Sublime

An older woman came forward to tell the story of her daughter, Chelsey. I heard audible sobs when she revealed—partway through her story—that she spoke on behalf of her daughter only because her daughter was no longer here. Chelsey had committed suicide, never having recovered from the damage of what Larry had done.

How about Holly? She is a young mom who recently left a comfortable suburban job to teach in an inner-city school. Holly doesn’t just teach students, though; she invests in families with the gospel. She told me about one family she had recently visited—a single mom working full-time while going to school, with five children ages three to fifteen.

The floodgates had opened. We didn’t know, as we sat in the courtroom with tears streaming down our faces, that the world had begun to take notice. But as each woman stood to face her abuser and speak the truth, the world was coming face-to-face with the damage of sexual assault in a way it never had before. Jane Doe had a name. She had a story.

Corrie ten Boom’s story

She could either return to her comfortable life or hear the cries of the suffering and let her heart be engaged. “I made a conscious decision to open my heart to the pain,” she said. “When I did, God broke my heart. He shattered it in a million pieces, and I cried for days.” She cried in shame because the AIDS pandemic had been building for two

was repaired when mistakes were made so that trust continued.