Guest Author: Merin Minch
Before you continue, read Part 1 of Merin’s story.
High school was an interesting time in my life. I didn’t really have many girls as friends because it seemed like everyone was boy-crazy. When I tried to have a similar façade, I couldn’t. My cousin talked to me about purity and how the Lord desires for us to be vessels of holiness. It came easy for me, seeing as I wanted nothing to do with men romantically.
Sure, I had guys as friends, but I friend-zoned every single guy who was remotely interested in me and put up several walls. The summer before my senior year of high school, I went to a conference during which one of the main speakers sat next to me. He asked me what I thought of his sermon for the high school kids about purity. I cheerfully replied that it was great and absolutely pertinent to my generation. After a few pauses he said, “Did you know that every single guy sitting in that room is a porn addict?”
That’s what did it for me.
I felt that men were animals who simply used women and didn’t care about their worth. I developed a deep resentment for them.
This resentment carried on into college. My second year of undergrad was when I fell into the valley of the hardest times I have ever endured.
The feelings of being dirty, unclean, unwanted and the idea that what had happened was my fault came back. I quickly isolated myself from my friends and felt as if the Lord was nowhere to be found.
I had spent the entire semester with my head deep in apologetics trying to prove God’s existence to my cousins who did not walk with Him… at this point, I started questioning His existence myself. At the end of the semester during the middle of a final exam, I felt intense spiritual attack where voices told me, “Nobody cares, nobody loves you… you should just kill yourself.” At this point, I put my pencil down, didn’t finish the exam, went straight to the psychologist’s office and poured out my heart.
I ended up taking the semester off to go through counseling, where I found out I had severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I often had severe flashbacks while studying, flinched if any man even touched my shoulder, and had nightmares of being attacked. Each week I would talk to my counselor and right after that, Ben (my now-husband), would call me to “detox” from the counseling session. He was a really great friend in the midst of all of this: constantly encouraging me with Scripture, always offering to carry my burdens to the throne of grace with me. Both Ben and my counselor told me they felt I should tell my dad about what happened.
It was absolutely terrifying sitting at the kitchen table facing my mom and dad. My dad was so gentle. He said he wished I told him when I was younger (I told him that I thought he wouldn’t believe me), but that this season was a time to seek forgiveness. He also said that I had my whole life ahead of me and to not let this hold me back.
I remember feeling this huge weight being lifted off of me.
I didn’t realize how badly I wanted my dad to know! But that was the final part of my healing process. My relationship with my dad improved after that. We talk a lot more, we even hug each other!
That summer, I went to Rehoboth orphanage in Thrissur, India, and felt joy I had never experienced in my entire life. I loved meeting such incredibly strong, little girls. I remember at the end of our visit, there was a girl who didn’t want to be in the pictures, and when I asked her why, she said, “I’m ugly, my skin is too dark… I don’t deserve to be in the picture.”
That’s when it hit me how much it hurts our Heavenly Father when He hears one of His daughters saying that about themselves – His own creation! I now know that the voices in my head are flawed lies and that if they do not align with what Scripture says is true about me as a child of God, then those voices are wrong (John 1:12, Romans 8:17).