A God-Sized Void

For almost five years, I’ve been involved with facilitating support/recovery groups for adult women survivors of childhood sexual abuse. The program is faith-based and uses a Christ-centered curriculum. I first led a group at our church when we lived in Dallas, and now I’ve been facilitating groups at our church in Charleston. It’s difficult, as I’m working through the lessons, too, just like the participants, but I’d have to say it’s one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. I’m certainly not a counselor or therapist, but I am a survivor. My job is to share my own story and experiences and let the Holy Spirit do his work. Not once have I led a group and failed to witness God’s hand at work. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and it’s something to behold. I have a ringside seat to the miracle of heart change each and every time.

We meet for twelve weeks, and the last night is special. On that night, each woman shares a project with the group. The assignment is to spend some time thinking about where they were in their healing journeys when the group began and where they are as the group finishes twelve weeks later. We ask the women to think about what God’s revealed to them, what their struggles are, how they’re feeling now, etc., and then to bring some kind of something that represents all of that. The project can be anything—made, written, found, poem, music—whatever best represents the change they’ve experienced. There’s usually some angst from some about doing a project, but I always assure them it doesn’t have to be elaborate. More important than the project itself is the thought process as they ponder what God has done in them and then share it with the other women in the group. It’s always a celebration!

A few weeks ago the most recent group met for the final night. The woman, I’ll call her Kate, who had the most impact on me that night, was the one who three weeks before was reluctant to do a project. As I explained the whole premise and reason for the project assignment, I could see apprehension creep into Kate’s face. Before I even finished speaking, she said, “I’m not good with this kind of thing. I don’t know what I can do.”

“Don’t be nervous,” I assured her and the rest of the group as I explained again. “Keep it simple. Your pondering with the Lord at home is the most important part of the assignment.”

One after the other that last night, the women shared beautiful thoughts. Tears! Yes, they flowed freely. Kate shared a song that spoke to her of all she’d experienced over the last weeks. I don’t remember what the song was, but I do remember what she said when it was over.

“What I discovered over these twelve weeks is God is using what happened to me as a child to draw me into the kind of relationship I’ve never before experienced with him. I’ve always felt this void, this hole of some sort that’s never been filled. I’ve expected my husband to fill the void, and when he couldn’t, I lashed out in anger. I’ve expected my kids to fill it, and they can’t either. My kids ask me why I’m so angry all the time. Now I see that it’s a God-sized void and no one but God can fill it.”

Do you see what I mean about a ringside seat to the miracle of heart change?

That God-sized void is present in all of us, not just abuse survivors. The sad thing is most of us don’t recognize it. Until you’ve invited God in and he fills up that void, you likely wouldn’t have even known it was there. It’s only when he’s changed everything that you can see what was missing.

I’m thanking God for his patience in pursuing me until I said yes, for I was one of those who, like most, had no idea I was missing anything. God has filled a void I didn’t even know was there. I wonder if the same could be true of you. There’s one thing I know for sure. Experiencing God in that way, allowing him to fill you, is like nothing else. I so want that for you too.