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A
New Name
By Sandra Aslesen
After
numerous episodes of childhood sexual abuse, I
had no idea who I was. A total lack of personal
boundaries led me into eight years of lesbian
relationships and extreme emotional dependency.
My
childhood was marked by repeated traumas. I was
separated from my mother at birth due to jaundice,
a reaction to a blood Rh-factor problem. When
I was thirteen months old, I was scalded with
coffee. Second and third degree burns covered
over sixty percent of my body.
Though I have no conscious memory of the event,
that same year I witnessed my 13-year-old brother
accidentally shoot and kill my 11-year-old brother.
Within five years of my birth, three of my siblings
had died.
At age seven, I was hospitalized for stress-related
ulcers, pneumonia, and other medical problems.
Over the next six years, I was hospitalized at
least once a year for pneumonia. The hospital
was the only secure environment I can remember
while growing up.
My father was a passive, non-abusive alcoholic.
My mother avoided her own pain by being very talkative,
but only on surface issues. We were a household
of emotionally frozen people. There were no rules
or boundaries placed upon me by either parent.
"Just let us know where you are and what
you want to do," was all I heard.
Sexual abuse and incest occurred in my life numerous
times. One brother abused me a couple of times
when I was only four and five years old. Later
in childhood, I was molested by three other people
on separate occasions. All these molestations,
coupled with the shame of having a leering uncle
who always made me feel naked, left me with a
rather warped perception of sex. My basic coping
method was to view everyone as genderless; I also
avoided men as much as possible.
"1 would never hurt you," my Dad used
to say, which I interpreted to mean that he would
not force me into an incestuous relationship.
In that sense, Dad never "hurt me"-but
I never remember being hugged, affirmed or told,
"I love you." After his eventual death
in 1985, it seemed like he had never lived or
had any impact on my life at all.
From the time I was very young, 1 looked after
myself. I simply didn't know of any other option.
Ironically, the brother who molested me was the
only family member who said he would defend me.
Growing up, I didn't feel attracted to either
men or women. I dated a couple of guys, but didn't
become emotionally involved. The relationships
were strictly platonic.
When I was 18, I rented a room in the house of
one of my professors. Another guy living there
had just broken up with his girlfriend. He began
to initiate a relationship with mc, hut I was
keenly aware that he just wanted an "interim
fix" while his girlfriend got over her anger.
This guy was not subtle in his invitations. "Hey,
Sandy," he asked me, "Would you like
to make love?" I kept declining, but finally
let him kiss me. Unexpectedly, I felt myself powerfully
responding to him. Then, suddenly, came the turn-off.
"I gotcha," he murmured, and my heart
turned as cold as an ice-covered rock.
I will not yield control any further, I thought.
This man will not win. I will not be used and
then discarded! I slammed the door on my emotional
and physical response and left the room-and the
relationship.
Less than a year later, my affections became fixated
on women. My lesbian activities began as an emotional
dependency with a girlfriend, and led to sexual
relationships with numerous women over a period
of eight years.
My struggles with emotional dependency centered
on two factors: A deep longing to be protected,
and having no sense of personal boundaries, the
latter stemming from my alcoholic family and the
sexual abuse of my youth.
I became a Christian in the fall of 1983, hut
my "crash and burn" cycle of emotional
dependency continued to repeat itself for the
next five years. By then I realized this cycle
wouldn't be broken without a major catalyst.
I still had not accepted the fact that homosexuality
was an issue in my life. I merely considered myself
an opportunist. If I happened to fall in love
with a woman, well, that's just the way it was.
What bothered me most wasn't the sin cycle itself,
but that it kept blocking my walk with God.
I desperately wanted to know Him, but I couldn't
see any possible escape from my sinful
patterns.
Then, with perfect timing and incredible love,
God set up a "divine appointment" when
the time was ripe for me to begin facing my lesbianism.
In July 1988, 1 saw an old acquaintance from college
who had moved away a couple of years earlier.
He told me about his past struggles with homosexuality
and emotional dependency, and what the Lord had
done through Love In Action's live-in program.
I want that, too, I thought, knowing that I desperately
needed a structured situation to help me quit
running. Within a few weeks I'd applied to Love
In Action.
However, by the fall of that year, I was out of
fellowship-and making many wrong choices, based
on a horrible "last fling" mentality.
My last six weeks before moving to California
turned into one long chain of sin. It was Satan's
. . . last-ditch attempt to keep me in bondage.
In great denial and rebellion, I arrived in San
Rafael on January 1, 1989. 1 was completely shut
down emotionally-but still the healing process
began. By now, Jesus had been my Savior five years.
I was well grounded in His word and had ample
knowledge about Him, but He was still not in control
of my life.
At our opening house retreat, a gifted leader
prayed over each one of us. I was very afraid
and skeptical of charismatic activity, but his
words pierced my heart.
"You are like a wild black stallion,"
he told me, "strong and powerful, but needing
to be made gentle and tamed. God will change your
fighting into submission, so that at His slightest
whisper, you will obey." This man knew my
deep desire for total obedience to the Lord. I
was amazed.
A month later I went to an all-church women's
retreat held in the redwood forest of Northern
California. There my life irrevocably changed,
as God birthed in me the reality of our theme
song:
I will change your name, you shall no longer
be called
Wounded, outcast, lonely, and afraid.
I will change your name, your new name shall
be:
Confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one,
Faithfulness, friend of God, one who seeks My
face. *
On
a drizzly, chilly Saturday in the stump of a burned
out redwood tree, I yielded my whole heart to
God. He became my Lord; I knew there was no turning
back. He promised to change my name from "rebellious"
to "yielded," and turn my inner desert
to a lush, verdant garden.
As my memorial to this event, I began to use my
full name from that day on. Sandy became Sandra.
I dropped all abbreviations and nicknames. My
"official" signature went from a scrawled
set of impersonal initials to the fullness of
my whole name, an indication of God replacing
the cheap imitations in my life with His truth
and reality. From that point on, my life began
to change significantly.
God gave me a key to unlock my emotions: singing.
I love to sing, so He showed me that if I would
sing out my hurts and feelings, they could come
to the surface and be healed.
Through the vehicle of song I brought up and experienced
anger toward my parents' injustices for the very
first time. A veritable storm of emotions came
bursting forth.
Then, in the quiet aftermath, God's love broke
into my heart as never before. I had a wonderful
sense of being a newborn baby, cradled in her
Daddy's arms. I felt warm and secure, and looked
up to see His eyes of love for the very first
time.
Later I ran across a field with outstretched arms,
shouting and laughing in my newfound discovery.
"Daddy loves me! My Daddy loves me!"
I yelled over and over again, my heart bursting
with joy.
The next morning God confirmed that my hungry,
desperate quest to be known was ended. He spoke
to me through a verse I had read countless times:
"Oh Lord, Thou hast searched me and known
me" (Ps 139:1, NASB).
God
was creating in me a new sense of identity. Throughout
my life, my personhood had been vague; I had no
sense of self or boundaries. I didn't know where
I stopped and someone else began. What I'd done
since childhood was simply transfer my emotional
dependency from person to person. They weren't
separate relationships-but more like one single
"serial dependency."
Sometimes these friendships had taken on subtle,
civilized forms, giving the illusion of "normal"
relationships, when actually they just kept growing
uglier and stronger.
Once I could see the whole picture, God asked
me to renounce my identity of being an idolatrous,
emotionally dependent person. I was terrified.
How can I give up what little identity I have,
I wondered, no matter how wrong or false that
identity is? It meant being laid bare before
the Lord and trusting Him to build a true identity
in me, revealing the woman He created.
As I yielded, 1 gained an awesome sense of freedom
from old thought patterns. It was really fun getting
to know myself for the very first time. My new
identity developed gradually. While God was preparing
me to renounce the lies, simultaneously He built
up my new sense of self.
Interestingly, as my life and identity came into
sharper focus, so did the healing process. What
was vast and unknown in 1989 has narrowed down
to two key issues: a need for boundaries, and
a need for protection.
Now I'm much more prepared to face these old issues.
My security in Christ has increased dramatically.
1 still face the challenge of fully dealing with
past sexual abuse and my problem with trust-especially
toward men.
But the Lord is walking me through these issues,
one step at a time. A new beginning came in the
fall of 1989, when I became friends with a man
at my church. What began as a casual friendship
gradually deepened into a desire for life-long
commitment.
On November 16, 1991, my name changed again, this
time from Sandra Spencer to Sandra Asiesen. My
wedding marked another miracle, one of the most
exciting days of my life! Now I continue the healing
process while walking side-by-side with Steve,
my life companion and friend.
As I continue to obey God's loving guidance. my
relationship with Him grows sweeter and deeper.
That is what healing is all about-the freedom
to receive His love and then share it with others.
By far the greatest reward of all is getting to
know God, and becoming a reflection of His love,
redemption, and restoration. 1 delight daily in
the new name and identity He has given to me.
*I Will Change Your Name' by D. 1. Butler.
Copyright o 1987 by Mercy Publishing. Used by
permission.
Sandra
Aslesen is a women's counselor at Love In Action.
She and her husband, Steve, are members of Church
of the Open Door in San Rafael. This testimony
is adapted from Out of Egypt Leaving Lesbianism
Behind by Jeanette Howard (Monarch Publications).
Copyright©1991 by Jeanette Howard. Used by
permission.
Distributed by:
Love In Action
P0 Box 2655
San Rafael. CA 94912.
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