A Bright New Place

Foreword

Fiona’s book is an inspiring step of faith in courage as she makes herself vulnerable to every reader in order to share hope with those who have suffered horribly and to bring glory to our God of faithfulness, lovingkindness, deliverance, and renewal.
Remarkably, rather than challenging God about how such things could have happened to her, she daily thanks Him for protecting her from the fate that occurs to so many victims of such atrocities, such as commercial sexual exploitation, severe social isolation, debilitating addiction, and/or incarceration. Fiona was one of those statistics waiting to happen if not for God’s intervention, which both bewilders and humbles her.
She is also amazed by God’s unrelenting pursuit for her heart, for Him to bind it up as He draws her ever closer while revealing just how close He has always been. The unconditional, ever-present, unwavering, exceedingly abundant love of Jesus that saves and restores—in His power as King of Kings and gentleness as sacrificial Lamb—is the gospel Fiona illuminates in these pages.
For those blessed to be spared the types of unspeakable crimes that Fiona and all too many others have suffered, an understandable response is “God could not have possibly been anywhere near such evil.” Yet Fiona and her fellow overcomers have different testimonies, the truth of which is beautifully heart-breaking.
So, “spoiler-alert,” God (whether you believe in Him or not) will use the words He gave his daughter Fiona to stir and stretch your heart. He promised, for those who turn to Him, to grant new hearts of flesh rather than stone. And that’s when He can use us.
I don’t believe you can truly minister to a victim of abuse or exploitation as Jesus would if they are approached as a project or ministry or client or patient or outreach—or any other of so many labels that create distance and “othering.” Trust me, I’ve tried. No, you must come beside them as a nephew or niece, uncle or aunt, brother or sister.
I believe God will use this story to spur you to act on behalf of the millions of children being abused right now as Fiona was. Or perhaps to help those who have been delivered from their abuser yet suffer still. Or even to get involved in vulnerable young lives to prevent such evil from occurring to them.
These children aren’t really hard to find. Their symptoms and signals have been identified. Their likely circumstances are well known. Tragically, these are the kids often avoided or condemned.
Whether secluded and silent, provocative and profane, or rebellious and runaways--they are often known as the “weird kid” or the “bad crowd.” They are the ones many kids don’t invite to birthday parties and the ones many parents don’t let their children hang around.
I’d like to suggest that we extend “loving our neighbors as ourselves” to “loving our neighbors’ children as our own.” In these pages, you’ll yearn to love Fiona as a neighbor kid when she was 13 years old. While you’ve missed the chance to love teenage Fiona, I believe God has already picked a neighbor kid for you. He or she might be in the house next door, a foster group home, a homeless shelter, juvenile hall, or—just like Fiona—one pew behind you in church.
Let God soften your heart and open your eyes, I promise He’ll show you the one.

Mark Fisher
World Vision Child Ambassador
Red Window Project U.S. Director

Chapter 5 – Breaking My Silence (excerpt)

Confession
I have heard
That in situations like ours
It’s not uncommon
For you to come
Seeking forgiveness

You will get sick
And want to be pardoned
Knowing I carry a grudge
Knowing I hate you

What a satisfying fantasy –
I will have something you want
That you cannot steal

“I’m sorry” will not be enough
I want a Full Confession
That you do remember
That all these years
You have been full of shit
Acting so ignorant

I want to hear you justify
My pain
My fear
My anger

Only when I get what I want
Would I consider
Giving you what you need

I have no intention
Of making this easy for you
So don’t wait until you’re so sick
You don’t have the strength
To face me.
It would be very disappointing.
Fiona 1988

I tried Survivors of Incest Anonymous (yes, that it a real support group) but I couldn’t handle it. I was so new with being open and I was deeply entrenched in pain and anger. My feelings were raw and I was vulnerable. I was barely managing my own story. The stories of the other ladies flooded me beyond what I could bear. I didn’t have the tools or the understanding to cope with what was being said in that room. When I left the first meeting, I had to pull over to the side of the road and sob.

After that failed attempt of getting closer to the source of my greatest distress, our Heavenly Father in His caring provision connected me with Chloe. God was honoring my desire to be well. In Deuteronomy 20:4 we are given this promise: “For the Lord your God is the One who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies and to give you victory.” I was still suffering with the enemies of fear, shame, migraines and suffocating nightmares. The Lord was “watching over my coming and going both now are forevermore.” Psalm 121:8. He had not forgotten me.

Chloe loved me and I trusted her enough to let her in to my bruised heart and the most wounded parts of me. Some sessions I felt like I was on the edge of cliff and I didn’t know if I would survive the intimate work that we were doing. She took me to the very darkest places and shone in the healing light of compassion and acceptance.

Week after week I brought her my most horribly tragic memories and told her things I couldn’t previously bear to say out loud. Even the words were terrible. It hurt so much. She never looked surprised, never frowned at me, never told me I was wrong to feel like I did. She kept patiently asking me questions and she held me when I cried.

Her office was the safest places on earth during that difficult season. The first time she cried with me changed me. I left that evening different than when I first came through her office door. She could see right through me. Nothing I said shocked her so I kept talking and talking until I was completely poured out. I was scattered in pieces by my violent childhood and she slowly patched me back together.

On her couch, she walked me back to that basement bedroom and together we watched that monster steal my innocence over and over again. I wanted my stuffed dog Rover to be my shield. I hated going back there but I believed Chloe when she told me that by looking back at that wounded frightened little girl with the eyes of an adult I would gain a different perspective and be able to feel better.