Crisis of Faith: Reconciling God and Rape

I was raised as a Baptist in a small town. It did not take long to recognize hypocrices and inconsistencies, and I quit going. My grandfather would take me to Sunday school every week, and then I participated in Wednesday night GAs and choir. Even though I quit attending church activities, I held fast to my faith. Through Christ is salvation. Let me be clear: I am not preaching, nor do I believe there is a single path to Godliness. I am relating my story of faith, nearly losing that faith, but finding my relationship with God again.

I was 19 when HE raped me, legally an adult, but with the naivete of youh. It took about a year to understand and comprehend that I was a victim of the "R" word. I began to question how the omnicient and omnipotent God Almighty could have let HIM rape me. I also wondered how God could allow me to suffer. In a fine arts class during my last year in collee, we watched a clip of a Robin Williams film in which he searches for his deceased wife in heaven and hell (I cannot remember the name of the movie). I had to leave the class early because of the hell scenes. I thought that perhaps we are already existing in hell and either too stupid or myopic to understand. I was doubting my faith.

After my father died, my mother was referred (for lack of a better word) to a Catholic retreat. It changed her life. I could see the changes. I was and still am very happy for her! But then she invited me the following year. I made up some excuse. People doubting their faith do not usually engage in religious activity. The next year rolled around, but my mother was asked to give a talk about forgiveness. I thought I should go to support her, although I would not get much out of it. At that time, I was having severe headaches that left me hurting for weeks at a time. I tried to use being behind in work and inability to afford the retreat as an excuse to not go. My mother's friend (and I'm blessed to call this lady my friend now, as well) had paid for another person who was unable to attend. She offered me the spot. I'd run out of excuses, so I went to a Catholic retreat full of reluctance and skepticism.

I expected to be met with the hellfire and brimstone rhetoric from my childhood in the Baptist church. (I have nothing against Baptists! Religion and faith are deeply personal, and I am in no position to judge any person's belief system.) Instead, I was met with about 200 women shining with the light of God's love. The first night, I ran into a problem. The message was that those who sin against us are part of God's plan. I was thinking this would be three days of the "God never gives you more than you can bear" rhetoric. I refused to accept that HIS rape of my body was God's will. Furthermore, I did not want part of any God that would will rape. I was angered and my faith was slipping even more.

The next day I spoke to a lady I call my angel. I explained my concerns, not mentioning rape. I suppose most people thought I was having issues with respect to my father, an alcoholic with a quick temper and violent tendencies. My angel explained that God gave us free will, and most of us make good choices with His gift of free will, but other people somtimes make bad choices with the gift of free will. Those who choose poor use of free will hurt others, and my angel said she thinks it hurts God when we are hurt by others' poor usage of the Divine gift of free will. It began to make sense to me again.

Later on in the retreat, I felt the Holy Spirit, who gave me a message that the time was right to finally tell my mother the secret about my rape and to allow God to help me heal. Some may doubt that I experienced the Holy Spirit, and that's okay. I know it happened, and that is all I need. So, that night, I had a long talk with my mother. We cried, and she held me in her arms. We talked for several hours. She began to understand the changes she had seen in me, such as self-medicating with alcohol, my college grades dropping, my withdrawal from her and family. Our relationship has never been better now, which makes me very happy.

The retreat also taught me about intercessory prayer, prayers sent to saints or other venerables to pray on one's behalf to God. Protestants don't practice intercessory prayer, so I became excited about the idea of asking for extra prayer. Once I got home, I learned that the Catholic church recognizes several patron saints of rape victims. Saints Dymphna, Potamiana (there are spelling variations), and Maria Goretti. I regularly ask these saints to pray for my continued healing on my behalf.

I am not in church every Sunday. I know I commit sin, but I ask forgiveness. I am not sure what religion fits my beliefs. I can say I am an open-minded Christian. I can say that prayer has been an integral part of my healing process. I have my faith again! This reclamation of my faith has prompted my transition from rape victim to rape survivor. For these things, I am grateful and blessed.