Wednesday, June 8, 2016

let go.

as i sat and read the news this morning, i was reminded of the webs that weave all of human life together. the common experiences that we all share. i don't think that i have ever written about current events and it's been a really, really long time since i've written about my own experience with assault, but today those two collide. the New York Times posted an article today containing the personal response of the girl who was sexually assaulted by Brock Turner. i read her statement with teary eyes, seeing her strive for freedom on paper, seeing her side of the story thrown out there for all the world to consume and judge. knowing full well that releasing a statement does not bring her freedom. certainly it brings a sense of peace; a sense that you said what you needed to say, that you allowed your voice to be heard, that you took control instead of staying a silent victim. and that is valuable. that is important. allowing assault to take away your voice, your strength, your value, is heartbreaking. but even if every human who has ever been assaulted had a chance to broadcast their side of the story, and every sexual predator was brought to justice, the outcome would still not be freedom. not for the victim, or the criminal.

but, that's not the only reason that this story stuck. this girl, this victim, is my age. we probably graduated college the same year and started our independent lives at the same time. it wouldn't be a stretch to say that though we have never met, our lives are a series of similar events. and now we share one deeper. our stories look different, but the truth is no matter the circumstances, the violation is the same. the affect on your psyche is the same. the confusion and frustration and anger and fear and shame...they all match. and then, this poor girl had to go through the trauma of a trial, of seeing her attacker regularly, of hearing both himself and his attorneys defend his innocence, all while her body and her soul carried the scars to prove otherwise. to sit before a jury and a courtroom and attempt to convince people that your most basic right, the right to yourself, was stripped from you and violated, would be jarring to say the least. my heart aches for this girl for a number of reasons, but mostly it aches because we all know that a 19 year old boy behind bars doesn't take away the crippling anxiety. it doesn't take away the shame or confusion or anger. it doesn't take away the looming fear that you will never, ever be the same. for this girl, no amount of justice will ever take away the emptiness.  justice won't bring her freedom. only Jesus can bring freedom. she doesn't know that everything she lost can be restored. she doesn't know that her life and her story can have abundant purpose, not in spite of her trauma, but including her trauma. she doesn't know that someone endured every injustice so that no matter what, she could be called worthy, valuable, whole, clean, perfect. she doesn't know that her life can be more beautiful, more full, more complete than it was before her attack. she doesn't know that someday, she can supernaturally forgive the boy who did this to her, and let go. that's the real tragedy.

now please don't hear me saying that rape and assault are not tragic and destructive and paralyzing. trust me, based on experience, i know that they are. i've spent the sleepless nights. i've had the panic attacks. i've battled depression, shame, guilt, anger and unforgiveness. i understand. but i also understand that rape culture has existed since the dawn of time, and as long as evil exists, unfortunately, rape culture will exist. I completely believe that their must be repercussions for these crimes and that peace and safety exist when criminals are punished for their actions. I would never say to stop being angry at the crime. especially as believers who know the weight of our sin, we should never stop fighting injustice. What i am saying though is that in the meantime don't forget that our hearts aren't longing for earthly justice, our hearts are longing for Jesus. this unnamed victim, along with millions of others, is now faced with a lifetime full of lies rooted in a strangers "20 minutes" of unbelievable selfishness and the only thing that will begin to heal that kind of hurt, to break the chains of shame, is Jesus. This is why He did what He did, why He died, why He came back. because our world and ourselves are desperately broken and selfish. but He gives us a way out. hope. potential. purpose.

i don't talk about my own experiences often. i don't want "victim" to be a word that people associate with me. i don't want "victim" spoken over me. assault is part of my story, but "victim" is not part of my identity. but that should be why i write. because in the middle of despair i realized that Jesus had been weeping over me and my brokenness since the moment it happened. He never stopped. He never left. He was with me the whole time and always will be and He took my pain and shame and turned it to joy and purpose. He took a story filled with lies and heartache and confusion, and replaced it with one of truth and healing and joy. and the same thing is possible for every "victim".

So as you read about the Brock Turner case and hear all the voices, i pray that the loudest voice is the one that says "take heart, I have overcome the world"[john 16:33]. i pray that your heart is stirred to pray less for punishment and pray more for redemption. i pray that when you look at victims of abuse you not see shame and brokenness, but see a future of joy and abundant life, and that you be the salt and light that shows them they are worthy of love and capable of healing. the truth is that no matter which side of the story you look at, all you can see is brokenness and shame and guilt. my prayer is that as followers of Jesus we get less and less consumed with arguing sides and more consumed with helping the hurting find healing. the only way that we can win is not to see a criminal behind bars, but to see every victim freed from their chains. and i pray that someday the common experience i share with this girl, extends to freedom in Christ.