There is Healing for Every Wound (and Room)
My Journey From Trauma to Testimony
I've been seeking God for a long time.
My parents met in a Church of Christ in Miami, Florida. Max Lucado, a now well-known Christian author, was their pastor back then. They were part of an enthusiastic group of young Christians. God was, quite literally, foundational to their relationship.
After my parents married, they moved to Rochester, NY, where I was born after two miscarriages. My sister came along a couple of years after me. We attended the Church of Christ as a family every Sunday morning and Wednesday night until I was about ten.
I loved the harmonies of the a cappella music and the high ceilings that seemed to somehow transport me to a part of heaven or bring God down to earth. I believed God was there. He was very real to me. Of course, there is more than God and good in the world. Sin and evil are present as well.
My earliest traumatic experience happened to me at that church.
My mom's best friend at the church had two sons. These boys were my best friends in the community. We often played around the church grounds or inside the building while our parents socialized after the service.
On one of these occasions, these friends were playing with a larger group of boys. There was a group of about 5 or 6 boys, instead of the usual 2. There was a whispered exchange between them, but I didn't realize they were teaming up on me until they led me into the "cry room" in the back of the chapel and closed the door.
The cry room is a soundproof room in the chapel where the parents can go with restless children or crying babies. So, essentially, I was about 7 years old, in a dark, soundproof room with a group of little boys that had collectively decided to ambush me.
The boys forced me to lay down on the ground, and held me there. I remember it so vividly. A hand over my mouth. Hands pressed firmly on my stockinged legs. Unable to move against their force. I remember being very scared and upset. I remember crying. “Cry room” took on a new meaning for me that day.
Thankfully, an adult walked in and disbanded the attack. As vivid as my memory of the event is, I don't recall much that occurred directly afterward. I don't know what consequences there were for those boys. I don't remember what my parents said to me.
I remember feeling freaked out about germs since one of the boys had his hand over my mouth. I imagine I was in a bit of shock. I certainly hadn’t seen the attack coming and didn’t know what to make of it. All I knew was that it had been frightening and felt like a betrayal.
Many years later, when I was in college and had been away from church for a long time, I visited a Church of Christ alone one Sunday. I was interested in religion and wanted to remember what it was like. Maybe I could build a habit of attending, get plugged in, and do less self-harmful things by finding God at church again.
I was struck by an inexplicable sadness during the service, especially while singing the old hymns from childhood. I couldn’t hold back the tears and cried through much of it. I didn’t want to walk out and draw extra attention to myself, so I just stayed. I rushed out of the church quickly after the service ended. That was the last time I went to the Church of Christ.
I'm now nearing my 40s and seeking a solid foundation in God. Over the past year and a half, I have become very interested in Catholicism. I have been spending time in Catholic churches, attending Mass and Adoration.
Interestingly, the "cry room" is one of the rooms I keep finding myself in.
The first couple of times I found myself in a "cry room" as an adult, I got a little shiver of "yuck." An inner cringe. A sense memory from childhood lingers. A part of me sees that room and wants to run the other way.
However, at the Parish I have been attending, one of the two cry rooms is used for the beautiful purpose of Adoration. Adoration is a devotion Catholics practice in which one can come in at any time to pray, meditate, or simply sit in the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.
Sitting in that quiet room and feeling the Holy presence has been an incredibly peaceful and healing experience for me. The church also uses the cry room for RCIA classes; I took those classes with my husband.
This morning, I sought the cry room during a mission presentation to avoid inhaling the smoke of ritual incense. As I sat alone in the empty cry room, I glanced over at the wooden carved statue of a deer on the wall. Its text read, “As the deer pants for the water, my soul longs for you, God.”
I gazed up at Jesus on the cross at the head of the church as golden light danced off the monstrance, illuminating the large room of worshippers.
I know God sees us when we struggle with pain, doubt, and the wounds of sin.
I know God saw me today, a middle-aged woman, a mother, a wife, sitting in the cry room with hands folded, understanding the depth of feelings in my heart in a way only He can.
I know God was with me that day when I was a frightened young girl in a cry room in a different time and place. He has never left me alone and never will.
I don’t believe the attack in the cry room of my childhood church was a struggle against a group of little boys. I recognize my real struggle is with the presence of sin in this world. As Saint Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus:
"Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Ephesians 6:12).
Jesus never promised we would not have trouble. On the contrary, he told us to expect it, especially when following Him. But He also promised us perfect peace, victory, and the presence of his Holy Spirit.
When we turn away from evil and seek the face of God, even death loses its sting. Evil becomes nothing but the step of a staircase under our feet. God draws us closer to Him through our struggles if we allow Him.
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (John 14:27).
I am still a seeker on the journey.
Earthly struggles will not keep me away from God.
I will continue to seek His perfect peace in my heart and life.
In Jesus, there is healing for every wound (and every room).
