Archive for the ‘Sexual Abuse’ Category

!C//SEXabuse week wrap-up

By Dan King

Dang… I thought #ICSEX Porn Week was tough…

But this issue of sexual abuse was more difficult that I could have imagined. I’m still in shock at some of the stories and perspectives that I’ve read. If I could give an online version of a standing ovation to those who shared this week, then I will be the first one on my feet.

During #ICSEX Sexual Abuse Week, people shared some very personal stories that simply broke my heart… in many different ways.

Here’s the weekly round-up of contributions:

  • The Weight of Sexual Abuse
    Heidi Bylsma talks about the abuse she experienced as a child at the hand of her father, and how it manifested itself in weight problems.
  • Childhood Sexual Abuse
    Carole Turner shares her experience as a child, and how it left her feeling dirty, shameful, and scared.
  • How Sexual Abuse Affects Us Today
    Mary DeMuth talks about her abuse by other young boys when she was only five years-old, and how she found healing and comfort in a loving God.
  • #ICSEX: Sexual Abuse
    Seiji Yamashita discusses the perceptions that many of us have of others… until we realize the source of their behavior.
  • Control-Issues
    Sarah Markley opens up about the fears of a parent, and needing to trust that God will protect our little ones.
  • !CSEX: Let’s Talk About Sexual Abuse
    Evelyn Fazzio Chaisson focuses on healing power of prayer for victims of sexual abuse.
  • Sexual Abuse – A Man’s Story
    Chris Goforth shares his story of abuse as a boy, and how it rattled so many aspects of his life for many years to come.
  • Behind the Numbers of Sexual Abuse
    Dan King (me) takes a look at the numbers showing how widespread of an issue this really is, and challenges people to look at dealing with the root before it escalates into actual abuse.
  • Carry Them Gently
    Cheryl Smith interviews a close friend who is victim of childhood sexual abuse. This post has some great insight into the heart and mind of the victim, and some amazing resources and advice for other victims.

And there were a couple others talking sex on their blogs this week, but not directly related to sexual abuse:

  • Talking About Sex
    Deidra Riggs discusses how it should be normal for people to talk about sex, and how many often shut down or avoid conversation on ‘such topics’.
  • Let’s Talk About Sex: Incredible Sex in Marriage
    Amber Haines has a guest blogger who discusses what ‘healthy’ looks like as it relates to sexuality, and how sex is (and should be) a beautiful thing.

Let’s keep this conversation going… Which of these posts impacted you the most? Why? What other perspectives on sexual abuse do you think are important to share/consider?

Coming up next: Gender – Week beginning Sunday, August 8th
What does it mean to be a man? Or a woman? Society today would give a large variety of definitions and events that it takes to ‘become a man/woman’. This discussion will focus on defining gender identity and roles, but can also cover factors that may prompt confusion about what it means to be a certain gender. We also want to discuss gender roles in the church. If you’re interested in participating in this conversation, then let us know in the comments or contact @bibledude on Twitter.

Are you enjoying this conversation? Then consider coming to !C//SEX Las Vegas on 9.27.10. Register now!

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Behind the Numbers of Sexual Abuse

By Dan King

We’ve heard the stories about the damage of sexual abuse. And others have shared about our attitudes towards victims of abuse. So it’s easy to imagine that Sex Abuse Week with The Idea Camp blogging series has been a tough one for lots of people involved.

But I want to look at this issue from a different angle… That of the offender (or the would-be offender who hasn’t acted on their impulses yet).

Why?

Prevention.

Ministry to victims is extremely important, but will always be a challenge that church faces as long as their are men (and women) out there who are struggling with urges that they feel they can’t talk about.

First, let’s take a look at why I’m thinking about this right now…

Good people don’t just wake up one day and say, “I’m think that I’ll sexually abuse someone today.” We must consider what this behavior escalates from, and often porn addiction is where it starts.

During #ICSEX Porn Week, we saw some pretty staggering numbers about porn usage. It clearly shows a problem of epidemic proportions.

Then this week we’ve seen stories about everything from sexual acts being performed near their ‘target’ all the way up to fathers doing the unthinkable to their daughters. What seems apparent to me is that there’s an escalation in behavior that likely starts with something much more ‘harmless’, but always seeking more…

Now let’s take a look at a few of the numbers related to the prevalence of sexual abuse (Source: darkness to light):

  • 1 in 4 girls is sexually abused before the age of 18.
  • 1 in 6 boys is sexually abused before the age of 18.
  • 1 in 5 children are solicited sexually while on the internet.

These numbers indicate that the problem is pretty widespread. It means that in my son’s class at school, there are likely 3-4 classmates that he interacts with every day that are (or will soon be) victims. What’s even more disturbing is the secrecy that shrouds it…

  • Evidence that a child has been sexually abused is not always obvious, and many children do not report that they have been abused.
  • Over 30% of victims never disclose the experience to ANYONE.
  • Young victims may not recognize their victimization as sexual abuse.
  • Almost 80% initially deny abuse or are tentative in disclosing. Of those who do disclose, approximately 75% disclose accidentally. Additionally, of those who do disclose, more than 20% eventually recant even though the abuse occurred.

And while many are often afraid that a stranger will do something to our children, the evidence shows that it’s usually much closer to home…

  • 30-40% of victims are abused by a family member.
  • Another 50% are abused by someone outside of the family whom they know and trust.
  • Approximately 40% are abused by older or larger children whom they know.
  • Therefore, only 10% are abused by strangers.

Considering how widespread (1) the number of victims are, (2) the close proximity of offenders, and (3) the epidemic levels of porn addiction, it’s not a stretch to come to the following conclusion.

We ALL know someone who is secretly struggling with these urges and temptations.

There’s probably someone in your family, at your job, and/or sitting next to you in church that is trying to fighting these temptations. Odds are that some of you reading this right now are dealing with these thoughts and desires.

And I’m sure that every one of these people know exactly how wrong it is. But shame and embarrassment prevents them from ever telling another person about what they’re dealing with.

If we’re going to have any chance at ‘fixing’ this problem of sex abuse, then we not only need to help heal the victims of these acts, but we also need to provide a safe place for people to share the secret things that they are fighting inside.

I know that this may sound strange, but I believe we need to find a way to have the same kind of compassion for potential offenders that we do for victims.

What do you think? How can we (as the church) effectively deal with the root of this problem of sexual abuse?

Originally posted at bibledude.net.

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Control-Issues

By admin

Written by Sarah Markley.

I learned a long time ago that I can’t control everything in my life.

The more people I love, the more things I gather around me, the deeper I fall into them. And the irony is that it becomes less and less possible to control anything.

I can “train up” my children, but in the end, they have to make their own choices. I can be the best wife, but it still is up to my husband whether he hurts me or not.

If I have learned one thing, it is that I AM NOT IN CONTROL.

Oh, I try to be. I can do all that I can to protect my children. Put them in helmets and seatbelts and bandaids. But bad things happen.

Little girls fall of horses and break their necks. Somebody gets into a car after they’ve had too much and broadsides a mini-van. Or someone we trust may, in fact, be untrustworthy.

The Idea Camp bloggers are writing about sexual abuse this week. And honestly, I can’t write from personal experience. I can’t. I vowed a long time ago to NOT write about anything or try to SPEAK about anything that I don’t have something experiential to say.

But I can write about fear.

I can say that I am scared for my daughters. For things and places that I cannot control. I have to come to terms with the fact that the hearts and bodies of my children are outside the realm of my control.

Things are different now than they were when I was a little girl. Or when my parents were 8 and riding their bikes down to the lake or a friend’s house.

No one was afraid.

Not like they are now and not like I am now. I won’t let my girls play in the front yard without me. You might call me overprotective or too-careful, but what other option do I have?

I have two little girls — one who will be developing very soon but both too small and too young to protect themselves.

I can look at the website and find the sex-offenders in my neighborhood. I can look down the street and wonder about the house full of just-guys at the corner and wonder what they do behind their doors. Or I can just keep them inside for the rest of their lives…

But I do know what abuse does to people. I’ve listened to their stories. And if the thought ever crosses my mind during a weak moment of that

insane

panicked

fear of a mother

I can’t fathom the thought of one of my little ones being subjected to something so horrible.

Because all of it is out of my control. All of it.

And the older they get, the more minor freedoms I must give them. I must. It is essential to their development. Every. Single. Time. I let each of them do something else, push another boundary, it just kills me.

The only thing that I can control is how much I trust God. How much I trust Him. And if abuse, God forbidding, becomes part of the Story of one of my daughters, then so be it.

I have to trust God with them.

I have to trust God with them.

I have to.

What about you? Do you trust God with your children? Is it possible to protect them from everything?

Originally post at sarahmarkley.com.

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Childhood Sexual Abuse

By admin

Written by Carole Turner.

This is a condensed excerpt from the book I’m writing about my life.

I put this very hard to write part of my life out here because I believe part of true healing for the victims of sexual abuse is to speak out, tell your story, don’t let fear keep you from that freedom. Don’t let the devil use what you leave unsaid, what you keep secret, to destroy the rest of your life…he likes secrets, he works in the darkness of shame and isolation. But Jesus says, “no, we will use this for good, she will over come and her story will help others”. I pray this helps someone speak up.

——————————-

One night my step dad Donny came home late. He turned on the dining room light and it woke me up because it shined right into my room, on my bed, like a spot light. When I opened my eyes from the glare of the light, I saw that he was walking around naked. I quickly closed my eyes and covered my head with the blanket. Yuck, I thought. No nine year old girl wants to be awakened suddenly by a bright light showing their naked step dads butt!

I started to doze off again now that my head was covered and the light was not in my eyes any longer. I don’t know how much time passed but I must have uncovered my head while sleeping because I was awaken by an unfamiliar noise. When I opened my eyes my step dad was masturbating right at the side of my bed, right in front of my face. I quickly closed my eyes certain that I was dreaming. I wasn’t even sure of what I was looking at….I wanted to vomit but I laid there very still hoping and praying he would go away. He did.

When I woke up in the morning I was very confused. I thought maybe I had been dreaming…I really don’t know how often this happened. I think maybe only one to three nights and now they are all jumbled together in my memory.

…One of those nights I heard him in the dining room again and I could tell he had turned the light on. I didn’t open my eyes this time. I turned away from the open room and toward the window right beside my bed. It was a cool night, the breeze felt nice on my face. It calmed the fear rushing through my veins.

I felt his hand on my shoulder. He was shaking me to wake me up. I laid still acting like I was asleep and prayed he would go away and I told myself right then that if he tried to touch me, or make me touch him, I would sit up and scream for my mom. I knew I would have to scream loud because she was sleeping in her room where the window unit air conditioner was and her door was shut. I knew he had planned it this way.

“Hey, turn over” I heard him say. But I didn’t move and I continued to act like I was asleep.

Again, I psyched myself up for what was to come. I knew it would take everything in me to scream, but I also knew I had to. No matter what, I had to scream.

He grabbed my shoulder and forcefully tried to roll me toward him.

I sat up and screamed “MOMMA!”

He jumped back “why are you screaming?”

I didn’t answer him, I just screamed again “MOMMA!”

I could tell he had no idea what to do, he stammered with his words “uh, uh, why are you screaming? Stop screaming.” He said very sheepishly and he rubbed his head like he was confused.

“I want my momma.” I said as I started to cry.

“Go back to sleep Carole. I’m going” he said and then he left my room, walked through the dining room, turned off the light, then went into his room where my mom was still asleep.

I continued to cry and wished my little brother had been home and in his bed on the other side of the room to protect me from Donny for the rest of the night. I tried not to fall asleep for fear he would return but before I knew it I had cried myself to sleep.

…Three weeks went by, three weeks of tormented sleep, squeezed in beside my brother Joe or in my sister Donna’s room with her. Every time I saw Donny I wanted to vomit. On one hand I felt like everyone, everywhere was reading on my face “my step dad masturbated by my face while I slept and he tried to do more” but I also felt like it was all inside me and disappearing into illusion and make believe. I was bursting inside and getting very confused. I couldn’t live like that another day. I knew the only remedy was to tell someone. I couldn’t let fear tell me not to…

I told a friend down the road, she told my mom and my mom took us and left Donny for good.

..I know it could have been much worse, I know girls that have lived through much worse, but no matter the extent of abuse, it steals your innocence. It leaves a brand seared into your brain and that messes with you.

Everything had changed.

Originally posted at CaroleSmithTurner.com.

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How Sexual Abuse Affects Us Today

By admin

Written by Mary DeMuth.

It happened so long ago. Nearly forty years now. The picture at the top of this post is me, aged five. The year the boys came and took me away. Stole a year of my life. In ravines. Under trees. In a sheet-canopied bunk bed. With their friends in increasing number.

By grace, I faked sleep so they couldn’t take me.

By grace, we moved away from those boys.

By grace, though others would try to attack through the years, God gave me legs to run away. Far away, palms sweating, heart beating, mind remembering.

I’ve walked through years of healing. Folks prayed. A lot. Friends listened. Counselors unpacked the abuse. Books helped. My husband supported. And yet, the struggle remains. Less so, but it’s still there haunting.

I wrote a post, a very personal post, about how the marriage bed can be a place of healing for victims of sexual abuse. It’s blessed folks. I’m thankful. But there’s still a hint of that feeling of dirtiness that lingers. A place in the shadows where I beg God to show me beauty in the dark places. He has, oh He has. In thin places where the membrane between heaven and earth is sheer. I recounted His nearness in my memoir, Thin Places, where I bled on the page for the sake of others, so they would no longer feel alone.

I am not fully healed. I still fear. Sometimes I sleep. Or move away. Or run. But I’m closer to Jesus in the aftermath. He, who hung naked, fully exposed and humiliated on that cross. He who was victimized by others, yet also by my own sin. He who knew neglect, betrayal, fear. In a way, we share a deeper bond because I endured sexual abuse. He is a friend to the broken. He understands my pain. He walked through it on earth, and He continues to walk through it today. With me. With you. With millions of other victims.

I am not fully whole, but I am wholly loved by a holy God. I rest there today.

Want to see my story in three dimensions? Watch the video trailer to Thin Places here:

Originally posted at MaryDeMuth.org.

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The Weight of Sexual Abuse

By admin

Written by Heidi Bylsma

No daddy ever intends to molest his baby girl. In fact, most daddies would kill (or seriously maim) any man that did such things to their daughters.

That is the tricky thing about sexual addiction—it is progressive. It takes something a bit more dangerous, a bit more “naughty,” like most addictions, to get the same thrill. Even if that “something” is molesting your own daughter.  A man who never dreamed of doing such things, does. He is compelled as if by some unseen force, to do the atrocious, the dreadful, the horrific.

My dad was a medical doctor. His patients thought he walked on water. He was a hero to the masses by day and a child molester by night. Sex addiction is no respecter of persons. Professional saint or struggling ex-con, it doesn’t matter.

I am sure my daddy lived in an alcohol-enhanced state of denial about what he did routinely. As a pre-teen, I was uncertain about life and doubted the love of troubled parents.  I didn’t want to “hurt his feelings,” so I tried only to shift just out of reach of his groping hands, but I never actually stopped him. I didn’t even really understandthat he was doing something that was so heinously wrong. I knew it felt “yucky.” Years of loving (and proper) scratching of my back as we watched TV together evolved into a demon that owned his soul and sucked the life and innocence out of me through the hands of the man I should most be able to trust for protection.  I learned to despise the daddy whose approval I so longed for. My virtue was killed by his addiction and so was my image of what a loving Father is. (Is it any wonder I struggle with the image of a good Heavenly Father to this day?)

Over thirteen years later, while in a courtroom serving on jury duty for the first time, the judge described the allegations against the accused.  As I heard the sordid details of what the man supposedly did, my heart raced. My mind screamed with absolute certainty: “HE IS GUILTY! Make him a eunuch!” The man  was accused of molesting young girls at his daughter’s slumber party. During the judge’s description, I flashed back to one of my own slumber parties years before where my father had encouraged my girlfriends and I to go “skinny dipping” in our swimming pool. I remembered seeing him peek out the window through curtains barely parted and had assumed he had been looking out for us to be sure we were safe from a late-night pool accident.

I had a rude awakening in the courtroom that day. The judge cleared the court and questioned me about my obvious agitation. Fresh in the awareness that what had happened to me was, in fact, the stigma of “child molestation,” I was dismissed “for cause.”

And so began the road to healing.

The journey has been long. I carried not only the emotional devastation of what my dad did, but also a literal physical weight—a self-imposed prison that provided safety for years.  I discovered as a pre-teen that I could comfort and anesthetize myself with food.  The subsequent weight gain of using food this way also served to hide my “girlish” features from the eyes and hands of any would-be violators—Dad, or neighborhood boys who, I found, were after the same things. Behind a wall of fat, I would be left alone.

That courtroom realization was some twenty-plus years ago. I am now involved in ministry to women who struggle with body, eating, and food issues.  I have discovered that many of the women I have the pleasure of ministering to have similar histories. Their issues with food, eating, and the self-loathing of their bodies often began with fathers, uncles or “friends” who used the girls they knew as their personal play things. Some of these women have been molested. A few have been raped. All have plunged themselves into the comforting arms of food where they have found stability and safety.  The extra weight many of us carry has served as a protective shell, guarding a precious treasure hidden away beneath—a priceless prize that was violated at some point our lives.

For many of us, our eating and body issues began as a product of sexual abuse at some point in our lives. In fact, many of us may not even realize it until we have a moment like I did in the courtroom that day…and the awareness that we were molested falls on us like a cold winter.

For some of us, shame has caused us to embrace the identity associated with asin that was committed against us. This has wreaked havoc with our view of ourselves, our view of God and, often, our view of men.

The long, hard, climb out of the pit in which we find ourselves can only happen through the fellowship of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. There is no easy solution. Jesus told us that the truth will set us free—even a truth that is extremely painful to face. Although he was speaking of the Word of God, I have nevertheless experienced this principle holds true about facing my past as well. As I refuse torun from the truth in my past, choosing, instead to embrace it and to walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death with the One who was there all along, believing God will redeem the years the locusts have eaten, I begin to find healing of my wounds. I am a healthy weight now and enjoy a blessed relationship with a godly husband who is a gift from the Lord.  I must daily die to self—especially as it relates to choosing to forgive my now-deceased father for what he stole from me. I choose to pursue a walk with Jesus in present time. This isn’t “sanctified denial,” but it brings me step-by-step closer to that which God intends.

Originally posted at Heidi’s blog.

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