Chapter Four: “Help me, dear Father, to truly repent”

Help me, dear Father, to freely forgive

All who may seem unkind to me.

Help me each day, Father, I pray;

Help me live nearer, nearer to thee.

Help me, dear Father, to truly repent,

Making things right, and changing my ways.

Help me each day, Father, I pray;

Help me live nearer, nearer to thee.

"Help Me, Dear Father," Children’s Songbook, 99

I was seven years old when I first remember repenting. My friend who lived across the street had received money from her mom to buy something from the ice cream truck, and my friend bought a pack of bubble gum shaped like cigarettes that puffed out sugar when you blew through them. We excitedly took them up to her room and spent the afternoon laughing and pretending to smoke cigarettes, feeling so cool. But I had a nagging feeling inside that something wasn't right. And later that evening, when my mom and brother walked through the door of our house, I told them what I had done. My mom rolled her eyes, gave me a short reprimand, and walked on. But my brother, six years older than me, looked me sternling in they eyes and said, "You need to repent."

So I did. As they walked away, I turned to the empty living room behind me, and, rushing to kneel at the couch, poured out my heart to my Heavenly Father. I confessed what happened, told him how sorry I was for not saying no or walking away earlier, and how I would never ever do anything like that again. I pleaded for his forgiveness, and through tears, asked for him to give me strength to make it right. Late afternoon sunlight fell through the windows onto the living room floor as I finished my prayer. And I felt a peaceful resolve to do and be better.

A year later, as I started third grade after the "incident", I was sure I had done something terrible and awful, and that if my parents, friends, or Primary teachers knew about it, they would be disgusted and repulsed. I was known to talk too much, be too loud, and forever struggle to listen to my parents. But this? What happened in that garage seemed unforgivable.

One of my greatest sorrows was that I was baptized a few months before “the incident.” If I had only been baptized afterwards, it would have been washed away with the rest of my sins. And I was told it would have been like it never happened. How I wished that were the case.

But the icky feeling inside continued. So one quiet memont on the playground that year, when I found myself alone at my new school, I started to pray. I prayed to the Lord, and through tears, I told him what had happened. I asked him to forgive me, explained that I didn't mean to, and that I was so sorry for what I did and for not trying harder to resist. I knew God already knew what happened, but it felt so good to tell Him and not have it all bottled up inside me.

As I pleaded over and over for forgiveness, for some way to make it right, to change myself, a thought came to my head. Perhaps one way to make it right would be to pray for my cousin. He also was in need of forgiveness.

So right then and there, on that school playground, I turned my prayer from pleading for me to pleading for my cousin. I prayed about how much I had loved Connor, how he was my favorite cousin, how we played together growing up. I told God how angry I was that Connor had locked me in the garage without my permission, had forced me to take my clothes off and do something innapropriate when I didn't want to. And I asked God to forgive Connor for what he had done, to be merciful and gentle with him, and to spare him any great judgment or repercussion.

And that's when I forgave Connor. I told God I forgive Connor, so He should forgive him too. I released Connor from any indebtedness to me. And I felt a release, a sense of freedom, a weight lifted.

Through this experience, I have learned a few things.

One, the forgiveness of children is great and the power of forgiveness is long-lasting. As an adult, I have spent years in therapy, attended weekend retreats, and worked with several mental health professionals. And although I had to work through anger, shame, and the effects of trauma, whenever a new therapist wanted to help me forgive my cousin, I searched my feelings and found I already had, long ago, that day on the playground.

Two, repentance is bit different than the 5-step formula I was taught as a child. But more on that another time.

And three, repentance is an apprpriate response for guilt but not for shame. One of the greatest consequences of sexual trauma is a pervasive sense of shame and low self-worth. I call them shame attacks. It's sometimes hard for me to recognize what causes them, or even to realize they are happening in the moment. But during a shame attack, I feel this overwhelming sense that I'm this awful human being, that if people truly knew who I was or saw my flaws, they would be disgusted and abandon me.

When I was a child and these shame cycles would surface, I felt this great icky feeling inside me. And in an effort to seek relief, I would try to repent. Sometimes for the same thing I'd repented of before. I didn't yet know the difference between guilt ("I did something wrong") and shame ("I am a bad person").

What I needed for shame was honest and loving connection. And we'll get to that in future posts.