Because of My Scars - Guest Blog by Adelee Russell

"I can’t help the thoughts that come that say you could do so much better than me...that you could probably find someone out there who would be a much better wife and a much better mother to your kids…"

Hot tears rolled down my cheeks as I typed out the message. Heavy emotions sunk to the pit of my stomach as I pressed send. Followed by sheer terror. Did I just blow it? Is this when he finds out I'm too much of a mess and gives up on me?

Why did that thought give me relief? The idea of not having to try anymore. Not having to delve deeper into the healing process. I could escape. I could hide away. In that moment part of me wanted to be alone forever... because at least then I wouldn't have to feel the searing pain of the wounds etched across my broken, bleeding heart.

"Sometimes it’s just a war on the inside of my heart I don’t have the strength to put it into words..." I had tried to explain earlier in the message. "I wish I didn’t have to say the word ‘suicide’ whenever anybody asks about my dad... I wish I didn’t have to say I have no idea how to be a mom or a wife. I wish I didn’t always feel ashamed and abnormal. I wish I wasn’t always tempted to run the moment I get closer to the possibility of having a family of my own..."

The words were raw and they poured onto the page before I could stop them. The enemy was having a field day on my heart. I hadn't felt emotions like this since the really intense season of healing years ago when God transformed my life. I thought I was done with these struggles. But months after entering into a serious relationship, old wounds began to surface. Being in a relationship forced me toward yet another level of healing. And in that moment it hurt more than words could express.

The thing was, my circumstances were fine. Great even. But my heart was a war-torn battlefield. Insecurities resurfaced. Old patterns of self-loathing and lies I thought I'd never fall prey to again. Fears paraded themselves around my mind. The biggest of all? That I was my father's daughter...

My father was a broken man. He had hurts and lies raging inside of him almost every day of his life. And he kept it to himself. He never got help. He never brought them to God. And his family suffered dearly because of it.

I have an incredibly loving mother. She is selfless and nurturing, and compassionate. But not even a mother's love can rebuild what the hand of a father tore down.

There's something about the role of a Father that's intimately entangled with our sense of identity. Even our names are tied to our fathers in most parts of the world. In Iceland the majority of people's last names are the names of their fathers, plus daughter or son. So if my father's name had been John, my last name would be (translated) Johnsdaughter. My father's name--and the connection between us-- would become my identity in society.

We see something similar in the Bible. Read through the genealogies and you'll find sentence after sentence of sons and daughters identified primarily by their fathers.

There is something about the role of a Father that was designed to point us toward our Heavenly Father. Just like marriage is a picture of how Christ loves the church, the role of the father is supposed to be a picture of our Heavenly Father's love, and the identity we have in Him because of that love.

But human beings are incredibly flawed. And sometimes, instead of the father role being something that builds us up and fortifies our identity, it often shatters us instead. My earthly father's brokenness left me feeling damaged. Like I was worthless. Like I could never measure up. And these lies seemed to seep into every area of my life.

God has taught me how to fight. He's taught me how to rely on His power and love and use His truth to defeat the lies. But sometimes when I'm weak the lies feast on my heart once again. I'm scared that I will become my father's daughter. I'm afraid his brokenness will preprogram me for failure.

Throughout the healing journey I've learned that many of the things I struggle with, my dad also struggled with. It gives me compassion towards him but sometimes it scares me to death. What if I become like him? What if I walk down the same treacherous path?

My dad was success driven. When the responsibility of children came between him and the success he longed for, his own worth was shattered, and hatred and anger spewed out where love could've been. What if I fall into the same trap? What if I resent my own kids because they come between me and my dreams? What if I wish they'd never been born? Like my dad told me he wished I'd never been born? What if I mess them up? What if I hurt my spouse the way my dad hurt my mom? What if I abandon them all like my dad abandoned us?

As the lies swirled around in my head the voice of my Heavenly Father spoke. He reminded me of the words He spoke at my father's grave all those years ago... I asked Him for a reason to hope, and He said: "Because this broken man in the ground is not your father. I am. The legacy of brokenness has been swept away. In Me you have a legacy of victory and freedom. Because of My Son Jesus, you have become My child, and as such, you have been given power–the very power that raised my Son from the dead–to choose a better way of life; to choose Me.”

I knew that was the truth, but my heart still stung. I tried so hard to grasp it, but sometimes truth has trouble materializing into the tangible world where emotions often rule.

I dreaded Chris' response. What would it be? Was it the end? Was I too screwed up to try this whole relationship thing anyway? But then he texted me and asked if we could Skype. So I tried to wipe away the tear streaks on my cheeks and I called him. We talked. He was gentle. He was kind. He guided the conversation with all the skill of a seasoned pastor.

Then he said something I'll never forget. After I'd poured out all the reasons I feared I wouldn't be good enough "wife and mother material," he said that even though somedays I may feel like I have nothing to offer, I have the most important thing. He said he was in awe of my relationship with God, my intimacy with Him. The intimacy that came because of the hardships I'd been through. Because of my scars. Because of the healing journey I had been on with God.

He said he wouldn't want anyone else to be his wife or the mother of his kids. Because having that relationship with God is the most valuable thing I could ever bring into a marriage relationship and the most valuable thing I could ever offer to and teach my kids.

I was blown away. And I fell in love with him even more. And with the God who'd brought him into my life. It reminded me of something author Jim Daly once said. He said that God is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), and that nearness turns to intimacy with God. That intimacy leads to strength, and that strength can become an incredible gift. He said although we often look at our scars and see ourselves as damaged goods, those scars--surrendered to God--can become something of infinite value. And instead of feeling damaged, we can actually bring something incredibly valuable to the table.

God is not far from any of us. But when someone's heart is breaking He draws near to them in a way that cannot be explained. Every hurting soul has the opportunity to allow God into that painful place with them. And when they do, He heals their wounds and He speaks peace and truth and love and comfort to their hearts in ways they never forget.

Our scars can overwhelm us and set us down a self-destructive path... Or they can draw us closer to God. They can become the foundation of an intimate relationship with our Heavenly Father. They can become a beautiful testament of God's love and power.

I believe God loved my dad. I believe God pursued him. I believe God gave him the opportunity to choose. I wish my dad had chosen to draw near to God in his struggles. I wish he could've experienced how deep and how wide God's love for him was.

Often those with scars feel like damaged goods. But on the contrary, if one brings their scars to God, He will heal them and turn them into a valuable part of their story. One that can impact others and lead them to Him. And that is the greatest calling and legacy we could ever ask for.