A Look Under the Rock . . .

I have spent a lot of my life in a very comfortable place. I knew that there was child abuse and neglect, I just didn’t know the child that was abused and neglected . . . or the adult they became. Sometimes you kick over a rock or a rotting log and you can see some pretty disgusting things. Slimy things, decaying things, scattering and scavenging things. Those creepy critters go running when they see the light. In these last few years, I have looked under a few rocks . . .

I saw the tears run down her face as she shared the pain she felt as a two or

three-year-old child, waiting in a dark house in a dark room, wondering

when her mommy would come back . . . if she would come back.

The foster mom told me that he had been raped so badly that he didn’t

have a normal bowel movement for a year . . . he was four.

When I asked what made her doubt if there was a God, she replied with tears,

“I haven’t been a virgin since I was two. Every man in my life has

used me and abused me. If there is a God in heaven who would

forgive these men, I would rather burn in hell.”

He remembers, as a little boy, being duct-taped to the floor of a closet

while his mom would go out drinking . . . to keep him safe.

The little girl who tried so hard to be a boy wasn’t gender confused . . .

she just didn’t get raped as often if she looked like a boy.

For lunch, he remembers that he and his sister would get hot dogs off the rollers

at the corner gas station where his mom kept an account for them . . .

or at least that’s what the clerk told them.

Her school morning routine wasn’t cereal and cartoons . . . it was bringing a beer

to her stepdad as he lay naked on the couch and watched pornography.

He asked his mom to scratch off the serial number on his new PlayStation®

so his dad wouldn’t pawn it for drinking money . . . he was nine.

She refused to take a shower at the children’s home and was labeled a stubborn

and rebellious child . . . turns out it had been in the shower that her mother’s many

boyfriends had raped her . . . her mom got drug money in exchange.

She turned to cutting to try to avoid the emotional pain she couldn’t deal with . . .

when she got caught doing this, her mother went and got a big knife

and told her she may as well do it right.

So, there are times where I just want to scream, slam the rock back down, run away and pretend I never saw any of those awful things. The thing is, we can close our eyes and turn away, but that doesn’t make it go away . . . it’s still happening. The question is: are we willing to step into the dark and bring the light?

“This is the verdict: Light has come

into the world, but people loved

darkness instead of light because

their deeds were evil.”

John 3:19 NIV

“Have nothing to do with the fruitless

deeds of darkness, but rather

expose them.”

Ephesians 5:11 NIV

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is

evil; cling to what is good.”

Romans 12:9 NIV