A Boy’s Calling to be a Missionary of the Heart

Mother Teresa help person next to you

Dear reader:

Many have read this story about a boy I know who was abused and many have not. It is even more powerful as I go deeper into what the boy sees. I offer it again to encourage anyone who is dealing with abuse experienced or still ongoing, that your life doesn’t end with your abuse. It can be a transforming story as you reach out to others to help you heal from it. Please feel free to share this story with all you feel need to hear a real story of overcoming abuse. Have a light-filled life! – Kevin

If I could just have five minutes of your valuable time, I would like to tell you the story of a boy with dreams as wide as the sea of Galilee. He was going to grow up to serve his Lord, in spite of his challenges. Even though he has a spastic gait from a progressive neurodegenerative disorder, he is determined to make a difference in every life he would touch. As he battles one flu or respiratory bug after the other, he believes that all he is experiencing is for a purpose larger than himself.

The flame of hope for a kinder and more just society burns within him even as a five year-old. His mother realizes that there is a challenging call upon his life. She approaches his teachers to ask that they encourage the development of his beautiful mind. She wants him to know that along with poor eyesight and poor physical coordination, he possesses a fine mind. She arranges for him to read about the lives of others with challenges, like Braille and Keller. He reads about how they helped many people. He reads stories about scientists like Pasteur, who discovered a technique to pasteurize milk. He sees that one person with a determined will can make a difference.

The Lord has his mother see in him what he could not see. His schizophrenic father would belittle him. “You’re clumsy. You’re stupid. You’re brother’s smarter than you’ll ever be. You’re a mama’s boy. You disappoint me. Do you work at being stupid? Why are you so awkward that you can’t tie your own shoes? I wish you had never been born!”

The boy could not understand how his dad could be Dr. Jekyll one moment and Mr. Hyde the next. The wonderful image of his father carrying him piggyback while ice-cream dripped down the boy’s face on to his dad, stands in sharp contrast to the many spankings for no reason. Those haunting hate-filled words from his father’s mouth burn in his memory: “The hand or the book. The hand or the book.”

Tears flow down his face as his father’s destructive, cold and cruel thoughts play over and over in his mind.

As he cries himself to sleep so many lonely nights, something larger than himself says, “Hold on. Don’t give in. Fight. Believe that life can be beautiful. There is a purpose for all you’re going through.”

The abuse remains hidden, controlled and exacting. He uses his vivid imagination to paint a different world, one where he is in control, where he is powerful.

In the cool and refreshing breeze under the willow tree by their home, he closes his eyes and dreams that he is a World War II flying ace. He attacks his father and kills him with a machine gun. Rat a tat tat. Rat a tat tat. Mission successful. That mean and vicious man is dead.

Then, he awakes to know in his sorrowful heart that this is only a dream. This terrifying reality looms over even the joy of splashing in mud puddles.

One day he sees his mother hanging by a belt. She attempts to commit suicide because the mental and physical torture from his father is too much to endure. The five year-old boy screams out, “Mom, please don’t die! Please don’t die!” His father cuts the belt in a lucid moment. The boy’s mother is choking and gasping for her life. But she lives, live more years with the horror and the burning certainty that her husband will beat her again and again. The boy sees how his mother’s feeling of helplessness that she could not escape her abuse, causes her to be blind for several months.

One day he is finding it difficult to have faith to believe. He prays to God to rescue him. God answers, but it takes six long agonizing years before the answer becomes reality. An opportunity comes when the father is busy driving taxi. The boy, his brother and his mother escape their perpetual hell.

As a man of 51, the boy who was abused and ridiculed, goes on to be a missionary in South Korea, social advocate, loving husband, graduate counselling student, writer, journalist, singer, songwriter, professor,  counsellor and a healer of wounded hearts and broken lives. He forgives his father for those seemingly never-ending years of abuse. He takes back the vow he made that he would find a way to kill him. Forgiveness is born in tears of healing as the boy’s stepfather challenges him to forgive and not have his life ruined by the cancer of the abuse. Why did this abused boy go on to serve his Lord?

It was his way of saying thank you to his Lord for answering the prayer of a despairing, helpless five year-old to rescue him from the pain and hopelessness of abuse. He would grow up using this knowledge being a victorious healer of others because of the hope Christ put in his soul.

Did you guess that boy is me?

Thank you, Lord, for my calling to be a missionary of the heart.

http://osborne2029.wordpress.com/

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About osborne2029

I enjoy spending time with people just having a coffee or talking about life, philosophy, religion, politics or sharing a favorite joke or story. We learn from one another as we interact and share our joys, challenges and even our times of sadness. I enjoy reading, writing, singing and sharing in the blessing of community whether that is one on one or in groups. I'm married and am powned by two kitties named Sir William of Lounge a.k.a. Sir Lounge a Lot and Princess Catherine of Chaos a.k.a. Her Royal Highness Catherine of Englehart. I m in an M.A.-Ph.D program with St. James the Elder Theological Seminary to train to become a psychotherapist and priest. Let us pray for and reach out to each other with kindness, love and an embracing compassion. We can working together be servants with two open hands to those in need so that hate, indifference and inequality would lose and love will win. The peace and abounding joy of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

Posted on August 3, 2014, in On Life's Purpose and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. May God continue to hold you in his hands.

    • Hi Bill

      Thanks so much for that supportive prayer! What moved you about my story?

      May our Lord hold you also in His hands and guide you in all you do for Him.

      Keep fighting against the darkness in people’s lives as you have been so faithfully.

      Thank God in this ever-darkening world with the increasing darkness in all media, we are in His hands.

      Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to follow Marmar’s blog and mine. We value your ongoing prayers. The Enemy has been afoot in many of our lives, but we are more than conquerors in Christ.

      Have a Son-filled week, brother!

      Kevin

      • Hi Kevin,
        I have never experienced the physical or mental abuse of the kind you must have felt. I was brought up in a Christian home going to church several times a week. The church had what I will just call problems that as a child growing up became difficult to deal with. I watched my father struggle to get his breath on a daily bases and the die from bone cancer at age 66. But what I will always remember was how he never lost his faith in God even though I wanted little to do with Him at that time. I read your story and I see your step dad and his compasion and remember my father and his compasion and how both of them made an impact on lives. And then you picked up the tourch and carried it. God bless you for all you have done. I am not a writer but I pray daily that God will give me the words to write what he has laid on my heart.
        Bill

      • Hi Bill

        Thanks for sharing from your heart. I saw my stepfather die from lung cancer. It was so sad to see him struggle for his breath, to die a little more each day. The hardest thing to see was this once robust man reduced to a shadow of his former self.

        I am comforted knowing just before my stepfather died he made that eleventh hour cry to ask Christ to be his personal Lord and saviour. My stepbrother, his wife, Karen and me, sang George into the Kingdom.

        As his hand holds mine and he is breathing using an oxygen mask, I feel him say to my spirit, “Kevin, I love you. It’s time for me to go now and be with June. I am going to a place where my sorrow and pain is no more.” Then, I feel his physical life leave him as his grasp of my hand loosens.

        At 76 my stepfather becomes a new babe in Christ. He is welcomed into the arms of a Father who loves us all. He is finally at peace.

        Bill, there is such a narrow definition of being a writer. Writing is as you know much more than putting words together; it is what you express with your heart. You have that passion to share what is on your soul. That, Bill, is being a writer.

        You have the passion to communicate the thoughts your Lord puts upon your heart. The rest can be learned. I know for me it is a constant learning process. I could write for the rest of my life and still feel there are more things to be learned to make me a more effective communicator for my Lord.

        Bill, I have learned that God doesn’t care that much about the thoughts we convey being smoothly polished. He does want us to work at the way we communicate, especially when writing or speaking about His Word and His Truth. It has been my experience that often the messages with the simplest word and sentence constructions have the greatest impact because they reach a much larger audience.

        I remember the wise advice of Will Rooen, who was my Christian journalism professor, friend and one of my valued mentors. “Kevin, fifty and seventy-five cent words are highly over-rated. Make your message understood by more people by using more 25 cent words.”

        I hope what I have shared has encouraged you in this truth. You like all who communicate thoughts and ideas are writers. Some of us do that better than others. Yet, the fact remains we are writers.

        May the Lord keep showing you all the ways in which you are a communicator of His Truth.

        Kevin

      • Kevin,
        Thanks so much for sharing and the words of encouragement. I completely agree with the 25 cent words. I have read many writings on evolution and you generally needed a Doctorate Degree to understand what was written. When I wrote Deceptive Influences I elected to use those 25 cent words, to write using what I like to call in layman language as much as possible.

        Thanks again for the encouragement and keep up the great work.

        Bill

  2. WOW! thank you for sharing.

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