Chapter One
DIARY OF
A BONDED HEART
My Story
Everyone has a story. I never knew that. I thought I
was the only one. For twenty-five years I never told
anyone my story, and no one told me theirs.
No one else could be this sinful, I told myself. Especially
not my Christian friends.
Week in and week out, I served in church with these dear
friends, prayed with them, socialized with them, and even
shared burdens with them in small groups. But no one told
me their secrets. So there weren't any, right?
Wrong. Everyone has a story. But no one is telling it.
That all changed when I began to tell my story. Suddenly
everyone was revealing their secrets with me-tales that
made mine seem less traumatic in comparison. I was amazed.
What keeps us silent? I began to wonder. Why can't we
be honest? And why now, when I open up, do others feel
comfortable doing the same?
I've discovered that keeping secrets is Satan's idea, and
being open and honest is God's. Doing it Satan's way means
wearing a mask every day, everywhere. God's way means we
can be real, open, and honest. All the time. Keeping secrets
isolates us from God and others and leaves us at the mercy of
Satan's condemnation, which further seals our silence, convincing
us that we must never share our secret.
Telling our stories breaks the grip of the secret, diffusing
its power. Exposing the secret makes it shrink, while hiding it
allows it to grow bigger and uglier. Keeping silent means we
bear the load alone. Opening up allows others to share our
burden, our pain, our shame. Silence inhibits healing; openness
facilitates it.
Every time someone shares their secret with me, I can't
help becoming excited for them, because I know they are taking
the first step towards healing. Not only do I have the
awesome privilege of offering God's grace and compassion-as
others did for me-but I get to relieve them of some of
their burden.
Patty wanted to meet me out on the dark, cold patio. It
was 10 p.m., and she had waited for over an hour. She was
about to share something with me that no one else knew.
She could hardly look me in the eye. As I held her hand,
she told me a gruesome story of pornography and homosexual
experimenting, all while she was married. At first she
was hesitant, but I saw her hope and confidence grow as she
realized that I was going to accept her anyway, even when I had
heard the worst. She hadn't intended to tell me everything-just
the vague basics. But God's grace through me gave her
the courage to get it all out-every last, ugly detail.
By the time we were finished talking and praying two
hours later, Patty had changed. She still had problems and a
lot of work to do before she'd be free of her invisible bonds.
But her countenance had changed. She looked more relaxed,
more at peace, and more hopeful. God had taken some of her
burden and taken it on Himself, and for the first time in
many years, Patty knew she wasn't alone. She had finally discovered
hope of forgiveness and healing.
Patty took the first step towards healing when she yielded
to God's Spirit, urging her to tell someone.
It wasn't very long ago that I took that same step. And as
God promised, He's proven faithful, working out complete
healing in my life.
You have a story. Maybe no one knows what it is, because
you haven't told it. The fact that you're reading this book
means that God has been tugging at your heart.
I'm excited for you. You're about to take the first step
towards something wonderful, something miraculous-the
burden-lifting, secret-shrinking, healing grace of God.
A Series of Unintended Events
I never planned for any of it to happen. Not like this. And
certainly not with him.
That was my problem right there-I didn't plan. I've
since heard that great line: "No one plans to fail; they fail to
plan." I can't think of a better description for my life.
I was raised in a Christian home in Canada, with a stay-at-home
mom and a Baptist pastor father. When I was seven,
I gave my heart to Jesus and began an incredible walk with
Him. As early as fourth and fifth grade, I began to share my
faith openly. I conspicuously brought my Bible to school and
kept it on my desk. In high school, I started a student Bible
study, and at fifteen began my public speaking experience at
a Christian summer camp. My relationship with God was
everything to me.
Then one day I chose to walk away from God.
I didn't mean to. I wasn't even aware that I was doing it.
In the fall of 1974 my parents planned to send my brother
to a Christian high school two provinces away. (Provinces
are the "states" of Canada.) It sounded like a fun adventure,
an opportunity to see beyond my tiny town-population
two hundred. I asked if I could go, too. My parents agreed.
And so off I went, full of enthusiasm and hope.
Ignorant of the consequences, I began to make some
choices that determined the direction of my life for the next
several years. I'm still not sure how it happened, but the love
and desire of my life was directed away from God and toward
a handsome young man. We met at a Christian school, so in
my clouded thinking I assumed he was God's choice for me.
I gave up everything for this man's love: my virginity, my
family, my home, my faith, and my morals. I began to travel
down a road that I had never imagined possible-a road that
would take me to the bottom.
After graduation, against my parents' wishes, I ran away
to be with my boyfriend. At first we lived together, and then
at the tender age of eighteen, we secretly tied the knot in a
little wedding chapel across the border in Idaho. As the
months went on, I began to regret what I had done and knew
that I had made a terrible mistake. So two years later, a humbled
and broken young woman found her way back home. I
was filled with regret for the pain I had caused my parents,
and shame for how my misguided relationship had started.
Under this unrelenting emotional burden, I bought into the
enemy's lie that I had already traveled too far down this road
to turn back. It was too late. No one, I thought, would accept
me now.
I wasn't expecting to feel so alone and empty after leaving
my husband. But rather than going to God-the only
One who could fulfill my need for love and intimacy-I
began to live a dual life. I lived one existence during the
week and another on Sunday. Six days a week, I tried to satisfy
my relational hunger in the arms of other men. I was
oblivious to the danger of my actions until the day I heard
the words, "You're pregnant."
A truckload of emotions slammed into me-fear, disbelief,
regret, denial. I could not have this baby. First of all, I
was a preacher's kid, accountable to a higher set of standards
than others. And I was still married, caught in a divorce
process that would take three years.
I had already broken my parents' hearts once. If they discovered
my pregnancy, it would devastate them all over
again. So it was "the pregnancy" that had to go.
After all, I reasoned half-heartedly, it's only a blob of tissue.
Right?
Right?
Isn't that what everyone said? Who was I to argue with
the experts?
So, one cold January day I had an abortion.
I put to death two people that day-my daughter and
myself. She was ushered into the presence of God, while I
sentenced myself to the deepest, darkest prison. There, every
moment for the next twenty-five years, I tortured myself in
payment for my crime.
I could go no lower. In my opinion there was nothing
worse than taking someone's life. I, a girl born in a Christian
family and raised according to Christian values, had just
committed murder.
Prison Life
Over and over in His Word, God has warned us not to have
sex outside of marriage. What is the big deal? I used to think.
Now I knew the answer from firsthand experience, and I
wished I could take it all back. Hindsight is painful. And so
is the futile speculation on what might have been. What have
I given up by being so reckless and self-centered? Where might I be
now if I had followed God's direction for my life?
But the scariest thought of all was that God would never be
able to use me . someone so sinful, so stained, so full of shame.
Looking back at the young, innocent girl I had been,
heading off for a fantastic adventure, I could see that I had left
my guard down. Without the supervision of my parents, the
accountability of my small group, or the biblical teaching
from my youth pastor, I was like a lamb trotting gleefully into
a pack of wolves. The wolves caught me off guard.
I hadn't planned to meet someone. I hadn't planned a
strategy regarding sex before marriage. I hadn't planned to
fail. I failed to plan.
I was young and immature, unaware that there was a real
enemy, and oblivious that he was calling my name.
Sometimes the enemy can be so attractive. But looking back,
his strategy was obvious: I was young and far from home,
hungry for friends, with easy, unsupervised access to my
boyfriend all day, every day. Add to that the illusion of head-over-heels
love with the man I was convinced was the one.
And there I was. Vulnerable. An easy target.
It's not as though God wasn't trying to get through to me.
He was, loud and clear. But I had turned down the volume
on my spiritual radio. Each time I ignored Him, my heart
grew a little harder. I rationalized that I had chosen a great
"Christian" guy, and we were at a Christian school. This had
to be heaven-sent, divinely sanctioned.
Didn't it?
I've since learned that when we turn the volume down-when
we harden our hearts to God's voice-we are capable ofanything. I'm humbled to say that I proved that shameful
truth myself.
Solitary Confinement
Eventually, four years after coming home, I met and married
a wonderful man, had four children, and began a new life.
But I lived perpetually in my self-made prison of pain
and shame. Every day I exacted a price from myself in payment
for my sins. My punishment took on many forms, all
fueled by this one thought: I will never again be good enough. I
was shackled by a constant striving to do and be whatever it
might take to feel good enough.
As a prisoner, I became shy and defensive against perceived
unjust accusations. I frequently lashed out at my
family and friends. To compensate for my lack of self-worth,
I put on an air of self-sufficient confidence and perfection. To
keep anyone from figuring out my strategy-because then I'd
have to reveal the truth-I closed myself off from my husband
and friends.
Just last year God showed me that I have never truly been
close and intimate with anyone. I had so isolated myself that
I didn't even know my own feelings. I became judgmental
and adopted unrealistic expectations of others. And I suffered
from anxiety and depression.
As a mom, I was overprotective and controlling. I was
afraid of two things: that my kids would one day find out
about my past and that they might then follow in my footsteps.
In fact, I was so afraid of being found out that I spent
my life constantly hiding, protecting myself. My paranoia
sucked the life out of me and everyone close to me.
It was a horrible way to live, and yet I became used to it.
When I managed to back far enough into denial, my life actually
seemed enjoyable. No one looking at me knew the
intense struggle going on inside. I was an expert at accessorizing-choosing
the perfect mask for each social occasion.
The irony was that I felt I needed to do this so that people
would like and accept me. But instead I intimidated them
and kept them at arm's length. It was a vicious cycle. And it
wasn't working.
In Isaiah 61:1, the Messiah says, "He has sent me to bind
up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners." The Hebrew word
for "the prisoners" can be literally translated "the blind." The
blind don't know it's dark because they can't see. This was
me-living in the hell of darkness, but not even aware of it.
I had asked God to forgive me several times. I knew then
as I know now that when we ask for forgiveness, God forgives.
So why didn't I feel forgiven? Why couldn't I forgive myself?
Why, whenever I thought about my past, was I overcome with
shame . the worst kind of shame . the kind that propels you
further into the prison of emotional isolation and secrecy?
When I least expected it, with sudden force the shame
would slam into me. I'd be listening to talk radio in the car
and the topic would be abortion. But the story always went
like this: "Yes, I had an abortion, but then I became a
Christian." What I heard was, "A real Christian wouldn't find
herself in this position." Wham!
I'd be having fun with friends, and someone would share
the perfect story of saving herself sexually for marriage, meeting
Mr. Right, and living happily ever after. No regrets. Wham!
I'd be sitting in an adult Sunday school class, watching a
video on abortion, convincing myself that I could handle it
this time. After all, it had been so long ago. But I always ran
out sobbing. Wham! Wham!
Or worst of all, I'd be lying in bed at night, with the
enemy whispering in my ear: Look at your twins, born premature
and disabled. It's entirely your fault!
Wham! Wham! WHAM!
The Day the Sun Shone In
My story does have a good ending. A great ending, in fact.
I failed to plan. But God didn't. In His perfect time and in
His perfect way, He interrupted me one day to redirect me
toward a new, better plan for my life. I guess God knew I was
stuck and needed a little push in His direction. So one day
He moved our family from our home in Canada to California
where we knew no one. Ouch! All I had was Him.
I love God's attention to detail. After twenty-five years, He
took me 2,500 miles away to a place where He could get my
attention. And He got it. I began a new relationship with
God. In California, I couldn't rely on my old way of doing
things-even with God. And so for the first time in my life, I
began to slowly surrender everything to Him, allowing Him
to thaw my frozen heart.
In Psalm 118:5, David says, "In my anguish I cried to the
LORD, and he answered by setting me free." One day, from
deep within my prison cell, I literally cried out to God in
anguish. The first thing He did was shine His light into my
dungeon. In that moment, I saw clearly the sad, dingy reality
of my existence up to that point. I saw the truth. I had sentenced
myself there for life, but God had come to set me free.
I'm so thankful He was there, listening for my feeble cry.
He never gave up on me. He had waited for me to ask, waited
for me to accept, not only His forgiveness, but His complete
healing as well.
And wouldn't you know it? The first thing He made me
face was my abortion. From there we dealt with the sexual
promiscuity, the divorce . every last shameful bit of my
prodigal detour.
It was time for healing. My journey to freedom was about
to begin.
Hope for Anyone
What are you trying to hide? What secrets are locked away in
your closet? Sexual promiscuity? Abortion? Abuse? Rape?
Homosexuality? Addiction?
Did reading my story spark any painful emotions or
memories? Were you able to relate to my prison, my pain,
my shame?
Maybe you're wondering what a sexually bonded heart
looks like and whether you have one. Maybe you're asking
the heartfelt question I hear so often: "How can I break my
sexual bonds?"
If so, then keep reading. I've got some great news just for
you.
(Continues.)
