Sheryl’s Unparalyzed Story

Before You Read: This powerful testimony contains some hard things to read. If you are sensitive, continue with discretion. There is a beautiful Unparalyzed ending though.

“Take another step and I’ll blow your brains out.”

I turned around and came face to face with the barrel of a gun and something inside me died.

The man spewing these terrifying words was someone I knew and trusted. But in cruel acts of domination and degradation that would last for several years, he altered my life forever. 

I was 6 years old.

Hope. Self-esteem. Dignity. Happiness. These were all casualties left lying on the ground, tattered and bleeding.

I shut down emotionally, withdrawing from the world. I tried to hang on as life swirled around me, unpredictable and turbulent. But I became a spectator, fading into the background, as I watched life parade by.

My dysfunctional family moved to another town when I was 12, and I thought a new place might mean a new beginning. I desperately craved peace and stability. My next-door neighbor and I became great friends, and I even went on vacation with her family. But that turned into another betrayal. While everyone was asleep in the camper one night, my friend’s father molested me.

Once again, I realized my life would know no security, no peace, no normalcy. I became a hostage to fear.

Outwardly, I appeared well-adjusted. But behind the façade, I was a mess. I was scared, anxious, and I didn’t feel safe. I couldn’t sleep in the dark, still can’t. 

My soul was shattered. I was full of guilt, shame, and self-loathing. I didn’t tell my parents what had happened because I knew somehow these vile experiences would be my fault. So I kept my abusers’ dirty little secrets while I suffered in silence.

I didn’t know what it was called then, but I now realize I was severely depressed. I pasted on a smile as I put up an invisible wall of protection. My emotional state was as fragile as an eggshell.

Many nights I knelt by my bed and begged God to take me home. I grew up in church and was saved at an early age. But I couldn’t fathom that God would want me to continue living this ravaged, numb existence.

When He didn’t heed my request, I decided to take matters intomy own hands.

As I put a loaded gun to my temple, I cried out, asking Jesus to forgive me for what I was about to do.

And then I heard His voice: “It’s either your way or My way, but we can’t both be in control.”

It was a turning point.

How sad God must have been as He watched me struggle. 

Letting go of my anger and hurt was a monumental stumbling block. I had been slapped, punched, beaten, my teeth loosened, my face cut, my hair pulled out by the handfuls. I remember trying to hide the bruises on my body, though it was the bruises inside that would not heal. I wanted someone to pay.

And then Jesus reminded me Someone already had.

As I gave Christ my fear, my shame, my guilt, and my pain, He led me to a Christian counselor who helped put the pieces of me back together. I was flipping through the Bible at home one night when God showed me Luke 5:37: “You can’t put new wine into old wineskins.” I realized I couldn’t move forward until I forgave those who hurt and betrayed me.

I worked hard and prayed even harder as I sought to heal and recover. Many months later, as I was doing my devotions one evening, Christ spoke to me: “It’s time.” I had no idea what He meant, but as the weeks went by, I continued to hear Him repeat this refrain. And then one night as I studied His word, He said: “It’s time to meet the man you’re going to marry.”

I knew I must have heard wrong. I couldn’t imagine trusting a man enough to marry him! But God, in His infinite wisdom and timing, brought a man into my life who checked all the boxes. He was kind, easygoing, a devoted Christian, and wasn’t scared off when I shared about my broken life.

We had been married only two years when I began to suffer severe headaches and impaired vision. A 3 a.m. trip to the emergency room one Sunday confirmed my worst fears.

“Ma’am, you have a lesion at the base of your skull, and I don’t know whether it’s malignant or not. We’ve called a neurosurgeon and he’s on his way to the hospital. Good luck.”

With that, the doctor on call turned and left. I looked across the room at my husband, slumped against the wall. I don’t think either of us fully comprehended the physician’s words.

The neurosurgeon finally arrived and showed us X-rays of the brain tumor. He said it was the size of a golf ball.

My circle of Christian friends couldn’t understand why God would allow this to happen, but I thought about two sayings I had posted in my work cubicle. “Instead of asking ‘Why me,’ ask ‘Why not me’?” The other said, “If I ask God ‘Why me’ about my troubles, then I have to ask, ‘Why me’ about my blessings.”

I had no idea God would use my past to give me the strength and faith to survive brain surgery and its residual effects.

Afterward, He brought numerous people into my life who needed me to advocate for brain tumor survivors as well as survivors of sexual abuse.

God’s funny like that. He connects these seemingly random dots in our lives to prepare us for what lies ahead. I can’t begin to share all the lessons I’ve learned and am still learning from my ordeals.

Christ taught me that true freedom comes when we give all our worries and fears to Him. We become unparalyzed. He taught me that I was never in control of anything in my life. He always has been and always will be. And yes, there is a freedom in that, as well.

And He taught me that He will never give up on me, no matter how many times I fail Him. “The Lord’s mercies are new every morning” (Lamentations 3:22-23).

But most of all, He taught me that He can take the splintered pieces of our lives and shape them into something beautiful for His purposes.