morning
Shine the
light of your loving grace
From the
heavens look down on our women, Lord
Give them
sight of your loving face
© 2003 Monte
Vigh
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