There was no way out. I had become her next victim. With one final kick, I was abandoned; left beaten, bruised, bleeding, disoriented, and confused; totally broken in spirit; rejected, shamed, and violated. Hope was gone.
The harsh tide of victimization had continually eroded the spirit that God had originally created in me, distorting my true identity—until I learned the truth.
We can attempt to bury the wounds of our pasts and try to convince ourselves that we’re “over it.” But until we’ve dealt with our wounds at the root, they will always be there, tormenting us, and negatively influencing our thoughts, decisions, and actions, which we pass on—generation to generation.
There’s true, lasting freedom for the captives. Our true identity is not defined by our experiences, others, and earthly things. Christ came to “bind up the brokenhearted” and “give beauty for ashes” (Isaiah 61:1-3 KJV)
