I am hard on myself, my harshest critic, and I find that often, this is counterproductive. My life and faith came against what felt like a wall a few years ago, so I signed up for an intensive men’s retreat. I was pretty excited until I got the pre-retreat homework. It was a series of intrusive questions like “What wounds do you carry from your father?” I found myself incredibly resistant to digging into my past.. to tell you the truth, I got three questions in and quit. I gave my life to Jesus at 28 and worked through confession, repentance, and forgiveness. I had been told my past had been redeemed by putting my faith in Jesus, so I put my 28 years of broken and messy history into what I wanted to be a locked file cabinet somewhere out of sight. The last thing I wanted to do was dig it up again. That men’s retreat was one of the most difficult trials I’ve ever faced, but I realized that I was living with rejection, judgment, and contempt for myself, for my story.
Therapist and founder of Restory Counseling, Chris Bruno, compares our beings and the stories that make up our lives to the cross-section of a tree. Each section and age is made up of stories. Just as a tree holds every ring for its entire existence, we are composed of every age we’ve ever been. And the stories we hold become the repeated narratives of our lives.
Part of my story is that of sexual harm, beginning at the age of six. Having just moved from the paradise of Miracle Hot Springs, where we were free to roam, to the city, where the rules weren’t changed, I was young and eager to make friends. An older boy at the end of the block welcomed me to his group of friends, and I sensed belonging. As it turned out, he had been molesting all of the boys in the neighborhood. As an adult, I didn’t find it very difficult to forgive him, the abuser, but what I didn’t realize was that I needed to give that 6-year-old little boy a valuable part of the man I am today, the kindness and compassion that was robbed from him.
If you are like me, you quickly forgive others but neglect to offer the same to yourself. Unless we honor our past selves by acknowledging the true stories we’re comprised of and acknowledge God’s presence in even the darkest moments, we stand in contempt. So, when I treat six-year-old, 13-year-old, or 20-year-old John with disdain and judgment, I deny God His presence and sovereignty at that time. Jesus not only died for our sins but as the Son of man was raised and seated at the right hand of God. “He was given authority, glory, and sovereign power; all nations and peoples of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom will never be destroyed.” (Daniel 7:14) In denying God’s dominion, we also refuse his grace and forgiveness.
After Paul’s life-changing encounter on the way to Damascus (Acts 9), it is said that he returned to Tarsus for ten years before he started his ministry. Do you think he needed to work through a few things in his story? Can we sense the invitation from God to do the same?
I’m unsure what this might look like in your story and life today. It could be a divorce or a failed business. How about a friend of mine who is a follower of Jesus and had an affair? They’ve worked hard to repair. At times, the marriage seems like it’s going to make it, but the weight of guilt and shame has made a home squarely on their shoulders, and it’s crushing them.
When is it appropriate to show ourselves the kindness and compassion of the scandalous grace that God offers us? Is it possible to not just redeem the past but resurrect it? What if we could enter into the strata of the tree that is infected and rotting from the inside and inject what it needs to heal?
We can! I have now participated in and witnessed the freedom that can come by inviting others and the Holy Spirit into the telling of our stories. Not just what happened but how it felt, allowing the grief and anger to flow through our lament and then acknowledging God was there through it all. I can get down on my knees, embrace little six-year-old John, and give him what he needs. I can tell him what a brave little guy he was and that he has a Father who delights in him and has been and will always be with him. It has been the practice of telling a truer story, lamenting, and blessing my little boy that has led to a more abundant life and faith. The same is possible for you.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I (Jesus) have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10)
