Had
a boogieman under my bed
Putting
crazy thoughts inside my head
Always
whispering, "It's all your fault"
He
was telling me "No, you're not that strong"
I
think it's time to practice what I preach
Exorcise
the demons inside me
Whoa,
gotta learn to let it go
The
past can't haunt me if I don't let it
Live
and learn and never forget it
Whoa, gotta learn to let it go…
~ Kesha "Learn to Let Go"
“Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can
function regardless of the temperature of the heart.” ♡
― Corrie Ten Boom
Carrying the baggage of
others will eventually break you.
In the past month, I have
rediscovered the true source of my hurt and resentment. The emotional nesting dolls I
have spent years unpacking, saw each stack emerge in bindings of vexation.
Delving into the many layers, they revealed another filament of my discord,
with those responsible for my safe keeping.
Years of unfathomable abuse
saw both my heart and spirit wounded, time and time again; I felt no one was
listening. It would take 48 years for me to come to understand that really I
had unresolved business with the church- that deep down inside I hated religion,
but still loved Jesus.
To follow my progression is
to know of the twenty years as a writer and researcher; I have studied, read and viewed many sources that saw me hold the church responsible for horrid
crimes, I deemed unforgivable.
In the film, “The Magdalene
Sisters,” a true account is presented of the nuns in Ireland dating back to the
early 1900’s — whose abusive methods of those incarcerated, resulted in
numerous deaths.
The Magdalene Laundries,
which were referred to as Magdalene asylums, saw approximately 30,000 young
women restricted within the walls.
The crimes these “fallen
women,” were accused of?
Having a child out of
wedlock, being the victim of rape and some with mental health disorders were
locked away, to be used as slave labour.
If I existed back then, I would have
been guilty of all three ‘offences.’
These women also never saw
their children again, as they were outcasts of society.
In 1993, on the convent
grounds of one particular laundry, a massive grave of 155 bodies were
unearthed.
1n 2013, a formal state
apology was given and £ 50 million compensation for survivors was established
by the Irish Government. Those who operated the laundries refused to
financially contribute to the program. ~ Source: Wikipedia.
There is a memorial called
Magdalene seat, which is located in St. Stephens Green Park, Dublin, Republic
of Ireland. The plaque reads:
"To the women who worked in the Magdalene laundry institutions and to the children born to some members of those communities, reflect here upon their lives."
Watching this film, I wept
for the lives taken against their will. Throughout the story, I sat in shock
over what was done to these innocent women, all in the name of God.
Afterwards, I found myself
pouring over the pages of my Bible and asking the Lord…WHY?
Another movie that is based
on truth is the film “Boy Erased.”
To summarize: a young boy whose father is
a Pastor, is ousted as being gay or lesbian. His parents send him off to a gay
conversion therapy boot camp. The ‘Doctor’ in charge of this extreme therapy,
who profited money, is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. They are humiliated, thrown
into tubs of ice water and have relatives come and in an appalling ceremony, beat
the ‘sickness’ out of them with Bibles. This results in a young man committing
suicide.
What disturbed me was the
loss of life that occurred, both physically and spiritually at the hands of
someone, who deemed themselves an expert on conversion therapy. They claimed it
was God’s will to drive the gayness out of them.
The real shocker comes, when
the man leading the crusade of conversion, leaves his wife of 22 years and marries a man.
I thought of my own
daughter, who could have been “Girl Erased.” For Shayla loved everyone… no
matter of their race, cultural or sexual orientation.
When my daughter passed, a
young person at her Celebration of Life, came to thank me… one night when this
individual was suicidal, it was Shayla who stopped them from taking their life.
My daughter was about saving souls in the true sense~ not capitalizing on their
struggles.
Recently, I read a story
about one of my favourite authors, Elizabeth Gilbert. She is best known for her
2006 memoir, turned into a movie — “Eat Pray Love.”
Her love life, reads like a
frenzied eight ball that provides several fortunes, instead of one.
When Gilbert’s first
marriage ended and after a whirl wind of travel along with enlightenment, she
found true passion with her second husband of ten years.
Later she would leave him
and couple up with her best friend of 17 years, Rayya, who was dying from
cancer. Now after Rayya’s passing, the author and adventurer, has yet again
found unbridled fervour with her late lover’s male confident.
Part of me wondered at the
sensational turn of events in her life, time and time again.
In my earlier years of
writing, I remember a story I published on how some women, so swept up in Gilbert’s
journey and captivating storytelling, embarked on their individual Eat, Pray, Love
adventure. Their zeal for exotic foods, spiritual discovery and finding their
own one true love, spun off into another book, written by the author… whose
impact around the world resonated with complete strangers.
In the nesting dolls I have
been unpacking; there is one marked “Love,” that once remained sealed. The
reality of being single for six years, has been the greatest gift I could give
myself. There is no mere mortal who completes me, no prince charming who is
saving this pretty woman…the one who is the Captain of my soul, remains my
Creator.
During my time of being in
solitude, I have devoted myself to my fifteen-year-old Bible I was gifted, by a
woman named Sandy Dewhurst.
This is where I go to
question, to find answers, to gain knowledge and be closer to God.
Yet in my archives on You
Tube, is a video that I first discovered 7 years ago.
This is connected to my
yearning for answers to things, which had me shaking my finger at the Church,
in my stance against religion.
A few weeks ago, I found myself
wanting more clarification. My opinions were being fuelled by all that I
disdained that is done in the name of God. My efforts found me absorbed in the word of scripture and reading about an Apostle
named Paul (Saul). In my studying of my Bible, there was research conducted and a
documentary, I watched.
What I discovered was an account of someone whose
influence on today’s world stunned me, given the nature of who he was and
connects to my theme of the perception of forgiveness.
The raw truth of Saul is that he was a murderous barbarian, who butchered
innocent women and children. His life was devoted to hating Christians.
However, an encounter of light from heaven upon Saul saw the Lord question:
“Saul, why are you
persecuting me?”
In his response, Saul asks:
“Who are You, Lord?”
His sight was stricken from
him for three days.
He went from being Saul the Murderer to Paul
the Apostle. His conversion saw Paul become a devout follower of Jesus and
spreading the gospel.
There are some who may
think they have not heard of him.
Yet at funerals, Paul’s words
have been recited…
” I have done my best in the race, I have run the full
distance, and kept the faith…”
~ 2 Timothy 4:7
At weddings 1 Corinthians 13: 4-7 is either recited or printed on invitations…
These expressions, you may
have spoken of publicly or bought an anniversary card come from a once
condemned man, who was saved and in turn dedicated his life to Christ.
Paul’s
letters, containing these words, stand the test of history.
This lead me to be part of a
two day conference called: “Wounded Healers.”
Wounded Healers Ministries
was founded by Archdeacon Ron Corcoran and his wife Deirdre Corcoran, along
with other partners.
In a previous Sunday
service, Ron spoke of the conference and the main topic of forgiveness. He made
a comment that one of the matters to be discussed was forgiveness and the
Church.
Since “Wounded Healers,”
was being held at the First Church of the Nazarene and I had been gifted a
bursary, plans were made to attend.
The monsters under my bed
had never disappeared and I wanted release from my sordid past.
In going over my list of
those I have previously forgiven, I was overconfident in thinking I knew, where
my bitterness stemmed from. While one man’s name lay on my lips, he represented
others who had stripped from me, layers of innocence.
When Ron spoke of
his own discord with the Church from long ago and then shared about personal
abuse, I was surprised at his disclosure.
He has written several books, including the 'remarkable true story': Deliver Us From Evil, which details the years of child abuse and spiritual deception that lead to deliverance and ultimate redemption. *Source from the front cover of Ron Corcoran's book.
Ron then said something that riveted me. He went on to
say how the church is the building or the place, but
inside are the people ...who are the ones that can hurt
you.
It occurred to me, the structure is therefore not accountable, because the truth is the actual
individuals within it, are the ones responsible! This was the unexpected
answer I was looking for.
While
I believed my connection with God was good, the underlying animosity I directed
at the Church, was now exposed.
My
thoughts were filled with anger at what had happened to the ill-treated,
murdered Irish girls in the Magdalene asylums, to the boys and girls who were
punished, shunned and tormented for who they loved, along with the horror of
the residential schools.
In
every account, the words: “In the name of God! ...” was misused to inflict some
type of shameful abuse. These perpetrators knew of the power of these words and
chose to be lead by evil, instead of love.
As
I sat reflecting in the pew of the church, I had spent
years thinking the one person I needed to forgive…was myself. I was wrong!
I had carried the disgrace, the abuse, the
lies and betrayals of others far too long.
Taking a pen, I wrote on a slip of
red paper, the name of the man I needed to let go...the remaining monster under my bed.
Folding the paper in
half, I thought of the girl in the above photograph, smiling behind the sorrow
of her past.
She
was a character I invented and re-invented, to suit the needs of others, in order for me to be loved.
Looking
at the snapshot, I see what no one else but God does…the invisible scars on my
jar of clay, I was created from.
Walking
up to the front of the sanctuary, I grab the hammer and a nail. In front of me,
is a sea of crimson, on display at a wooden cross. I take his name that has
been removed from my lips. As I
pierce the paper, I know that Jesus died for this man’s sins, just as he did
mine.
That
was over 2 weeks ago…
What
I have carried for a lifetime is gone. The one simple act of forgiveness I
have done, now opens my heart wide, to see what can be accomplished in Jesus's
name…
I have prospered in the very battles in
which the enemy sought to destroy me.
~Francis Frangipane- The Stronghold of
God 1978
…Darkest
water and deepest pain
I
wouldn't trade it for anything
'Cause
my brokenness brought me to you
And
these wounds are a story you'll use
So I'm thankful for the scars…
…I'm
thankful for your scars
'Cause
without them I wouldn't know your heart
And
with my life, I'll tell of who you are
So
forever I am thankful…
By
TL Alton
