Over the weekend, I went to Richmond to sing in a friend’s wedding and to sing at church on Sunday. I stayed in my old apartment where two of my friends are still living, and Friday night around 3am we were woken up by the sounds of the girl living above us being beaten by her boyfriend. We called the police and they were there within five minutes.
I won’t go into the whole story, because that night was scary and unsettling and it’s not what I want to focus on.
That happened Friday night; on Sunday night, we were sitting in the living room when we heard a knock on the door. It was the girl from upstairs, and it was clear she had been assaulted: a black eye, a bruised mouth, and a defeated look in her eyes.
“I just wanted to come by and apologize for Friday night.” She was holding back tears and our hearts were breaking as she spoke. “I know we’re always really loud and so I just wanted to come down and apologize.”
I quickly tried to reassure her: “We didn’t call the police because you were loud, we called because we knew what was happening. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay. Thank you guys for looking out for me.”
It was actually so good that she came by, because I had put together a little gift bag for her which included a roll of Scotch tape with an invitation to the Hill City Christmas Eve services on it (“stick with us this Christmas”). I gave it to her and again she looked like she was trying not to cry. “Thank you. That is so f*cking sweet.”
We assured her that if she ever needed anything, ever needed a place to go, or someone to talk to, my friends would be there in that apartment below her, ready to help with anything she needed.
After that conversation with her, my heart was absolutely broken. The boyfriend was basically moved in to the apartment with her, and we heard him come home a little after we spoke with her. He was still there. She was still unsafe. She was still with him.
I think the part that broke my heart the most was how utterly ashamed she looked while she was apologizing to us. I wanted to scream, “this is NOT your fault. You are worth so much more than what he did to you. You are so loved!!!”
I thought about her all weekend and I’ve been thinking about her since I got back home to Stafford. I can’t stop worrying, can’t stop remembering the shame in her eyes when she knew we knew what happened between them. I’ve been praying that Jesus would grab onto her heart and whisper that she is His daughter. That she was created with purpose and loved unconditionally; that there’s nothing she could do to make Him love her less and nothing she could do to make Him love her more. I pray that she would get out of that situation. I pray for her safety.
This morning, I felt like the Lord was telling me to read Psalms, so I went there and started reading. I stopped on a verse that I had read countless times when I felt the overwhelming feeling of shame:
“I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.” (34:4)
And, a little further down in 34:18,
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
I know my God redeems. I know He wipes out all shame and brokenness, and I know He’ll do the same with this girl. These verses are promises, and He is not in the business of breaking those.
