Abby and Eason,

Last night I found out that one of my abusers died. In fairness, I don’t check the sex offender registry very often, so he might have died several years ago. But, I found out last night.

I have often wondered how I would feel when he died. I honestly didn’t know.

My first response was this. I hope he accepted You, Jesus. My second response, seconds later, was that it was finally over. My third response, seconds after that was that I was finally free from XYZ. (The XYZ represents something very significant he did to me that represented his lifetime ownership of me. It’s not appropriate for this letter or for the internet).

My fourth response was to thank Jesus that my first response was to hope he had accepted Christ. I had hoped that was how I would feel when it was finally over, but I didn’t know. Had I harbored bitterness in my heart that I didn’t want to admit? Now, I can honestly say no. I don’t feel different towards him, but I do feel some relief that his part of the story is finally over.

After that, I prayed for his family. At one time, we were close. I prayed for them because I know that no matter when this happened or how his life ended, they had a lot to process. I hope they celebrated that he had given his life to Jesus; and, although his life hurt many, he had found the Savior and is spending eternity with Him.

I think I have different emotions toward each of the abusers in my life.

This man did not go to prison for what he did to me. He went to prison when he was caught with the child he abused after me. I think the fact that he was in prison made me feel a little safer as I moved on in my life, but I never have felt slighted that he didn’t go to prison for what he did to me.

His family has paid a lot of consequences for what he did to me. If anything, I have felt sad for them that their lives were so deeply impacted by his choices.

This whole thing has led me to think about justice. The world says that we should make abusers pay. The payment is prison and the sex offender registry.

I have to admit. Having him on the registry has provided some level of comfort. It isn’t because I want him exposed for what he did. It is because I know where he is. I have known for years that he was far, far away from me. It made me feel safe. 

I spent more than half of my life wondering if he would hurt me, even after the abuse stopped. In a way, knowing where he was made me feel safer.

But, having my abuser in the sex registry or in prison isn’t justice. 

We can’t demand justice. It isn’t our place.

Justice isn’t prison. Justice isn’t having people know where you live. Justice is eternal life in hell. 

It’s what we all deserve. It is the consequence of sin. And, sin isn’t measured by how severely our sin impacts others. Sin isn’t measured against any standard I can set. 

Sin is measured against a holy God. Against His standard, I am just as guilty as my abuser.

Jesus’ death paid for our sins. Jesus didn’t pay for the “little” sins. He didn’t pay for the sins that didn’t hurt other people too badly. Jesus’ life and death defeated all sin and gave us the opportunity to become children of God.

So, to my abuser… You’ll never see this. Your life in this world is over. But, I hope that your life in eternity is with Jesus. I hope that you confessed with your mouth and believed in your heart that Jesus is Lord. I hope to see you in Heaven and hear an amazing story of how Jesus pursued you with His lovingkindness.

To anyone else who is struggling with a sin that seems so big…. Jesus is bigger. He has already paid the price for your sin. The question is if you will choose to confess with your mouth and believe in your heart that Jesus is Lord. I pray you do.

Abby and Eason, I love you.

Mom

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