Trial and Victory

11/5/2020

1 Peter 4:13 “Rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s suffering.”

Robin Roberts, one of the hosts of Good Morning America, often says, “Make your mess your message.” She speaks from experience, because she has had several life threatening illnesses that required very difficult therapies. She certainly has suffered. If you have not yet read her book, Everybody‘s Got Something, I would highly recommend it.

I have also heard many people say, “Make your test your testimony,” which is essentially the same thing. Both of these sayings are an encouragement to take our trials and use them for a bigger purpose. To look for and find the lessons in any hardship is often a difficult thing to do, yet there is great value in doing so. It can certainly help you along your journey, but more importantly, it can help others. Chambers writes, “If you are going to be used by God, He will take you through a multitude of experiences that are not meant for you at all, they are meant to make you useful in His hands, and to enable you to understand what transpires in other souls so that you will never be surprised at what you come across.” This is how we gain humility and become empathetic towards others.

As I have mentioned many times before, I had a very serious issue with clinical OCD and anxiety. This is certainly one of the messes in my life that I have asked God to help me make a message. I will speak openly about all I went through to whomever needs to hear that they are not alone. Another trial that I experienced was when I was just a small child. Unfortunately, I was terribly bullied by some older girls who lived in my neighborhood. They did everything they could to make my life miserable, both at school and at home. They would torture me at the bus stop, wait for me in the hallways and bathrooms at school, or ambush me anywhere I went in the neighborhood. There was a ring leader, whose mother and my mother were coffee klatch friends, so we were together a lot.  I was recently told by my older sister that this girl used to beat on me while I was in my playpen. This went on for years, until the group of girls became teenagers and turned their attentions to the pursuit of boys and dating.

Thankfully, I was part of a large, very loving, close-knit family which offered some comfort, but the bullying still had a profound and lasting effect on me. Yes, I suffered from very low self-esteem as a result, but something else happened that I did not identify until years later. The situation made me tender hearted towards the underdog. In high school, I became the person who picked the so-called outcasts or shy kids when we had to pair off and do partner work. It was not something I did consciously; it was just automatic for me. Many years after that, while working in a K-8 school, I developed a true compassion and care not only for the child who was bullied, but also the bully. I was able to use my own story with the students to help them understand how hurtful and destructive their behavior was. The truth is, most of these kids were really just looking for love and understanding, much like the rest of us. There was one young man – who was in junior high at the time – who was tough on everyone around him. He was big for his age and had a lot of self-esteem issues thanks to his learning disorder, but he excelled in sports. Every time I witnessed any inappropriate behavior from him, instead of enacting something punitive, I pulled him aside and talked it through. He began to trust me, because I just would not let go of him or look the other way, as so many people in his life had done. I also noticed and encouraged him when I saw him express kindness or positivity towards others. He improved. Then one day I saw him slip up and treat someone cruelly. I pulled him aside and talked to him about my childhood and the bullying that I endured, and he was speechless. As he looked into my eyes, what I saw reflected back to me was saddens, for me and for all the kids he had treated poorly in the past. I had become the face of his victims, and that conversation changed him. In the months that followed, instead acting first and then looking around for my disapproving furrowed brow expression, I saw him pause more and more on his own and stop before he decided to inflict any pain. He began to learn how to joke in a good natured way, and laugh with people instead of at them. Glory be to God.

As for me and my journey, by the healing hand and grace of God, I was able to forgive the tormentors of my youth, and I have learned how to make my mess my message.