During a recent prayer ministry session, I had a breakthrough that left the little girl in me in awe. Even though the adult in me knew that God had used the miracle of dissociation as a way to protect me from unbearable extreme abuse, the little girl in me continued to have doubts and fears. Even though I knew I had parts of me who were afraid of being alone with God or Jesus, I wasn't quite prepared to face the little girl in my session and hear her voice that said, "Jesus abandoned me."
Here's the beautiful part – Jesus spoke to her. His words were simple, yet they shook my world. He told her, "When you had to leave your body, I didn't leave you. You had to leave and abandon yourself, but I was there."
Can you imagine? All this time, I thought I was alone in those moments of terror. But Jesus was there, witnessing, hurting with me, loving me even when I couldn't feel it.
In reconnecting with the little girl inside me who endured so much and with God who's been waiting for me all along there's a slow warming up process and bittersweet symphony of joy and grieving.
The Pain of Reconnection
Connecting with this little girl in me has been one of the most painful realizations of my life. She feels abandoned by me, and somehow, that transfers to feeling abandoned by God. It's a complex web of emotions – guilt, fear, anger, and a deep, aching loneliness.
But as I've started to reconnect with her, I'm learning that she holds the key to a closer relationship with God. It's like she's been waiting all this time, holding onto a pure, untainted connection with the Divine that I thought I'd lost forever.
The Enemy's Tactics
Here's where it gets tricky, and where I've come to recognize the enemy's handiwork. Satan uses this disconnect – between me and my little girl, between us and God – to keep us isolated and afraid. He whispers lies: "God hates you," "He wanted those awful things to happen," and "You can't trust yourself" and "You can't trust Him."
And oh, how those lies took root. The abuse I suffered was a purposeful calculated attempt to destroy my concept of a loving God. How could I trust in a God when people posing as Jesus did such horrific things? That little girl in me believed it down to my core at the most visceral deep gut level place inside me. This disconnect from myself – from the little girl who was hurt – became a chasm between me and God.
The Sweet Surrender
But here's the miracle – as I've started to let go, to surrender my need to protect this little girl, I've found God waiting with open arms. In my prayer session, Jesus spoke to her so gently, so lovingly. It was a sweet surrender, opening more fully to Him than I ever thought possible.
I'm learning that the distance I've felt from God is directly related to the disconnect from my little girl self. They go hand in hand. The dissociation came first, a survival mechanism that God Himself built into us. But then came the dissociated disconnect from the Lord, a painful but unintended consequence.
A New Understanding
This realization has been freeing. I don't have to blame myself anymore for the lack of connection or closeness I've felt with God. The protection I've been doing all these years wasn't a shameful character flaw – it was survival. And God understands that better than anyone.
Now, as I connect with the little girl in me, I'm finding that she has an amazing capacity for connection with God when she's not scared. It's like rediscovering a part of myself that never lost faith, even when the rest of me couldn't hold on. She peeks out from beneath the protective shell that we have put around her that is no longer needed but she still doesn't quite grasp that the war she fought trying to protect herself is over and she can actually let go and let God do what He does best --love and protect her.
The Journey Ahead
This journey of reconnection is ongoing. Some days are harder than others. Sometimes the fear creeps back in – fear of God as an authority figure, fear of punishment, fear of not being good enough. But I'm learning to sit with these fears, to let them be heard, and to gently challenge them with the truth of God's love.
I'm not alone in this journey. Talking with other Christian friends who've experienced trauma, I've found we're all having similar revelations. We're learning together that the path back to God often leads through the very parts of ourselves we've tried so hard to leave behind.
As I continue this journey, I'm filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. But more than anything, I'm thankful. Grateful for a God who waits patiently, who speaks gently to the scared little girl in me, and who's helping me piece together the parts of myself I thought were lost forever.
This isn't a neat, tidy process with clear steps and guaranteed outcomes. It's messy, it's painful, but it's also beautiful.
It's a journey of rediscovery – a path that leads back to all the parts of myself, to God, and to a love that has always been present, even in moments when I felt most alone. Finding myself had to happen because the disconnect from myself was so thorough through purposeful dissociation that parts of me were walled off from each other. The path to God has not been the traditional "learn that God loves you" and "go to Him" type of spiritual journey. At one time it was thinking I had to go to church every Sunday morning and every Sunday night, Monday morning prayer and Thursday night bible study while parts of self were cringing in fear when hearing bible verses that had been used during my abuse. Then stepping back and taking a break from going to church to find the difference between religion with condemning rules and finding true relationship based on learning about the God who was different than those who abused me. It has been taking steps towards Him, and then some parts retreating in fear, taking steps inward to find my multiple parts and finding God was there. I was trained to only look externally and do what I was told, to not look within where I had to evacuate. I was conditioned to not have my own thoughts, emotions, to not live fully in my body and to think that parts of me were dead, and that Jesus had already returned but not for me. I realize now that in my struggle to survive, I had distanced myself from my own essence, but God had never once abandoned me. His love remained constant, a steady light even when I couldn't see it. This journey of surrender is not just about letting go, but about reconnecting with the truth of God's unwavering presence in my life.
I was never truly alone. God's love has been my constant companion all along, gently guiding the multiple "me's" back to wholeness.
I've come to realize that God, in His infinite wisdom and compassion, is the ultimate Gentleman. He never forces His way into our lives but patiently waits, His love unwavering. All this time, He's been there, loving the scared little girl inside me, the littles that were so afraid, knowing that one day I'd be ready to find not just Him, but also my true self.
This journey of surrender has become a path of rediscovery – of the love that never left, of the God who never abandoned me, and of the strength that was always within me, waiting to be embraced.
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