I’m stepping out onto the field for sexual abuse victims

I watched the movie 42 last week, and I cried several times. God used the movie to speak to me profoundly, and in some ways I’m not even sure I can put words to paper about the change in me.

You see, God has shown me something way down deep. I ache and writhe when I see injustice. I simply cannot handle it. It’s even worse when I see the church perpetrating it. When I see injustice where a powerful person perpetrates against the weak, I’m back in the schoolyard, wanting to duke it out with the bully.

Problem is, when you duke it out, you get hurt.

Which brings me to 42’s message. Jackie Robinson learned to have dignity. He might not have even asked to be a hero, but by stepping out onto the field, he essentially stood up to millions of bullies, daring for the right to be seen as a human being. And as he did so, he plowed ground for racial reconciliation, a kinder nation, and civil rights.

I believe God is asking me to (in my own small space here) to stand up, to simply walk out onto the field, and be willing to take the flak for those who often don’t have a voice: sexual abuse victims. I have been maligned in doing so (on a small scale). And it has hurt. I sense it will get worse.

Why? Because Satan loves sexual abuse. And he loves the pain and bewilderment that comes from it. He loves the chaos and shame and dirtiness victims feel. He loves to trap perpetrators in their sin, helping them believe the lie that they will always be perpetrators. So those who stand up for victims will be targets.

On one hand, this scares me. On another, it emboldens me.

So I ask for your prayers. I am not a brave person by nature. I prefer calm to chaos, harmony to discord. But I believe God has called me to put on my uniform and step out onto the field, come what may, whatever that might look like. I do it because He has so beautifully restored me, rescuing me from Satan’s diabolical plans, and I want to serve (in a small way) as a midwife for other victims who need that restoration. I want to dignify them, give them a voice, or even write the words they feel but cannot say quite yet.

I may not punch a bully with my fists (I’m too weak), but I can defend those who have been violated simply by walking out onto the field and being a representation of redemption–living proof that you can have an incredibly joyful life even after awful devastation.

 

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