The Freedom of Forgiveness

CONTENT WARNING: This article contains discussion and depiction of violence, sexual assault, and sexual abuse. If you or a loved one are looking for next steps to move towards healing and freedom after experiencing sexual assault and/or abuse, we recommend reaching out to a trained Christian professional who can assist you. If you would like someone to pray with you, please connect with our partners at stonecroft.org/pray.

Have you ever wondered what Dinah did while her brothers were seeking revenge? The story silences her; the narrator doesn’t give us her perspective. But for those of us who have been raped, our stories don’t end quietly. Dinah had a decision to make that would shape everything that came after. And I have had that decision to make, too. Not once, but twice.

As the event of Dinah’s rape happens in one verse (Genesis 34:2), it all happened to me quite fast, too.

My mind trembles, remembering the details: the home invasion . . . the man with the crew cut and stained white t-shirt . . . his growling orders . . . the knife . . . my body invaded . . . my soul crushed.

In the aftermath, God’s words blanketed my heart: “I am leaving you a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is the gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid” (John 14:27, NLT) were powerful words that comforted my trembling. “Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me” (Psalm 23:4, NLT) told me that God walked with me out of that dark valley and would help me to re-engage.

These words, given to me by God, got me through the next few days and weeks as I tried to navigate this new life where I didn’t feel whole and innocent anymore. The man said he’d come back if I told anyone about what he had done. I feared for my family and for myself. The police were looking for him. I was clinging hard to other-worldly peace and comfort—the kind only God can give.

As time went on, and I continued in my new reality, I faced a new and unexpected challenge: Was this going to be the event that defined me? Was this who I was now? A victim? A survivor? Was my life ever going to be about anything else? How could I break out of this cycle of dwelling on difficult memories and grasping at straws of illusive control? How could I face the people I loved with the brokenness I felt? How could I rediscover the hope I’d once had for my future? I needed to make a decision.

It soon became apparent that in order to move forward, to live my life fully, I was going to have to break the bonds of fear, anger, and shame that were threatening to consume me. I was going to have to forgive the man who had raped me.

How do you do something like that? I looked to mentors and friends for help and support—significantly, my mother who continued to model forgiveness in her own life. If she could forgive those who had hurt her so deeply, I knew she could help me break through this anger, fear, and oppression that I was experiencing. She could help me free myself through forgiving the man who had attacked me.

I realized that my mom was also free. I believe it is one thing to forgive those who hurt us. It is within our control to forgive the wrong done to us. But I believe it is a greater challenge to forgive someone who has hurt someone you love. How can anyone do that without God’s love?

I didn’t realize how hard this truth would hit me until I had a daughter of my own. My little, beautiful girl was profoundly and systematically hurt by a family member starting from an early age. My anger and pain for her were so powerful that I could not see a way forward, a way to forgive. But my mother’s example broke through the darkness. Through her reliance on God’s power to overcome, she modeled the way. Almost thirty years after my mother and I knelt to forgive the man who hurt me, my daughter and I knelt and forgave the family member that hurt her.