<p>“Renee, if it were not for the sovereign will of God, you would be in a mental hospital for the rest of your life!”</p>
<p>My psychologist made this statement about 30 years ago during a counseling session. A few years earlier, I had a nervous breakdown, coming to the darkest point of my life. I had been in and out of mental health facilities several times. That day, the words hit me hard—in two ways. I’ll explain more in a minute. </p>
<p>First, I knew I had been broken because of the abuse I had suffered, but I did not realize that it was so severe until he made that statement. For me, it was just my life up to that point. I knew nothing else. </p>
<p>The second revelation would start me on the second part of my journey to wholeness. I knew in that moment that God had a plan for my life, and now I had a reason to work hard to recover.</p>
<p>Fast forward thirty years. Over the past three decades, God did—and continues to do—an amazing work in my life. Through faith in the name of Jesus, I have experienced spiritual and emotional healing. I have learned how to be “me.” I have learned more about who and what God is and how He wants to work in the lives of those who will let Him. The journey is not finished, but I continue daily trying to walk in the grace and knowledge of God as He reveals Himself to me and grants me understanding and wisdom.</p>
<p>The Back Story</p>
<p>I grew up in a family that attended church whenever the doors were open. My father was the chairman of the deacons, and everyone looked to him for wisdom. The problem was that at home, he was a very quiet, withdrawn man who only spoke when angry—and that was most of the time. I was afraid of him most of my life.</p>
<p>The only positive thing from my early church experience was that I heard God’s Word preached at an early age—the thing that probably saved my life in more ways than one. Even though I was a Christian, nobody taught me how to make Jesus real in my life. A genuine Christian life was not something I saw modeled. Still, God was watching over me, and the seeds would one day sprout into a vibrant faith for healing and restoration.</p>
<p>The Lost Child</p>
<p>Psychologists talk about the different roles children play in a dysfunctional family. There is the hero, the clown, the lost child, and the scapegoat. The lost child becomes invisible and gets lost in the shuffle. That was me, “The Lost Child.” I grew up in an emotional vacuum. I never remember getting hugs or kisses from anyone or hearing the words, “I love you.” </p>
<p>I didn’t know anything was wrong until I married at 20 years old. I began to see other couples who were affectionate and loving with each other. I started to wonder why my marriage was different. I had been married for several years when I realized something was very off between my husband and me. I knew I wasn’t happy but had no idea why.</p>
<p>I began to talk to a counselor at church, and the term “codependent” was discussed. I began to attend a class at the church that discussed healthy relationships. I started to realize how emotionally deprived I had been in my life and that what I had been living with was not what a healthy, happy family was supposed to be. I used to see people who were happy and doing well in life, but didn’t understand why they were different. They seemed to be thriving even if they were not Christians. I began to understand a healthy relationship and how emotionally healthy parents were supposed to raise their children. I saw the problem in my marriage. I also started to understand the brokenness in my life. The enormous emotional vacuum I was living in.
