Tuesday, February 14, 2017

"Raise 'Em and Praise Him - Testimony Tuesday"



Broken but God - Priscilla's testimony

God gives the toughest battles to his toughest soldiers. If this is true, God clearly thinks I am some sort of Black Ops G.I. Jane.

“David stop!” She yelled lifting both of her arms to shield her face from yet another violent swing of his steel toe work boot.

“I’ll stop when you’ve learned your lesson!” He shouted angrily.

He looked like a rabid dog on the loose. I stood conflicted, stuck between being frozen in fear and desperately wanting to pull him off my auntie. He was much too strong and my ten-year-old muscles were no worthy opponent of his drunken rage. I kept trying to figure out what my Aunt Cyn could have done to make him so angry. What could she possibly have said to him to make him feel that the only solution was to repeatedly bash her over the head with his five-pound boot?

When he finally grew weary of beating my dearest aunt, he stormed out, slamming the door violently as he left. As if nearly beating her to death wasn’t enough, he had to leave with a bang (pun intended) and slam the door on his way out. As I helped Aunt Cyn wipe the blood from her face and bandage her wounds, we both wept. I tried to hug her as tight as I could. She squeezed back tightly, sobbing so hard that I could feel her ribs shifting with every deep yell and whimper. In that moment, I told myself that I would never allow a man to hurt me that way. That would be a promise I couldn’t keep!

I remember a story about twin brothers who were raised by an abusive alcoholic father. One of the brothers followed in his father’s footsteps. He, too, became an abusive alcoholic. The other twin never touched alcohol a day in his life; not even a sip. Unfortunately, my story is patterned after the brother who went on to become what he saw. I, too, found myself suffering at the hand of an abusive man, just like my Aunt Cyn. 


At the tender age of 19, I found myself in a verbally and physically abusive relationship. No matter what I did, I could not seem to make him happy. The chicken was never seasoned properly. The bathroom was never clean enough, no matter how long I scrubbed or how much bleach I used. My hair was never enough. Literally, nothing that I did or said pleased him. I often felt like a hamster running aimlessly on a wheel, desperate to please him. Just once, I wanted to feel like I was enough. I longed to feel like I was worthy of his love and affection. Before long, I began to realize that I would never be enough for him and this was not because of any fault of mine.

One day as I was preparing dinner, something inside of me started to boil almost as vigorously as the water for the pasta I was cooking for the spaghetti, which was his favorite. I knew something was off with him, more off than usual. I didn’t know what was going on but I was on high alert and I was ready to do battle that night if I needed to. He walked into the kitchen, brushing past me quickly and heading toward the refrigerator. He grabbed a beer and then went back into the living room and plopped on the couch. That poor couch had become forever stamped with the imprint of his backside because he spent so much time there. Suddenly I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was his full unopened beer can flying full speed toward my head. Thank God I saw it in time to duck. Surely had the can connected with my head I would have been unconscious, and perhaps not here to tell my story. Only God knows had I not been so fortunate, and so quick! Before I could stop to think about what happened, I grabbed the butcher knife out of its wooden block and flung it with all my might at him. “Dang it,” I thought to myself. I missed and it landed in one of our plants instead. “I have got to work on my aim!” I thought. However, if at first, you don’t succeed, you must always try, try again! Try again I did! I picked up the boiling pot of pasta and ran toward him. When he saw, me coming in his direction, he raced into the next room where our toddler son was sleeping, picked him up and held him up in front of his face, using him as a human shield. What a coward! I had never been more disgusted with anyone before in my life. Every ounce of my body hated every ounce of him in that very moment.

The look in my son’s eyes was enough for me to retreat to the kitchen with the hot pot of pasta and call 911. I was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of crying, tired of exposing my son to such dysfunction. I sat on the couch angry and defeated. He had no idea I had called the police until the knock on the door. I sighed a deep sigh of relief. While one officer took the report, the officer one placed Marcus under arrest. Once they had secured him in the back seat of the car, feeling a sense of relief, I cried out to God. Lord, help me.

Moments later, still sitting on the sofa, my son crawled and sat at my feet. Looking at his tiny little hand and realizing how helpless he was dangling in the arms of his crazed father, I cried out again, “Lord have mercy.” In the silence of a few moments, God spoke. “Gather as much as you can and go! You are free to go my child.” I sat and the tears began to flow uncontrollably. A soft voice spoke again, “You are free to go.”

I packed as much as I could in my Volkswagen Jetta, grabbed my son and left. Glory to God, I never looked back!

So, what happened after I left? Was this the end? The full story of my brokenness, my escape, and my deliverance are chronicled in my upcoming testimony, Broken…but God, which is set to release this fall. I am so grateful that God saw me worthy enough to provide a way of escape. God has no respect of person. What he’s done for me, he will do for you too. If you are reading this and you, too, are suffering at the hand of an abuser, or if you know someone who is trapped in the trenches, I want you to know that this is not the end of you. Hold on. Help is on the way! Pray without ceasing and believe that your best life is on the other side of your heartbreak. I am praying with you and for you! Don’t fall into the trap of thinking that there is no way out! God will always provide a way of escape. There is a holy purpose in breaking things and being broken. Our loving Father uses our trials and our brokenness to transform, strengthen and bless us! Only God can give your soul the release it desires.





Priscilla Haley is Southern Girl born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana. She is the President and Founder of “Gods Girlzs With A Vision.” A foundation that is focused on introducing young girls to Jesus Christ and having a personal relationship with him, while also teaching them how to “Dream Big” and embrace their Visions.

She is an author and speaker with a desire to see women who have been broken and set from the bondage of their past. Her book, “Soul Talk” is an anthology of twenty soul-stirring women and their testimonies of how they “Let go and Let God!” scheduled to be released this coming April.


Contact info.
Email: prhaley66@gmail
Phone: 817-689-4071
Instagram:broken_butgod
Twitter: Priscilla Haley@brokenbutgod




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