Have you ever felt fear so intense that it shaped your entire life?
The first time I felt the painful grip of fear, I was a little girl sitting cross-legged on the living room floor. My parents were watching the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite, and images of war were flickering across the TV. A scrolling list of names brought a lump to my throat. Each name was a life lost, and the weight of their stories pressed down on my small shoulders and my tummy knotted up. My mother noticed the terror in my eyes and sent me to my room, urging me to shut the door. The door clicked shut, and with it, a wall rose between me and any source of comfort and understanding, leaving me feeling abandoned and alone.
Inside my room, I created a world of safety. My teddy bears became my imaginary students, their plush faces offering peace and companionship as I taught them about math and kindness from the safety of my own room. The door stayed closed, a guardian against my brother’s cruel antics and the unknown dangers lurking beyond. My room became a fortress of solitude where I found safety in the familiar faces of my stuffed animals—my confidants. And that’s the way it was.
The Fortress of Isolation
As the years passed, retreating behind that closed door became my way of life. High school parties and football games faded into the background as my world shrank to the confines of my room. My friends were few; my interactions were limited to necessary exchanges. Lunchtime was a daily torment. I sat alone; the laughter of others was a cruel reminder of what I lacked. Conversations swirled around me, full of happiness and connection, but I was an outsider trapped in loneliness. The rejection wasn’t just a feeling; it was a shadow that clung to me, dark and unyielding, following me everywhere.
In college, despite new challenges and opportunities, my door remained my steadfast ally. It shielded me from the clamor of dorm life and the anxiety of social interactions. I studied late into the night, my desk cluttered with books and notes. The door was a shield, keeping out the noise of dorm life and the anxiety of social interactions. My roommate wondered why I rarely joined her, but she stopped asking after a while, leaving me alone.
The Door that Guards My Heart
Now, as I navigate the world of adulthood, the door continues to guard the fortress of my heart. The beloved stuffed animals of my childhood are now joined by an adult collection that adorns my shelves with silent whispers of comfort and companionship. Gone are the days of teaching imaginary students in make-believe classrooms; instead, I pen stories of faith and hope for readers I may never meet. The door, ever watchful, shields my heart from the harshness outside. Each story is a lifeline, a bridge from my guarded heart to theirs, bound by the timeless threads of faith and hope. I draw deep from the wellspring of faith nurtured in safe, quiet, unfettered isolation, weaving tales that breathe life into my enduring spirit.
A Gentle Knock in the Silence
Recently, I have become aware of the fear that has kept me behind closed doors. Loneliness is still a familiar companion, but now I recognize it for what it is. The fortress of isolation can become a sanctuary of communion, where fear gives way to faith and solitude transforms into sacred fellowship.
I hear a gentle knock within the quiet of my fortress. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come into him and eat with him, and he with me”. The invitation is clear: open the door of my heart.
Last Paragraph 2 Weeks Ago
I am not ready to open that door fully yet, but I know the day will come. When it does, I will find the courage to open it, my heart fortified by the faith that has sustained me in the shadows. In my solitude, I have nurtured a deep connection with God. In the quiet hours, I’ve heard His whisper urging me to step out in faith.
Last Paragraph Today
I have been yearning for the old days—the tent revivals, warfare prayers, and life-changing retreats where the power of God is so real. Last Monday, I attended the Mario Murillo revival meeting in preparation for a full-fledged tent revival coming to Albany in August. The place was overflowing with hungry believers. I was not alone.
My yearning has also led me to a Wednesday night class, Untangling Your Emotions, which is the impetus for this testimony. Last week in class, as my body heated up, my hands trembled, and my breath grew shallow, I knew the Lord wanted me to share this testimony. Oh no! That sinking feeling—I raised my hand. “Lord, how can I be so vulnerable? I don’t even know these people. Besides, this is all so new to me.” But I’ve been praying for years, Lord, “Here am I! Send me” (Is. 6:8). For months, I’ve been praying for a breakthrough. God is gently encouraging me, “This is your chance.” I must speak. With my heart pounding, I shared this story.
The result? Immediately after that class, a door opened, and I was invited to teach a Bible study for hurting women beginning next week. At first, I thought she was suggesting I attend the class. Next week, I will attend my first meeting with this ministry. It’s just minutes from my home.
So far, I have spoken with 2 women in the ministry. The one I had said nothing to, wasn’t even in this class, said things like, “You are not alone; you have sisters.” “You will meet. . .”, “We will teach you how to speak,” “They bring the audience; it’s our job to bring the message.”
Their website says, “So many women have said, ‘I have found my people!’ Here, you’ll find a second home that is a launching place to live your purpose and reach the world. We believe we are called to be messengers of grace and that no one should go alone. We are here for you so that you can be there for her. Great is Thy Faithfulness!!!