Like many of us, I’ve been through various trials in my life.  When it comes to adoption, teen pregnancy, racial (and sexual) identity issues, and plenty of other things I’ve been there.  Some seasons were easier than others, and some left bigger scars.  And although each trial provided some incredible gleaning opportunities, it all feels like it’s turned into one big, jumbled mess.  A mess that has been (and will continue to be) used by God–but nonetheless, still a mess. As I think about it, I’m reminded of the moments when my littles were actually “little.”  After they were tucked in bed and were sound asleep, I’d stand there looking around our toy-scattered, crushed goldfish-covered house wondering, where do I even start?  If only a “Rescue the Mama” magic fairy could appear and tell me she’s got this!  

Now don’t get me wrong, I know each “toy” of my life has a place and each “crushed goldfish” can be made whole again with a newfound purpose.  However, somewhere along the lines, I began to believe it was my responsibility to figure out how to clean and organize it all.  I had forgotten that my Abba knows just what to do with it. So here, I wait and write… and wait some more.

However, there was a part of my story that I didn’t think He would ever lead me to share publicly.  It was the one layer of my multi-faceted testimony…the one layer of my soul, rather, that I wanted to keep to myself.  I’ve shared it plenty of times in one-on-one (spirit-led) moments, but the overall healing process just felt so incredibly sacred, that I wanted to keep it at that personal level.  Isn’t it just like God to always do the opposite of what we want and sometimes expect?  He very gently grabs our hand and leads us right through the locked doors of our hearts.

Like inspecting an old attic, He takes a look around at all the pieces of our broken lives and carefully picks up whatever His heart desires.  He then lovingly looks us right in the eye – with eyes that pierce straight through our souls–and He calmly says, “how about we share this gem with others?”

On the other side of this particular locked door, were the memories of two abortions as well as the waves of grace and mercy that washed over me.  I lied to myself for many, many years after making that choice, especially after the second one.  It not only became a place I wouldn’t go, it became a place that simply didn’t exist.  Facing the truth of that self-inflicted, deeply gut-wrenching pain was just way too much to bear, period.

But one day, the Lord impressed it on me to take some necessary steps, first by pouring my heart out to Him until it felt empty.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  As I began talking to Him about my numb suffering, as if He didn’t already know, His presence quickly began to fill the space.  It felt as if He were physically there with me, holding me tightly on those basement stairs as I sobbed uncontrollably.  (As I recall that moment, my eyes are filled with tears… here in a busy, noisy Panera Bread dining room.)  

On those basement stairs, I truly began to receive God’s unconditional love, goodness, and completely undeserved mercy.  I did this heinous thing…I shed innocent blood…the innocent blood of my very own babies…of His babies!  Yet, somehow in His unfathomable grace, not only will He still welcome me into Heaven–forgiven–but I get to meet those children there one day!  Be still, my shattered heart.  It gets even better…on top of that, He eventually blessed me with more children!  I knew He was good, but could He really be this good?

So quietly and yet at the same time, so loudly, He spoke to my heart, Yes, I really am “that” good.  I was totally undone before this Holy, gracious and compassionate God.  All I could do was cry then, and all I can do is cry now. Those waves of grace and mercy that washed over me, left me feeling closer to Him than I ever have. To say it was an intimate time would be an understatement. 

Fast forward to the present, and the revelation has become much deeper.  My situation was not one of rape or even a lack of resources (not that God can’t use even the ugliest and darkest of circumstances because He certainly can and He does). It’s not by any means comparable to rape, but I myself was conceived out of an affair, unexpected and unwanted–but God had a purpose for my life.  As a side note, please understand I am not judging ANYONE.  Truly, I am the last person to have a right to judge any person for anything.  I’m simply stating, in my case, choosing abortion was purely selfish and purely demonic–both times.  In fact, I later learned those same spirits that I’ve allowed to influence me (while still taking full responsibility for my choice) have been at work in my biological family for quite some time.  That’s a story for a different day though.  

In our self-seeking culture, we tend to get rid of anything perceived as an issue or uncomfortable obstacle. And we are often willing–no matter the cost–to do whatever it takes to make it go away.  Ignorantly, we listen to Satan’s lies and in turn, mindlessly drown out the voice of God.  

Although just mere humans, we have made the grave mistake of believing one of the greatest and most dangerous lies–that we are entitled to climb up onto our very Creator’s throne and unashamedly plop ourselves down in His place. 

(Well, we attempt to anyway).

If there’s one thing I learned during the past six months (which entailed much, much exceptionally intense spiritual warfare), it’s just how supernatural the world around us really is.  People, our issues, abuse. All of it ultimately stems from that which is unseen.  We must trust scripture and have the eyes to see it, though, or we will miss out on quite a bit.  We read all about miracles in God’s incredible love letter to us, but we live mundanely desensitized in our everyday lives.  Dry, content and dead inside with callous, unmoldable hearts… one day quickly bleeds into the next.  But either nothing is supernatural or everything is, especially the consequential decision to keep or end human life.  

All these years later, after that moment on the basement stairs, I found myself pressed for time to find a remote job.  Anything mostly from home would have been fine… I just needed something flexible that enabled me to be with my 7 and 9 year old “babies” during summer break.  While applying to over 25 or so jobs, (all of which I was qualified for), each door unapologetically stayed closed.

Suddenly, one door came along and flew so wide open, I thought another day of pentecost was happening.  Just kidding.  Still, can you guess what it was?  A position working for an incredible pro-life, pro-woman non profit organization.  Sometimes, overwhelmed by the love, support and presence of the Holy Spirit among my new co-workers, I tear up over very minor things.    Just thinking about God’s love in connecting me to them also makes me want to lose it (but I need to keep it together so I don’t become known as that weird new girl who’s always crying).  

Nonetheless, I know I’m right where He wants me.  Not only did He walk me through supernatural healing, but all this time later… in His perfect timing of course…He placed me somewhere where I can contribute to the fight for life, daily.  There’s nothing like when your Daddy shows up and shows off!  

Each day, I stand in awe of Him and His perfect ways… I stand in awe of the contrast between His holiness and my brokenness.  In the words of St. Paul, “wretched man that I am.” I am clearly as wretched and as emotionally ratchet as they come.  

Yet, my Father holds me and my Heavenly babies in the palm of His hand and calls us His own….