My demons and I are well acquainted with one another. We have grappled together for over half a century now. Some days I tell myself I have won a battle. But another always looms. And my losses have gradually taken their toll.
There are many times I have hated myself for failing yet again – for the very fact the scars of my abuse remain. Those are the most dangerous times, the dark mouth of hell yawning before me.
The temptation to give up, give in, can be inviting. But a light of hope continues to shine, constant if at times faint. It is the promise of Salvation.
We all have demons. Some of us drown our sorrows; some eat our loneliness or wrestle with other addictions that temporarily numb our pain; some simply despair.
That abuse victims have these sorrows, this loneliness, this pain – these physical, emotional, and spiritual scars in all their varied forms – is not a shameful thing. It is our struggle against them that matters.
I am likely to take my scars to the grave. But I know that is not the end for me.
There is a light shining from beyond the grave, a hope greater than my failures or my pain. That hope is Christ, the Light of the World. When my time at last comes, He will welcome me home.
“For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8: 38-39).
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