My first counselor was a well known Al-Anon speaker. I was familiar with her for I'd already been in Alateen for over a year. She spoke at open meetings. I wasn't sure what to make of her.
She was the one my mom talked to about being my counselor. I know I didn't talk hardly at all. She did the talking. I listened with my head down looking at my lap. If you looked at me you wouldn't know whether I was a boy or a girl. I had long hair that hid my face, a t-shirt with a black leather coat, well worn jeans and well worn gym shoes. I was more a boy than a girl. I preferred it that way.
My outward appearance kept people away from my broken heart. I opened up to nobody, I socialized with nobody, I went to school and talked with nobody, I lived at home and was treated like nobody. Why would I ever think I was somebody? Let alone, somebody God would pay attention to let alone die for on a wooden cross between two common thieves?
The counselor labeled me gay at age 17. She misdiagnosed extensive sexual and physical abuse. Or at least that's what I told myself. I accepted Jesus payment for my sin at age twenty. I asked her what the bible said about homosexuality. She said it was written when men were leaving their wives for other men. It was written a long time ago.
I didn't believe her. Her methods and beliefs were not based on the truths in scripture. I decided to leave. It was the best decision I made for my recovery and for my identity.
Then came Liz then Carol then Jeff then Julie then Faith. Not so many over a thirty-two year span. Each one with their own set of rules, ways of doing things, insights and shortcomings.
The cure for my broken heart has been entrusted with each of them at different times, at different levels, in different ways for different reasons. Four of the five are concrete believers.
Who is the ultimate healer of broken hearts? Jesus.
Here's a brief excerpt from Beth Moore:
