Where Was God?

This has been written in tears: Tears of a 4-year-old who doesn't understand what Daddy is doing. Tears of a 6-year-old who is told, "It won't hurt much longer." Tears of an eight-year-old who is told, "Stop crying it doesn't hurt any more," or, "If you don't stop crying, I'll give you something to cry about." Tears of a 10-year-old who hears, "If you don't do this to help me, I'll leave; and then you, your mother, and your brother will have no food or place to live." Tears of a 12-year-old girl who prays that God won't make her pregnant (and prays that prayer for seven more years). Tears of a 14-year-old who prays that God will wipe her father off the earth.

Incest is the subject I have more knowledge of than any other. It is also the subject that is the most difficult to write about. By so doing, I leave myself exposed, stripped of all pretenses of who or what I am, and therefore, totally vulnerable. But so vividly do I remember the abuse, so strongly do I understand the need to feel affirmed as a child of God, and so powerfully am I moved by the Spirit of God, that I am persuaded to bring light to a crime that must be an abomination unto God.

Most children, it seems, know little about fear. As a parent, I do everything in my power to protect my son from fearful situations. I suspect other parents do likewise.

But fear is a state of being that an abused child knows intimately. An abused child lives in fear created by someone who professes to love him or her.

Eventually the child grows to adulthood, as I have, afraid of life and suspicious of other people. It came as a shock to realize I was terrified of men and that I must constantly battle that fear.

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