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Forgiven: A Story of Redemption
Forgiven: A Story of Redemption
Forgiven: A Story of Redemption
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Forgiven: A Story of Redemption

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She slowly evolved from a free-spirited five-year-old girl, into a cold, angry woman needing to survive. Then one day everything changed. Redemption visited her in the night, and the pain that had kept her enslaved for years, melted away in the loving arms of Jesus.
In a riveting voice, Bonnie leads readers from her darkest valleys to the summit of divine healing, as the light of Christ shines into her life and gives her the grace to find freedom in forgiveness.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 19, 2018
ISBN9781486616213
Forgiven: A Story of Redemption

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    Forgiven - Bonnie Rawling

    Books

    Foreword

    Have you ever wondered why a sovereign, all powerful, loving God depicted in Scripture would allow His precious children to suffer injustice, humiliation, and hardship? Divine love is hard to fathom when one chooses to love others in this place called earth.

    I am delighted to recommend Forgiven by my friend, Bonnie Rawling. Risking to love is filled with twists and turns, especially in our relationships with significant others. This book isn’t just another saga of how the world turns, but rather presents a gripping antidote to how true love can expose the essence of rich intimacy … a longing we all crave.

    Bonnie takes the reader through the euphoria of victory and the agony of defeat as love is extended and encountered. Readers will experience the ups and downs of human love and recognize that when Christ’s divine love shines through, our relationships can thrive.

    Bonnie desires to awaken the soul to the message of divine forgiveness found ultimately through the power of God as displayed in the perfect life of Jesus. Her genuine relationship with Jesus Christ has given Bonnie the courage to endure the ride on top of the waves of hope and trust, and on the landscape of sheer abandonment.

    From the first chapter to the last, Bonnie shares her story of brokenness and pain as love between trusted individuals goes awry. One initially wonders if this story will end abruptly after her many traumatic experiences. As the story continues, however, it becomes evident how God teaches her through her trials to yield her will to His and experience the depth of His love. In the events that follow, we see her desperate need to seek out His heart and be loved by Him.

    We are children of the King, and our Heavenly Father shows Himself in the most unpredictable moments of life. He is free to do as He pleases, because He is good and doesn’t have to explain or share His reasons. However, He has chosen to reveal Himself and His heart through Jesus Christ. He gave us His Son and Holy Spirit to demonstrate to humanity His unconditional love and desire to forgive, save, strengthen, and guide us.

    Bonnie life’s story demonstrates that you can look upon your problems and losses and eventually say God is trustworthy, even when life doesn’t make sense. Oh sure, one is tempted to look upon the situation and ask Why? But Jesus wants us to ask, Why not?

    Read on and be inspired!

    —A Pastor Friend

    Harry Unger

    Taber, Alberta

    Introduction

    There’s a story in the Bible about a woman at a well (John 4:5–42). Jesus and His disciples were on their way to Galilee, and they passed by this well. Jesus stopped to rest there while His disciples went farther into town to get food. It was midday and really hot, and all of the women would have already fetched water earlier in the day before the heat of the day came. But a Samaritan woman came to the well to fetch water while Jesus was there.

    Jesus was a Jew. She was a Samaritan. At that time, many Jews thought that Samaritans were unclean. Talking to a Samaritan, let alone a Samaritan woman, was not accepted at all. Also, it was somewhat peculiar that this woman came to draw her water during this time of the day, rather than early in the morning with the other women.

    The fact is, this woman lived a life of shame. She had been married five times, and the man she was living with wasn’t even her husband. Whether she felt too ashamed and unworthy to be around others, or she was ostracized by the other women because of the way she lived, isn’t known. My guess is that it was a combination of the two, and that’s why she was at the well when she thought no one else would be there.

    Nevertheless, while they were at the well together, Jesus started talking to this woman. Not only did He talk to her, but He told her everything she ever did. He told her things about herself that few people could have known. But He didn’t say these things in a condemning way. He did it in such a way that she felt an incredible healing touch from Him.

    Jesus showed her unconditional love and acceptance, and she was so touched and healed that she went into town, proclaiming to everyone about this man she had met. Could He be the Messiah that they were waiting for? To the people who, just that very morning, she was too ashamed to be around she now boldly proclaimed that she’d had a healing encounter with this prophet! The people of Samaria were so amazed at the change in her that they went out to see for themselves this man Jesus.

    ***

    Can we just be honest? We live in such a hurting world, a world that’s craving for honesty, realness, and authenticity. Young people are hurting; adults, marriages, families, even elderly people are hurting! I believe that we’re all starving for authentic relationships. When we don’t find what we need in healthy, positive relationships, we look for it in unhealthy ones. I believe the cause of all of this hurt is that we’ve asked God to excuse Himself from our lives, our kids’ lives, our schools, our society, and, in some cases, even our churches.

    We want to make our own mark, make a difference, make a name for ourselves, be a good person, be the best—better than the next person—show what we’re made of, and show the world we can do it on our own. Really, we just want to be our own god.

    We’re so busy trying to make sure that everyone thinks we have it all together—covering up our insecurities, fears, and problems with our big houses, fancy cars, diamonds on our hands, and the stuff in our lives—that we can’t afford to be real.

    We don’t need God; He just gets in the way of our plans and our image. And besides, the stuff that He wants us to be real about is buried deep, and it would hurt way too much to bring it all up. The past is in the past, and it should just stay there. We don’t want to really hear from Him anyway, because we may not like what He says!

    I believe that it’s time we start reclaiming what belongs to Him—our lives. It’s time to get real, people. I believe we are at a crucial time in history, and we need to get real! So I am going to be completely honest with you. I’m going to get real with you.

    I’m no different than that woman at the well. Like that woman, I’ve been married several times—four, in fact. Whoa! Now maybe you’re thinking, What kind of person are you? I thought you were a Christian. Maybe doubts rise in your mind about my character, my integrity … maybe even judgments like Who does that? Maybe you’re thinking, I don’t want to read any further.

    Well, let me tell you my story. Let me help you understand me. Let me take you on a walk of hope and forgiveness. Follow me, and allow me to take you there.

    ***

    Before you venture into this book, I challenge you with this: I wrote this book not to preach, not to judge, and not to condemn. I wrote it simply because I believe that it is part of my life call to share my story, inspire others, give hope, and bring glory to God.

    Mine is a story of brokenness, hurt, pain, anger, and a very messed-up life. It’s about how God came to me in a vision, changed my life, and gave me a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). It’s a story of new beginnings, hope, forgiveness, and the grace of God that is only found in Jesus. But before you read on, I encourage you to think about the following.

    Everyone has one, maybe two, people in their life that they really would rather not have to deal with. Maybe you don’t want to see them ever again. Maybe it’s someone you see every day and wish you didn’t have to. It may be a family member, a co-worker, or someone at school who picks on you. Maybe it’s your own mom or dad, your brother or sister. It may be a former boyfriend or girlfriend, an ex-spouse, or a former in-law. Is it someone who really hurt you? Or someone at church or at work to whom you would rather not have to stop and talk? Maybe it’s just someone you think is really messed up and beyond hope or beyond reaching. Maybe that person is you. I know I have been that person for other people.

    Think about that person for a minute. What do you really think of him or her? What would you like to see happen to that person? Be honest with yourself. Now set those thoughts aside for a time and come along with me on this journey.

    One last note: my intentions for writing this book are to bring a message of forgiveness by sharing my story, to bring a message of hope and healing to people who have perhaps been through similar circumstances, who are in them, or who are simply looking for hope. I want to share my story honestly, authentically, and transparently without causing hurt, blame, or ill-feeling towards others; therefore, when I speak of people who are interwoven in my past, I have omitted the use of their names. As for my children, for the protection of relationships, I will refer to each of them using the first initial of their names.

    It is not my intention to bring attention to anyone, to put others in a bad light, or to cause hurt. I simply want to tell my story and how God has saved such a wretch like me. This is a story about Jesus, and He is the only one who needs attention in my story. Because of His forgiveness, I am able to forgive. Because of His love, I am able to love. Because of His grace, I am able to show grace. Because of His mercy, I have hope.1

    Chapter One

    Night of Terror: The Light Comes On

    Stop it! You’re going to kill my mommy! D screamed in horror as she and J climbed on my husband’s bare back, desperately scratching him to make him loosen his grip from around my throat.

    He was on the driver’s side of my Sante Fe, reaching through the open back door. I was on the other side, at the open back door, where I had been trying to get R’s car seat done up. He had me by the throat and was trying to shove my head under the back of the front passenger seat, and I could see my two girls peering at me over his head.

    All I could do was try to keep my balance. Any attempt to loosen his grip just gave him more strength to push my head farther under the seat. Besides, it was useless. With his long, gangly, outstretched arms and his strength, there was no way I could fight back. But I knew if he managed to get me out of the way for long enough, he’d have time to get R’s straps off her shoulders and get her out of her toddler seat.

    I will never forget looking up over his head and seeing the terror in D’s face. She could see that I couldn’t breathe very well, and from the panic in her face it was clear that she really thought he was going to kill me.

    The girls’ scratching became even more desperate as they tried to get him off of me. He finally relented and struck back at the girls. That bought me some time to scramble up and try to get R safely buckled up.

    My husband realized that I was succeeding with the toddler seat, and he charged back into the back seat of the truck. He pushed my head with such force that it threw me off balance and sent me flying backwards. I landed hard on my butt on the sidewalk. He grabbed R out of her seat and rested her on his left hip. As I desperately ran around to the other side of the SUV, I told J and D to go into the house and lock the doors.

    I fought to get R out of his arms. She was crying, traumatized, and afraid. He reached out with his free arm, grabbed my waist-length hair, and used it to twist my body around until I was on my knees on the ground. Then he kicked my back with his bare foot so I crashed face first into the gravel. I picked myself up, and he grabbed my hair again, twisting it in his hand until he had me by the back of the head, and he threw me back onto the ground.

    Again, I picked myself back up. This time he grabbed my right arm, twisted it, and lifted it up high above my body, forcing me to my knees. I could feel burning in my shoulder, and I heard the ripping of my ligaments, but I didn’t have time to think about the pain.

    He put his foot on my back and pinned me down with his weight. When I tried to get up, he pulled on my arm harder and higher and pushed down harder with his foot on my back. Then he dropped my arm and continued his attack with his bare feet, kicking me in the stomach from underneath as I tried to steady myself on my elbows and push myself up. He turned and headed across the yard, and I managed to pull myself up and catch up to him as he crossed the yard towards his truck with R still on his hip.

    You want more do ya, you b––? Again, he grabbed my hair and used it to twist my body until I was once again at his mercy and limp on my knees. Another blow with his foot, and I was face first into the gravel. There, that oughtta keep you down for a while, you stupid b––!

    My husband was bound and determined to leave with my youngest little girl, R. D, my eight-year-old, unafraid of his state, came to me and desperately shovelled through all of my hair so she could see my face. Mommy, she cried hysterically, are you okay? Mommy? He’s going to take R, Mommy! You have to get up, Mommy!

    She was becoming hysterical, as she could see the progress he was making towards his truck. Mommy, Mommy, are you okay? Mommy, you have to get up. He’s going to take R. Mommy, get up! He’s getting to his truck.

    I could hear the terror in her voice, the fear of what was going to happen to her little sister, so I got up and ran after him again to try to stop him from leaving with my little girl.

    Oh, you still want more, you little b––? Haven’t had enough yet? Well, I’ll give you some more if you want it that bad! He laughed and mocked my relentless attempts to keep him from taking my little girl. I could hear my two-year-old, R, whimpering as he held her on his left hip while he took care of me with his other arm. Once again, he went after his greatest weapon, my long hair, and used it to twist my head back, bring me to my knees,

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