Oil and Acrylic on Canvas
I’ve just had a God moment. Some months ago, I painted this girl. I never intended to. I had no direction, and no reason. I just did it. While painting, I had difficulty concentrating on technique because of the emotion that was running through me. Upon completion, my husband came in and gazed at her. I asked him to title the painting. He called it “Aftermath”. It meant some things to me, but ever since I have had an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. Even last night, sitting by the fire I looked upon her face, and thought of what she may have come through. I had that feeling in my stomach. I’ve questioned the Lord as to the reason for the painting and have heard no answer.
Until now. Until now! Just now, I was reading in 2 Samuel 13. Why now? I don’t know. God’s always on time. That’s what I know. The chapter tells the horrifying story of Tamar, the daughter of a high king; the daughter that dressed in finery and was a well throught of woman in those days. She was somebody. King David was her daddy. She must have been beautiful as she baked bread for her brother, Amnon. The story goes that he fell in love with her devised a deceptive plan, and raped her after she begged him not to. He did it anyway. Then, he threw her out and bolted the door behind her. She was so distraught that she tore her beautiful robe and put ashes on her head as she ran away crying for help!
To make matters worse, her other brother (half) Absalom instructed her not to take it to heart; because it was her brother who had done this. He told her to be quiet. Scripture says that she lived in Absalom’s house, a “desperate” woman. She had no more hope. No hope of marrying. No hope of having a life, or children.
Tamar would experience the “aftermath” of not only being violated but being “shut up”, and having no voice. She would live in depression as her very soul was now rooted in the vile, foul sexual immorality passed down from the sin of her father. She would live with the rejection which scripture says was worse than the crime. She would have no one to stand for her, or speak for her. She was hopless.
I’m reminded that the holiday season often times, brings such depression for those people suffering in the “aftermath”. My heart grieves for those that are shut-up for whatever reason...whether it’s guilt, shame, threat, or helplessness. I know that confession brings freedom. My prayer is that all of those that are afflicted with depression from a wrong done to them would find their voice, and find freedom. There are resources today to help with that voice. I pray that they are found! Amen!