I know it was a terrible trauma.  I know the wounds and scars are actually still bleeding profusely.  I know you still cry uncontrollably at times.

But, would you consider this for just a moment?  Would you consider that I know about abuse too, and that I’ve suffered greatly?  Would you consider my proposal if I shared my awful stories?

Please accept that I’ve experienced many kinds of trauma.  Each one horrible and taking many years for recovery.  I cannot render all the stories because of the thing I’m about to tell you.  I hope you’ll listen and not run away.

One day as I was sobbing uncontrollably again, Father asked, “What are you doing?”

I looked up surprised and appalled that He would ask such a question.  He is God.  He knows why I’m crying.  Why did He need my explanation?

“I don’t understand Your question.” I finally replied.

“I had new things to share with you, but you are busy.  Will it take long?”  He asked.

Once again I was appalled and replied, “You know how much pain I am suffering.  Trauma always takes long to heal.  But You know.  Sometimes people spend a lifetime and never completely heal.”

“Oh, if you want to be healed then just drop it and walk away.”  He stated simply.

My mouth fell open and I sat for several moments incredulous.  “How can You not understand how great my trauma is?  I thought you loved me.”

“I do.  That’s why I wanted to show you new things.  But I’ll wait.  Take all the time you need.  I’ll be here.”

He would be waiting?  However long it took? “I don’t understand.  How will ‘Drop it and walk away’ heal me?  People hurt others when they carry unresolved pain.  I don’t want to do that.”

“Then don’t carry it.  Drop it.”

Once more I wondered wide-eyed at His amazingly trite answer.  I shook my head at the impossibility.  How could the God of the Universe be trite?

Suddenly, I remembered the story of Naaman and his request for healing from the King of Israel.  In return he received a message from Elisha to dip in the river Jordan seven times and be healed.  But Naaman was ticked off.  The instructions were too simplistic.  He’d expected complicated rituals and prayers, and weighty consideration.  So he was offended.

Isn’t that what I was doing?  Wasn’t I offended because God didn’t weigh my trauma heavily?  His answer was simple.  Too simple.

Yet it loomed before me like a great puzzle.  How does a person simply drop horrendous trauma as though discarding a piece of paper?

Simply dropping something that didn’t matter was easy.  But this mattered.  It mattered a great deal.  I wanted resolution, and recompense, and double for my trouble.  I wanted to demand my seven fold return.  How would I get that if I dropped it?

Wasn’t I responsible to tell others about my experience so they could avoid the same trauma?  Wasn’t I responsible for bringing justice to the situation?  Wouldn’t I be derelict if I didn’t pursue this to the end of my days?  Wouldn’t God want me to fight this righteous battle?  Maybe this was His calling on my life.

Then I remembered that He’d wanted to show me new things.  “What are the new things you wanted to show me, Father?  I’m eager to learn.”

“Then learn this first.  Learn how to drop it.”  He answered gently.

I bowed my head under the weight of His great request.  “Father, I don’t know how.”

“Then imagine it.”  He suggested.

So I imagined grabbing great handfuls of my trauma.  All the details, all the emotions, all the characters involved, I wadded into a ball that grew enormous.  Then I smashed it until compacted into a ball of paper.

It sat in front of me as I stared at it.  My next step was to let it drop. And that took great courage.  I had to let my hopes for resolution, and justice, and reward, drop out of my hands along with the ball of trauma.

I cried and trembled with the horror and helplessness of the release before me.  And it took several hours to muster that courage.

Then … I dropped it.

I swayed as though I had just lived another trauma.  I reached for the door-frame to steady myself.  The room seemed empty and void.  A vast nothingness with a lack of purpose faced me.  “Oh Father, how do I deal with this?”

“Come now.  Let’s see new adventures together.”  He smiled.

Aha!  There was purpose in the emptiness.  It was the freedom to see new things.

Over the next few days I had to drop the ball a couple more times because it would cry out for me to remember my pain.  Then I’d pick it up.  It was the greatest temptation I’d ever known.  It cried a sirens song and lured me to come enjoy the tears again.

Then during the pain resurrected, I’d wallow in a kind of glory that distinguished me, justified me, and made me righteous in my own eyes.  I saw the context of my exultation within my circle of friends and acquaintances.  I recognized it under the white light of truth.  It was not righteous.  Nor was I distinguished by it.  It did not justify me or give me glory.

Rather, it had painted me a dull grey and covered my glory.  Not because I was condemned by it, but because I was a princess who had been fooled.

Releasing the ball once and for all meant that I did not sit on a high pedestal telling my terrible stories anymore.  I did not receive oooh’s and ahhh’s of attention, sympathy, and acclaim.

I imagined Lot’s wife as she walked away from Sodom, struggling to keep her head facing forward.  But the siren’s song of temptation was too strong and she turned to look at the horror. It mesmerized her with its fascination.

Yes, trauma is fascinating.  Its horror is difficult to comprehend.  So I stared at it for hours and days and weeks, mesmerized inexplicably in a twisted kind of worship-stance of awe.

When I dropped the trauma ball, I became free of it and saw it as it truly was, an evil enemy keeping me enslaved inside a prison of worship.  It lived as long as I worshiped and gave it life.

Since that time I’ve been practicing quick recognition and release.  Rather than staring in shock, I name it.  Rather than worshiping it’s horror, I ignore it.  Trauma deserves no throne nor obeisance and I finally left its cage of lies.  It was not fulfilling or satisfying.  And it was definitely not the path to my healing.  It was a siren who would steal my strength and my next adventure with Father.

In freedom I am an overcomer living in relationship with Father who takes me on new adventures, thereby possibly opening new avenues for trauma.  With them come new keys for overcoming.

A couple years later,  I suffered a trauma that would not bend to this key.  No matter how many times I dropped its ball, it remained before me.  When I asked Father to show me what to do, He gave me another key.  This one was to come up higher and sit beside Him.  As I reached up and strained to rise, my feet seemed glued to the ground.  But with continued persistence, I experienced release and learned how.  That is another story of overcoming.  There is always a key and a story of overcoming.

So now I humbly ask you if you might consider dropping it.  It is so simple that it’s offensive, but it might be the key you’ve been seeking.

And great blessings on your new adventure with Father!!!