My Mother Doesn’t Know

I am 29 years old female who is married. My friends here may not know my past and my story but I am ready to talk.  The culture of silencing has put a lid on our vocals and killed our spirits, forcing us to shut up and be still, just because we are women.


My mother doesn’t know my past and I can not expect her to predict my future but I love her dearly, she does not know why I was rebelling, she doesn’t know why I was silent and neither can she fathom why I became loud.  I guess life happened.

I met God on my way to destruction, not to Damascus and He changed my name.

I was really a rebel and I am ready to rebel again.

In school, I was bullied, teased and ostracised. No wonder why I still struggle mentally.

I joined the church and instead of understanding they added to my hurt and it has become a burden. So, they added burden to burden, instead of ridding me of the burden. They have insulted me because they couldn’t understand me. I look for people within the church but only found a few. The truth is God did not call me to church, He called me to himself and that He himself could be my healer and deliverer and friend. He called me to Himself “that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His suffering”.



The beauty of the church is this, they will have to be there to buffet us, to force us to be better and to force the best out of us. They will have to drag us through the mud just like they did to Christ Jesus. What I had to learn was that people are still people even being Christians. I had to learn that when I came to Christ, I myself was and still is flawed. I can not expect people to be perfect and treat me the best when I myself have illegal thoughts according to the standard of holiness.  Therefore, I cannot be blaming the church for their actions.

I do blame the perpetrators of the crimes they committed against me. The ones that used their weapons as a shield or their position as a cloak. I blame the ones who used their titles to inflict pain and turned my emotions into games. I blame you!! yes, I do. I blame you!.

I blame you because you knew, I blame you because you stayed silent, I blame you for your manipulation and mind-control, for your involvement in my body patrol. I blame you because you ignored the hurt, you are afraid to discuss these issues that affect me but are quick to judge my reaction to problems. I blame you for hating me when someone loves me. I blame you for teaching me I was never good enough, even when my mother kept telling me I was. I blame you for allowing this pain to settle, never ever thinking that I would have known how you pushed my feelings aside. You tried to l keep me busy so I wouldn’t have to think about it. Although, that was not really it. It was because I had skills, I had talent so you used those gifts to better position yourself. Maybe you couldn’t understand the circumstances, maybe.

Maybe you couldn’t understand the circumstances, maybe you couldn’t understand the pain, maybe you couldn’t understand the experiences, but I believed it was your duty to try,  your duty to help me to find help.  But Oh, I am happy now that you didn’t ask what was wrong or how you could help. Because now only God can get the glory only He can celebrate with me truly, only He can say I assisted, changed, opened doors, healed, delivered, comforted and ministered.

While I trusted you, I know that If my mother knew she too would be rejoicing with me at a day to come.



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