Finding My Voice

I am the woman without the voice. At least I was born without one.  Sure, I talked at a young age, but in huge chunks of my growing up years I was silent.  Who am I kidding?  I remained silent even into adulthood.  Silent about the heartache.  Silent all the while believing that if I just took what people dished out and was a "good girl" that people would treat me right.  Sometimes, silence isn't golden.

For years I played the victim.  Because I was the victim.  A victim of words. The running theme in my life has been how to deal with those that excel in "dishing it out". You know the ones. They serve up sorrow on a platter hoping you'll partake.  I have been silent while ugly words rushed over me. Drowning.  A victim without a voice because she could hardly breathe.

A few months ago a dear friend said, "This is what God is doing...He is transforming the victim into a victor."  I asked her how she knew.  She said, "I know longer see the scared, little girl.  I see the woman with the voice."  And what does that voice say?

The victor's voice proclaims that God is able.  Able to take whatever is dished out and turn it for her good.  

The victor's voice declares that she will not camp in despair over the past.

The victor's voice doesn't ask "why", but rather, "what now".

The victor's voice reveals her heart...one that refuses to be bitter. 

The victor's voice announces that God is good no matter what the circumstances. He was always good.  Will always be.  

The victor refuses to accept the wounds as the end of the story. 

The victor knows that trials are just another "voice lesson"...learning to articulate His truth about her situation.

Because this victor has learned that you will be a victim until you speak up and use your voice.

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