Church Goer to Rape Victim to Child of the King! (My Story: Whole)

Raised in the Church, but not Saved.

Despite attending church, Sunday school, Bible camps, Vacation Bible School, and youth groups regularly throughout my childhood, I was never really saved. 

This is my story— God’s story of how He saved me and how I came to know Him. 

I was born to two loving parents on November 13. Eleven days later I experienced infant baptism. From that point on, I attended church and Sunday school regularly.  In third grade I went to a special Sunday School class to earn my first Bible. We went through every book of the Bible and talked about a specific verses in each book. However, I can not tell you about any of them.

In fifth grade, I went through first communion class and received my first communion. I still have my special first communion cup that I used that day, but I can’t tell you anything else about that day.  Until I truly understood what communion symbolized, it never really mattered.

There are two things I clearly remember about growing up in the church. One was in sixth grade. My Sunday school teacher asked my class how we thought our parents would react if we were to be put in Mary’s shoes and be blessed a virgin mother. I knew without a doubt, my parents would believe me and they would still love and accept me. I think I was the only one in class that thought that way, and my teacher questioned my thoughts. 

My second memory was from confirmation classes in eighth grade. This meant on Wednesday nights, I had to attend confirmation class or participate in youth group weekly. This was not something I choose to do. What really truly was the importance of it, I don’t think I’ll ever know. I’m sure it wasn’t to memorize that memory verse for one week in order to win those SPAM sunglasses that we all coveted. (Which I did in fact win, probably wore them once, and have no clue now where they are, or what verse I ‘memorized’ to win them.) Regardless, I took the classes and on  October 28, 2001, I was confirmed. I remember the date because the date is written in the Bible, my grandparents MorMor and Papa gave me— and this date would be come significant later in life too. 

Aside from these memories there’s not much else I can tell you about growing up in the church, but I can tell you by that point in my life, I was just going through the motions. I was living life the way my parents wanted me to, not that way I wanted to. I was doing what I had to do to get by.

Hating God

Don’t get me wrong. I loved going to Bible camp and youth gatherings and teaching Sunday school. I felt alive at youth gatherings, being with other people in the church, worshipping the Lord. What amazing feelings! God was Awesome. 

But a fateful summer day changed all that. 

I was in 10th grade when I made my confirmation, and no longer a virgin. I had been someone who was going to save herself for her husband, for marriage — just like I was taught in church was God’s plan. Actually, I had no desire to have sex with anyone until my wedding night. However, I was someone who the boys at school never looked at and I had poor self-esteem. Mix this with access to the internet and I became someone who could easily be taken advantage of.  

I started looking for attention from boys in online chat rooms. Chris was an older boy and I liked his attention; I had found someone to “love” me. Someone to fill the empty spaces in my heart. Rather than turning to God and letting Him do that. 

Chris and I saw each other a few times, before that fateful summer day. I had lied to my parents about how I met him. I made up an elaborate story about how I had met him at an out of town volleyball match that they didn’t attend. They believed me, because I was a ‘good kid’ who did the right things, I didn’t get into trouble, and I hadn’t proven I couldn’t be trusted. 

That fateful day, my brother had a baseball game that just happened to be in Chris’ hometown. Well, of course I wanted to go! I talked my parents into letting me hang out with Chris instead of actually going to the baseball game. Chris took me back to his house where we weren’t supposed to go. He had a tent all set up—big plans it seemed. 

This should have been a big red flag and I should have bolted faster than any human being could have! But come on now, I was an overweight girl who was finally getting attention from—gasp—a boy! Besides, Chris knew my feelings about sex. He knew I was a virgin and I wasn’t ready. 

When I saw the tent in his yard, he told me it was there because he had spend the night out there. He figured we could just hang out in private, away from his brother. Say it with me—RED FLAG!

I should have been thinking, What in the world, girl! Get your fat butt of here! 

But I wasn’t. 

I believed him and I liked the attention he gave me.

We started kissing, honestly, I don’t remember much about him, but he was a terrible kisser. Like seriously terrible! I’m so sad that my first kiss was from him. One thing led to another and he started asking for more. This went on for more than an hour. Every time I answered no, he asked again. Finally. He got sick of asking and I got sick of hearing the question, and he talked me into it. 

He forced me into having sex. 

I lost my virginity that fateful afternoon.

At that point I was the only one who knew my secret. I felt all alone, and I started hating God. 

Because of growing up in church I had learned that God expected me to save myself for marriage.

I began to question, How could a God that expected me to save myself, put me in a situation where a boy would not hear my “no” as truly “no”; how could he just leave me there all alone? 

I’ll tell you how: God didn’t put me in that situation. I gave into the temptation from Satan. I look back now, and I know I was being a naive 15 year old girl, but that does not make what he did right either, but that does not mean I was asking for it, or that I deserved it. 

It also does not mean that I am dirty because of what happened to me. 

Sadly, the situation happened again. This time, Chris used the excuse “why can’t we do it again—we’ve already done it?” By this point. I was already hating myself and I didn’t understand what was going on with me, so he just let himself take over me. 

But finally I wised up and figured out this was not the boy I wanted to be sleeping with. I remember the day I broke up with him, I explained to him that he had raped me. He disagreed and I had to explain to him that, 'yes, because he forced me into having sex with him, he in fact had raped me.' At which point he fired back with “I should have poked a hole in the condom.” 

No God and No Attention

So there I was: 15 years old, no longer a virgin, no longer getting the attention I was seeking, and being told I should be pregnant.

So, of course I ran away from God, I mean, where else would a person go? 

To that guy who wants you to stay a virgin, yet doesn’t stop you from being raped? 

No way! I’m not stupid, I’m a smart 15 year old. 

I started withdrawing as much as I could from life without my parents figuring out something was up. I retreated to my bedroom to be alone. I stayed busy with school and activities. I still went to church, because that was the rule. I still taught Sunday school, I still went to confirmation class. These are things I HAD to do, or I would be in trouble with my mom and dad—and I didn’t need that. 

Six months later, my brother and I were walking to my car so I could take him to hockey, when I saw Chris’s car driving down our street. 

RED FLAGS WENT OFF ALL OVER!!!! 

For starters, Chris lived an hour and half away from my parent’s house. Secondly, my house was on a back, private road, there was no reason for Chris to be on that road because he didn’t know anyone else who lived there.

I told myself to stay calm. That it would be okay. My brother was there and Chris wouldn’t approach if I wasn’t alone. Only…I was going to be alone, after I dropped my brother off at hockey. I don’t remember what happened the drive to hockey or home from hockey. I just remember running inside as quick as I could.

 I HAD TO TELL THEM. 

They needed to know. 

If he was going to start showing up I needed protection. 

My mom was really upset with me and I remember that being the only time I had ever seen my dad cry. 

We went to the doctor the next day to check everything out and then I had to go see a psychologist. I found out the state had to press charges against Chris for statutory rape, because the age range between us was too large by only two months.  I would have to tell my story to someone else. Luckily, I was able to do it in a private room, with one person and a video camera. But now all my lies were coming back to haunt me. When I answered the question “How did you really meet Chris?” I saw the look of disappointment on my parent’s faces, and the look of my dad crying. I will never forget it. I hadn’t seen him cry before then, and the only time since I’ve seen him cry was on my wedding day. 

I survived that year. A few friends knew what I was dealing with, but most people didn’t. I never talked about it with anyone other than my parents, the police and my doctors. I never even talked about it with my brother. He knew, because I told my parents they could tell him, but I didn’t want to talk about it. This, however, was the first time I knew my brother truly loved me. My mom told me my brother did not handle it well—he said, “If I ever see Chris again, I will hurt him.” Those were his exact words, but what he said was way more graphic none loving words, but words that felt like a giant hug in my heart from my little pesky brother. 

Unfillable Void

Life continued on after my confession. However, I also continued to try fill the void in my heart. Later I found out this void was because I was missing a relationship with Jesus Christ, but I didn’t know that at the time. So instead of Christ, I found Tony.

 Tony was grand. He was a big tough guy with a sensitive side. I told him my story. I told him I wasn’t ready, and he held me while I cried. He helped me work through the pain. He even basically quoted my brother. So I felt I had a strong man that would protect me should Chris ever show up again. But no man can truly fill that void. I saw a future with Tony, so I started clinging to him like I should have been clinging to God. This pushed Tony away, right into another girl’s bed. 

Then I met Garrett. and found my way into his arms and his bed. Garrett wanted me and I wanted to be wanted.  So even though he tore me away from all my friends, and close family and my parents hated him, that really didn’t matter. At 17, I thought I knew it all and I found someone who wanted me for me.

I transferred colleges to one near Garrett, but within a month it was over. Sadly, it took Garrett threatening to kill himself for my attention for me to wake up and realize I was in another abusive relationship. Only this time it was emotional and mental rather than physical, but it was abusive nonetheless.

 One week later I met Ben. Oh man, did Ben make my heart flutter! We met online, in a chat room, as with all the men before. Only, this time was different. 

A Fresh Start

By this point in my life, I started to see that something was missing from my life. I could tell that these boys weren’t comforting anymore. After high school graduation I had stopped going to church unless it was with family—but only then to please them. But now I wasn’t quite so mad at God and had started missing Him. 

Soon after we met, Ben picked me up for our first date. Boy, was he cute. He held open doors for me: dorm doors, car doors; if it was a door, Ben was holding it open. This was October 28 (that’s a familiar date!) we went to Applebee’s, he paid and I was in Love. The last two boys, never had money, both had full time jobs, but no money for dates. 

Then, for our second date, Ben took me to church. 

Can you believe it? Here I was a “mad at God” girl going to Church—on a date. I had been feeling that void stronger than ever, so when Ben invited me to church, I said, “Yes!” What was there to lose? 

Ben and I attended church together as much as we could. And guess what? The void in my heart began to fill! I started reading the Bible. I started spending time in prayer, searching, asking questions, and learning. I soon realized that I had never truly accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I had never admitted to being a sinner and that I truly needed Him. 

October 28 is a significant day for me. It’s the day I was “confirmed” in my faith, and the day I met the man who would lead me to Christ. 

The day I saw my daddy cry for the second time, was the day Ben was waiting for me, at the end of the aisle, at the front of the Church, ready to become my husband and my forever partner. 

God had done a significant work in my life to bring me to this point where I trusted in Him for salvation and trusted in Him to fill my void. The wedding was beautiful. Our pastor shared the Gospel for the message, which was the most important thing to us besides our vows. 

Not Happily Ever After, but Better

It could be easy to think that after marrying Ben everything would be like a fairy tale. But that’s not really what happened for us—in fact it wasn’t even a fairy tale honeymoon. Or much of a honeymoon at all!

I like to make sure Ben knows we never got a real honeymoon. Even if we could redo it, later in marriage, it’s just called vacation. Here’s what happened…

On the plane from Minnesota to Texas, Ben asked me for the vomit bag. Before I knew what he wanted, I was covered.  We changed out of our puke covered clothes on our layover in Texas, but at the gate for our flight to Mexico, Ben got sick again, and threw up three more times. 

I was freaking out wondering what was going on with my new husband, should we be going to Mexico, what are we thinking? But Ben felt ready to go, so we boarded the plane. Sitting on the plane to Mexico, I looked over at ben and he was gray, about to pass out. I paged the flight attendant. Asked her if we could have a cold wash cloth, he wasn’t feeling good, he kind of felt like he was going to pass out. Flight attendant by day, nurse by night, she asked, “does he fly a lot, maybe he is just nervous?” My response, “Well, he is a pilot.” 

Instantly, a doctor and physician’s assistant sitting around us came to our aid. The flight attendant, knowing something wasn’t right, set in motion a gate return and had an ambulance called. At the emergency room, Ben was diagnosed with a stomach bug, and dehydration. 

We were not going to Mexico. We spent the first night of our honeymoon far from Mexico in a hotel room, that cost less than the room service we ordered.  We flew home the next day, but not together. I flew home and Ben had to use his original ticket back to Minnesota, as he was scheduled to go back to work right after our week in Mexico. Do you know anyone else who got to have dinner with JUST their in-laws on their honeymoon? Not my husband, just his parents. It was sweet and it is something we can laugh at now, but at the time, I was so angry. 

So our honeymoon was far from a fairy tale. All I can remember is wondering, why? Why, Lord, why?

Why did I not get to go on a honeymoon? After the stress of planning a wedding at a long distance and the stress of graduating and finding a real job, that was all I was looking forward to. I was so disappointed, I was so discouraged, I was so angry! I still don’t know why things happened the way they did. 

What I do know, is that God did not want us to go to Mexico, and he made sure we didn’t make it. 

But the marriage is more important than the wedding and honeymoon, right? That was no fairy tale right away either. As good as our relationship started by going to church and me coming to Christ, our marriage started differently.

Ben and I were surviving, getting along, doing things on our own and certainly not relying on God. Six months into marriage Ben lost his medical certificate—major thing a pilot needs to fly. When a pilot loses his medical certificate, he stops being able to work. Wow! Did we ever find ourselves in trial!

We were newly married, trying to figure out how to live with each other, and supporting ourselves. We were no longer being taken care of by our parents and we also no longer had two paychecks.  And my job didn’t even cover my student loan debt, let along our daily bills. 

How would this work? How could we survive? What should we do?

Notice the questions floating through our minds: They were asking how we would do it, not how He would do it. This was the first time I realized we weren’t relying on God in our marriage. We weren’t doing it right. This is the first time I remember turing to God—really turing to God. 

Continually Trusting God in Blessing and Strife

Eventually, like with most marriages, Ben and I desired to expand our family.  We tried and tried and tried. For six months we tried. I know that doesn't seem like a long time, but when 13 (yes, I counted one day) of your closest friends are all expecting or unexpectedly expecting, six months seems like forever.

I haven't mentioned before is that Ben already had a child when we got married. AB is a sweet, loving, innocent boy. AB’s mom is not in our life—we rarely hear from her even when we try contacting her. 

During this time of not being able to get pregnant, I was constantly reminded of how easy it was for AB’s mom to get pregnant and how easy it was for her to leave him behind. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to have a child grow inside of me and I would love them forever and ever—but for whatever reason I couldn’t get pregnant and she so easily could. It didn’t seem fair. Why was God doing this to me?

Are you noticing a pattern: When things go wrong I'd just jump to blaming God. 

So why wasn’t I getting pregnant? At 21,I was diagnosed with stage four endometriosis, along with it's evil twin Interstitial Cystitis. Luckily, my gynecologist was very proactive and said we would only have to try on our own for six months, then she would send us to a specialist. 

Six months came and went, and off to a fertility specialist we went. 

But, I began to see we were leaning on ourselves and the world for we wanted, so I decided to pray. Wherever I could find people willing to pray for me, I asked them to pray for I would get pregnant. I wanted a child of my own to connect with more than anything.  

Maybe to fill that void again? 

Test after test proved I also had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I wondered if this was God's way of getting back at me for having sex before marriage. I cried out to Him, in desperation for a child. I, of course, know now that God doesn’t get back at us. He doesn’t strike us down because of what we’ve done. If that was the case he wouldn't have sent his ONE AND ONLY child to die on a cross just so to strike us down. Instead, He sent His son to save us, because He loves us. We see this in the Bible, in the Book of John. 

 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him.  (John 3: 16-17 ESV)

Soon after I realized that God was not punishing me, but indeed he Love me, I started treatment for my PCOS, we were able to conceive a beautiful little girl!

 And oh, did the Lord know I would need a little girl. Don’t get me wrong—my son, AB, is amazing, but he is all BOY! He is a stinky, dirty, play with bugs and do sports type of boy. He won't sit and color with me, he won't cook with me, he doesn't enjoy doing girlie things with me. But, our daughter, EJ, is a tutu wearing, baby doll playing, girlie girl. In fact as I sit her typing this, she has: played doctor on me, colored me a picture and sat down next to me just to hang out. Okay, even though she is totally girlie girl, she totally adores her big brother and all that he does, she gets dirty right along with him, then realizes she is dirty and yells about it. The two together are quite the package for this momma. 

Every Season a New Chapter with God

Ben and I have now been married for five and a half years. AB is nine and EJ is two. We have recently uprooted our family and moved from the midwest to the south. We've had to rely more on God now then we have before as we don't have family here and we have a small, but growing, community of believers in our lives. 

This move is just another season in our life, but it has helped me to truly see God moving. He didn’t just start moving—He’s been moving ever since that I was born. Throughout my childhood of going to church and not really understating the Bible stories, verse, confirmation classes, and more. He was building a foundation for later. Throughout my teenage years of messing up, getting hurt, and being angry at Him, He was working it so that I’d eventually give Him my whole life. And throughout my early adult years he was also working so as a family we’d depend on Him in every good and bad situation. 

As you read my blog and watch me grow, I hope you will see him move in my life and in your life as well. Thank you for reading my story. Remember its not over, its just beginning of another chapter.

In Him

#warriorprincessKJ