We’re All A Little Broken

“All these pieces. Broken and shattered. In mercy gathered, mended and whole.”

Lately I’ve found myself guilty of putting God in a box. I know that He has a great mission to be lived out on Earth by His believers. I just never thought He could use me.

I never thought my testimony was powerful enough to be impactful. I didn’t turn to drugs. I didn’t turn away from God for a couple of years. I didn’t struggle with sexual identity. I didn’t think I could influence others the way people with these stories could. I mean, let’s be real. When we hear testimonies from people who literally hit rock bottom and turned to Jesus, it’s pretty powerful. God uses those people in great ways. If He uses those people everyday, why is my testimony so important to share?

Because there is someone who needs to hear it. There is a girl out there who is struggling to love her father. There is a girl out there who is slowly breaking herself down because she doesn’t feel valuable enough to deserve love. There is a girl out there who is like me and needs to hear my story with Jesus.

So here we are.

My testimony.

This is for that girl who needs to know that she is worthy. She is beautiful. She is so deserving of the greatest love possible.

When most girls think of their dad, they think “my hero.” I can’t help but to think so much more than that of my dad.

When I was a baby, my biological dad decided fatherhood wasn’t a path he wanted to walk down. My mom was a single, teenage mom who had just started college. Even still, she found a way to give me the best possible life every single day.

Our lives changed for the better when I was five. She married my dad.

Yes. My dad.

No. Not my biological father.

My dad is the man who stepped into our lives, knowing good and well how hectic and crazy it would look. He gladly chose to marry not only my mom, but make a life long commitment to me as well. He promised to protect me and love me until death do us part. He truly deserves the title “dad.” We won’t give him any other name.

In October of 2001, I was legally adopted by this incredible man. It wouldn’t be until years later than I realized how amazing he truly is.

Things weren’t always rainbows and glitters, though. My father wounds didn’t just disappear because I was adopted.

My middle school years were three of the hardest years of my life. These are the years that girls really begin to find their identity. They start to connect with other girls and figure out who their “best friends” are.

I found mine in sixth grade. The two best friends ever.

Or so I thought.

Seventh grade was by far the hardest year.

These girls that I thought were my best friends ended up being the complete opposite. Instead of building me up, they began to tear me down. They wanted to point out all of the flaws they saw in my life.

But there is one note I will always remember so vividly.

“You don’t have any friends. Nobody wants you here. You should just kill yourself. Your own dad didn’t even want you.”

Whoa.

I had never felt so beaten down until that moment. I had never been cut so deep by anyone, let alone someone I thought was my best friend.

But this is when my perspective began to change. I began to grow so bitter towards my biological dad; an emotion I never felt towards him before. He was always in the back of my mind, but I never hated him. In a way, I was thankful because he allowed my dad to come into my life.

The next few years were filled with so much resentment towards his immature decision to walk away. I let it consume my life. I let this bitterness seep its way into my relationship with God. I hated that He made me experience this as a child. It wasn’t my choice. Why am I living with the pain because of it? I didn’t do anything to deserve it.

It wasn’t until after I graduated high school that I realized the reason I walked this path. While there may have been many hard times, I realized the true value of a father. I gained an understanding of what it takes for someone to earn the title of “dad.”

I finally understood why we call God “Father.” He gave up everything for us. He sent His own son to die on the cross FOR US. He showed us a fatherly love that no one can compete with.

Once I realized the amount of love that is shown from the Father, I was able to find my true identity as a daughter.

I stripped off the layers of abandonment, bitterness, anger, and sadness. I laid down my pride and took the first step towards forgiving my biological dad.

The summer after I graduated high school, I decided it was time to meet my him. I wanted to tell him I forgave him, not for his sake, but my own.

God knew it was time. There were so many events that happened that led up to meeting him that I knew God was in the midst of it.

While at National Fine Arts, a random stranger turned around during worship, looked me straight in the face, and told me, “You need to talk to your dad. You need to tell him you love him.”

The same week, I went to Pennsylvania to visit family and found out he was also in town (this has never happened before, so I was surprised).

I told my mom I wanted to meet him. She was so encouraging with it all.

Meeting him was quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

But definitely one of the best.

Things are kind of back to nonexistent between the two of us, but I know that there was an impact made.

I know that God used me in some way to speak to him. Whether or not I will see any of the fruits from the conversations we had, I know God still spoke to him through me.

God used my story to make an impression on my biological dad.

God is able to use my testimony to touch others.

Through all of this, the most important thing I learned is why God is so deserving of being called Father. However, the second most important thing I am able to take from this is that God can use broken people.

No.

God WANTS to use broken people.

God already used the perfect person. He used His Son.

He’s looking for people like you and me. He’s looking for the people that are able to relate to others.

I know there’s a girl that needs to hear this story. I know that God is able to use my story to impact someone in a big way.

Don’t feel like your story isn’t good enough. God WANTS to use you.

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