My little hands trembled as I watched the slender lamp swivel and then crash to the floor, glass exploding into the air like confetti, and the burst of the light bulb like a camera flash. Bright, disorienting, and then dark.

Their shouting grew louder, and the violence of my stepdad’s words seemed to insidiously seep into everything within range. Into my mother’s ears as she frantically tried to defend herself, and into my tender heart as I watched him abuse her. Our tiny apartment was filled with violence, trauma, lies, and fear.

I learned to hide. Hide the bruises, hide the trembling, hide the shattered pieces of a childhood and attempt to make it all sound prettier.

Sisters, these are places in my heart I would like to remain hidden. Places that I want to conceal because I am afraid of what will become of them when they are revealed. Maybe you have similar places in your own heart? Painful memories that you hold onto. Areas of brokenness that you don’t want Jesus to see.

One day I confronted the Lord with a question that terrified me: If I am Your beloved daughter, why did You allow all of that to happen to me?

Then I perceived an image of Jesus on the Cross, crying out to His Father to ask why He had been forsaken. A glimpse of overwhelming sorrow, of the intense pain, of the longing, of the grief, and of the love. There He was. There I was. There we were . . . crying out to our Father together.

A ray of beauty penetrated the surrounding darkness and I realized that I was never alone. He was pouring out love for me, and my heart would be healed. “But who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 15:16)

I always said He was a good Father, yet I was afraid to approach Him. I was afraid to reveal my deepest sorrows and my questions, afraid what He would do. But what He did was to hold me, love me, and heal me.

What are you afraid to bring to Him? He wants to hold, love, and heal you, too.

[bctt tweet="He wants to heal you. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"]

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