My eldest daughter, Charla, recently wrote a paper for her college psychology class about depression and decided to share it with me. The subject of her paper was her younger brother, Brett, and what he suffered as a young boy in an abusive home. (You can read Charla’s account of her class presentation here.)
I feared that reading my daughter’s words about her brother would reach deep and unveil wounds in me that simply refuse to heal – and they did. As I read, I was once again compelled to revisit those dark days, and I began to weep to the point that I could scarcely make out the words on the page. Although her conclusion was positive and encouraging, I had a hard time receiving it. A decade after our escape, the guilt of remaining with that abusive man as long as I did haunts me still.
Seeing me in engulfed in my regret, my husband wrapped a loving arm around my shoulders and said to me, “Don’t do this to yourself. Despise the man.” In a response grounded in unbridled honesty, I lifted my head and half whispered, “And the church that kept me there.” Continue reading The Church That Kept Me There

“The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” Jeremiah 17:9
“Hope deferred makes the heart sick…” Proverbs 13:12
“Time, whose tooth gnaws away at everything else, is powerless against truth.” – Thomas Huxley