BY
DELILAH MCGILL
AS TOLD TO
PAT BANTA KREML

The year my son, Ian, turned 14 an evangelist came to the Christian Revival Center in Baltimore, Maryland for a special revival. As the man of God began to preach, it became clear that this was no ordinary service, but I could not have foreseen how much one revelation from that service would devastate my spiritual life.

“God told me that someone here needs to hear this message,” the evangelist said. “Just because God’s hand is on us,” he paused, “doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen to us.” His eyes searched the congregation as if he could actually see into each heart. “God doesn’t bring the evil, but we can’t live in denial that the evil happened.”

By then, the preacher had everyone’s attention. He told how he struggled for years before he could acknowledge the sexual abuse he suffered as a child and allow God to heal him. He was a well educated man with a voice both strong and kind. Every word he spoke rang true.

“God wants to heal the hearts of those who have been wounded through no fault of their own. If that is you, don’t just sit there broken, bruised, waiting for someone to bring you to the altar. Get up out of your seat! Go now!” His words were as much a command as an invitation.

As people came forward, I knew some of the situations: domestic violence, broken marriages, spousal abuse. I was an alter worker and an elder in the church, so I prayed with one, then another. My heart filled with compassion for those who had come forth. “Lord, help them to forgive and let go. Restore their peace, Lord,” I prayed as I laid hands on the wounded. But when I looked across to the far right of the altar, my heart fell to my feet. My son, Ian, stood at the front with arms up, broken and in tears. One of the special needs that had been called out was for those who had been sexually abused. He had responded to that call.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. I couldn’t even hear the voices crying out all around me. I could only hear the thoughts racing through my mind. When did this happen? Where did this happen? Where was I when this assault took place? I’m a good mother. Good mothers protect their children. I didn’t protect Ian. Then my feet were moving. I pushed through the crowd empowered by the force of anger and hatred that invaded my soul. How can I avenge my son’s injury? I must find the animal who did this.

When I reached Ian he all but lay in my arms and sobbed. Then he looked up at me through tears loaded down so heavy with pain that they flooded his face and spilled on to both of us. “I’m sorry I never told you, Mom,” he said. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My tears mingled with Ian’s as I rocked my baby and struggled to keep breathing.

The evangelist came over, laid hands on Ian, and prayed. Then he literally lifted Ian out of my arms and said, “Son, it’s time to let go the lies that the enemy told you. What happened was not your fault, you hear me. Not your fault. You’ve got to let it go. Forgive. God’s going to give you the strength to share this testimony with other young people who have been through the same thing.”

Ian’s healing and restoration began that night, but mine was nowhere in sight. My anger burned white hot. Only vengeance would extinguish the flames. I closed my heart to God’s voice; pushed away the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit. All I could feel was pure love for my son and pure hate for his attacker.

I became obsessed with figuring out when such a heinous crime could have occurred. I didn’t believe in step-parenting, so I didn’t even date. I didn’t “hang out” or “hook up” with men, so there were no men staying over at my house. I worked nights so I could be with Ian in the day. I chaperoned on school trips. Ian was always with me. I would never leave him with someone I didn’t know.

Then I remembered. When Ian was five we were apart for about six months. I had to move two hours away to start a new job and get established. Ian stayed with my mother. And this creature—someone we knew and trusted—had been there too. No more a faceless, nameless animal, he had a name. I knew him well. The reckless heat of my anger turned cold and calculating. I knew what I had to do. I would hurt this man who took my son’s innocence.

The spirit of hurt is a powerful force. For that season, it controlled me. I invited it in when I refused to let forgiveness work in my heart. As the evangelist had said, just because God has His hand on you and is using you, it doesn’t mean bad things won’t happen. It also doesn’t mean that you can’t choose to stray. I chose to let murder enter my heart. Now I would set my plan in motion.

I stopped praying the day I figured out who the abuser was. I also stopped crying. First, I sat Ian down and told him, “I want you to know that I still love you. Nothing has changed. I am still—and always will be—your greatest fan.”

“I know that, Mom. I’m just sorry I never told you. I just didn’t know what to do. How to deal with it,” he said.

“That’s okay. It’s all going to be okay now. You have the Holy Spirit to help you, and I will always be there for you. I’ll do my best to protect you from now on.” I wondered if he detected the edge of cold steel in my last words. I meant to protect him in the only way my flesh could conceive.

I planned to drive down to Florida and shoot Ian’s attacker. After that I didn’t care what happened to me. I signed over Ian’s legal guardianship to my mother. “Just in case something happens to me,” I told her. I was ready to go, but on that Tuesday, my car just stopped working. No matter, I’ll just catch a ride with my cousin when his truck route goes south. The Post Office laid off 400 workers that week. I was one of them. Great, I won’t have to take time off from work. My life was already over. Nothing mattered but the hate that burned in my soul.

And yet God still loved me. Even in the midst of my darkness, His light could not be extinguished because light ALWAYS prevails over darkness. Truth ALWAYS triumphs over lies. After two weeks, I still hadn’t left town, but the one person I had sworn to protect was watching me self-destruct. Ian did not know what I had planned to do, but he knew I was in deep spiritual and mental trouble. One day as we sat talking he said, “Mom, you haven’t heard a word I said.” It was true. My mind was so trapped on the merry-go-round of hate and vengeance that all other life became a blur around me.

Then Ian looked at me with such love and simple God-like trust and said, “Mom, if I can forgive him, you have to too.”

Right then the love of God that keeps us even when we can’t keep ourselves; that protects us not just from the devil, but from ourselves, flooded my heart. I cried out, “God, what was it all for? I wanted to be the best mom for this precious gift You’ve given me. How can I live with what I know? Help me, Lord. Please help me.” And He did.

That day the restoration of my soul began, but took over two years before all of the anger and bitterness were finally expunged. During that time I leaned heavily on verses like Jeremiah 33:3; I Peter 5:6,7; and Psalms 23 for strength and solace. I passed from anger, to hurt and finally to grief. Grief is as serious an emotion as anger or hate. It should not be ignored or wallowed in. Denial is NOT FAITH. Grief must be acknowledged so it can be dealt with and overcome.

As the evangelist prophesied, Ian’s testimony did help many teenagers. Today he is blessed with a strong teaching/preaching gift. He’s an accomplished musician, has a wonderful wife, and serves God faithfully. Even though I still can’t answer the question, Why did this happen? I know that all things do work together for good, “…to those who love the Lord and are the called according to His purpose.” And I can declare with King David, “He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul.”


Delilah is a Vietnam veteran. She served in the military from 1972 to 1977, and was honorably discharged. She is the oldest of four sisters and two brothers. Although Ian is her only natural son, she also helped raise four foster boys. Currently Delilah drives a school bus for the Polk County School System. She loves to sing and praise God, and has a passion for discipleship.