holding me captive.
As the song came to a close and the other dancers began to separate, my dance partner lightened his grip slightly. With every ounce of fight that I could muster, I squirmed out of his grasp. I frantically scanned the club for my friends, but they were nowhere in sight. My eyes landed on the exit door, and I ran towards it as fast as my trembling legs would go. I fled for safety to the parking lot, hiding behind the wheel of my classmate’s car. The keys were in her purse. I huddled there, hoping he hadn’t seen which direction I went. I didn’t look back. Had he followed me? If he found me now, I was an easy target. I was completely vulnerable in the parking lot, and no one would hear me if I screamed.
What a stupid move.
As I crouched next to the passenger door of my classmate’s car, shivering with cold, fear, and embarrassment, I tried to think of how I could get help. Going back into the club was not an option.
Pray, just pray.
With my eyes wide open, still peering with dread into the darkness, I repeated the same prayer several times.
Lord, please protect me. Please keep me safe from him. Please help my friends to come out soon. I don’t know why I came here, Lord. Please help me to get home safely.
As the minutes passed by, my terror lessened. I tried to tell myself that if he was still looking for me in the parking lot, he would have found me by now. I was freezing, but there was no way I was going back into that bar.
A distinct memory from a few weeks before invaded my thoughts. It was the last thing I wanted to think about at the time, but the reality of my situation brought back the vivid details of this recent frightful memory.
My roommate and I were sound asleep in our apartment, the window propped open for fresh, cool air. We were both startled at two in the morning by a terrifying scream that pierced the night. It came from one of the parking lots eight storeys below our apartment in the student residences. We told ourselves it was probably just some kids partying and goofing around and went back to sleep. We heard the next morning that a female student had been the victim of a rape in the area of our residence. It had happened in a parking lot.
Rumours surrounding the rape were all over campus, and I wasn’t sure about the full truth behind the stories, but there was no doubt that the girl who was attacked that night was devastated. She quit university and moved back home. Her rapist had not been identified or caught. He was still at large.
It seemed like hours before my classmates came out of the club and found me, still crouching by the wheel of the car. I tried to tell them about my fearful situation, but they were too inebriated to care. They just laughed it off. I was the designated driver, once again, despite my trembling hands. I manoeuvred my classmate’s car mechanically down one street, one corner at a time, ignoring the ridiculous jabber of my intoxicated crew. I’m still not sure how we all managed to get home safely that night, but we did.
Was it just luck, or had God answered my feeble, desperate prayer?
As I lay safe and sound in bed at the student residence, I realized that I had survived a threatening situation that could have turned out like the girl who had been raped in the parking lot just below my residence. God protected me and spared me from a potentially life-devastating situation.
Your Story:
A Place of Fear
Thinking Back
• Have you ever been in a life-threatening position or a place of total fear where you knew something devastating could happen to you? Where were you at the time, and what were you doing at that location?
• What personal thoughts or choices led you to finding yourself in this position?
Thinking Inward
• How did your body respond, physically and mentally, to the fearful situation?
• What was your greatest fear about what could happen or what the end result of this situation might be?
Thinking Outward
• Who else was involved? Was there anyone who could have or should have come to your rescue?
• It is a natural response to “hide” memories of fear in our memory vault. Have you shared your memory of fear with someone you trust? Did you sense God’s presence with you at the time?
Thinking Forward
• What have you learned from your past fearful experience(s) to guide you in the future?
• What area of your life still brings you fear or is in need of God’s protection today?
Write a Prayer: Share all of your fears with God and ask Him to protect you from harm and help you conquer the fears.
Dear Heavenly Father,
Your word says that You are an ever-present help in times of trouble (Psalm 46:1) and that You are a refuge and a shield (Psalm 119:114), protecting us in ways we cannot see. I pray that You would protect us and show us how You are helping us through life’s hardships and fearful situations. Remove fear from our lives today, and help us to trust in You.
In Your name, amen.
“God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.”
Psalm 46:1
Chapter 2
Confused
I read and reread the university programs with longing. There were so many appealing options, I wanted to sign up for every one of them.
Typical me. Interested in everything but not naturally gifted in anything.
Not one single gold ribbon existed in my keepsake box, but I had participation ribbons of every kind. I won an athletic award in high school for participating in every intramural sport that was offered. I caught a ride with the neighbours to attend the awards ceremony and receive my award. My parents didn’t come.
Most of my friends in high school were not only encouraged by their parents, they were expected to attend university. But that was not the case with my family. A good job that taught work ethics and allowed you to save some money was the goal to pursue.
Neither of my parents had attended university. My mom had not even had the chance to graduate from high school. My dad, a self-made successful man through hard work and good business choices, had become financially secure without an education. He thought that university would be a waste of time and money for his second oldest daughter, convinced that I would get married and start a family and that the money spent on that education would be wasted.
The private discussions my parents had about important matters were held in their first language, German. My sisters and I did not learn any German. It seemed that German was a “secret language” our parents used when they didn’t want us to know what they were saying. I wondered what they actually said to each other about my career ambitions.
Even though university education was not encouraged, my parents insisted that each one of their four daughters attend one year of Bible college. We could choose the college that
