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Pastor Mark, I read your book, Forgiving The Nightmare. It’s wonderfully written. You have a remarkable healing that God has given you, and in Forgiving The Nightmare, you describe the nightmare of abuse and suffering that you have gone through for years. Can you please share what happened in your childhood?
I’d be honored to share it with you. And again, thank you so much. When I reached out to you, I just wanted to find places where I could lift up the name of Jesus and share the testimony of where God has brought me through. Throughout my whole testimony, I don’t have the answers, but God does. So, my testimony, unfortunately, is an ugly one because it deals with abuse and neglect. Far too many people share that same testimony. At the age of seven, my mom would marry a man 20 years her junior. He came into our home, and he would abuse me in every way, shape, and form. He would emotionally, physically, sexually, and verbally abuse me and take everything from me from the ages of 7 to 14. And all those years that I was living through that experience of just being held down and held back and just trapped in fear and insecurity and pain. I didn’t know any other way in those seven years. The pain was the atmosphere and oxygen that I lived in. All around me was the abuse. I didn’t know any other way. And at 14 years old, I didn’t understand why I was 14 and not 13 or 12, but something clicked inside me, and I fought back. I fought back in two ways. First of all, it was a physical way. Now, it wasn’t a Rocky Balboa moment or a Mike Tyson moment, but you know, I just pushed my attacker off me, and I fought back physically. Still, at the same time, I found somebody in my family who would stick up for me, somebody who was strong enough and who believed me. I went to this loved one, and I told them about what was happening. And it was a different time, you know.
I’m on the other side of 50. See all this gray hair? The generation I was a part of was the late 1970s and early 1980s. People didn’t talk about things like this, even when they were happening. My mother came from a generation where you knew you left your dirty laundry at home. You didn’t tell anybody anything or deal with it or talk about it, but it was the underbelly of many people’s stories. So, from 1977 to 1984, I was being abused. And I went to this loved one, and they protected me with their might, with their power, and with their spirit. And because of those two events, at 14, I can tell you the abuse ended. And it never came back. I was never physically abused again after being 14. The abuse stopped because of those who protected me. Now, I wish I could tell you that was the end of the story. And I could say, you know, after 14, everything was peaceful and easy, but it was just the beginning of Forgiving The Nightmare.
How did you first come to know Christ, and how did you go from just surviving to beginning to thrive?
Well, I found myself back at my mom’s house, and I was that kind of kid who never wanted to be home and outstayed my welcome—that kid for whom they set another plate for dinner. At the time, we were living in an apartment complex, and I spent a lot of time at the pool. I was a 15-year-old kid, and I was at the pool in the middle of the courtyard. There was a lifeguard, and I think she was about 16. She asked me to go to church with her, and to be honest, I would have gone anywhere that lifeguard asked me to go. She invited me to church on a Friday or midweek night, and I walked into the church, having never experienced the charismatic, evangelical, or Pentecostal expression. I never saw hands being lifted, drums being played, and guitars being strummed. And I went in there, and the youth pastor had a mullet. It was the 80s. They explained the gospel and spoke of God’s love. I knew I wanted and needed that love, but I wasn’t sure if God loved me because I didn’t like myself. The abuse stole not just a pound of flesh but also my dignity, value, importance, and so many things emotionally and psychologically. As much as it stole the flesh and took that away, I was also confused, broken, and kind of not understanding it all, but the church poured out its love for me. And on a Friday night, not too many weeks after my first visit, one of the youths was giving me a ride home. He was cool. He had a car, and I didn’t. He asked me right there in a parking lot if I wanted to make Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior, and I said what we call the sinner’s prayer. Lord, come into my heart. Forgive me of my sins. I receive you as my Savior. I said that prayer, and I was probably too young or too immature to really understand the depth of the prayer that I was saying. But thank God He knew what I was saying. And then there I was, the summer when I was 15 or 16 years old. There I was in the middle of that summer. I asked Christ to become my savior. And there, the journey began to walk with Jesus.
Did you yearn for the peace you once felt?
Of course, I craved the peace, grace, and mercy. All I knew was I felt a love and an acceptance like I had never felt before. For me, the church truly became a sanctuary, and I don’t just mean that in a holy sense; I mean that in a protective sense, like a bird sanctuary or an animal sanctuary. I was there every time the church doors opened. I was there for senior adult meetings. I was even there for some of the MOPS meetings. The church doors opening meant I was there; it was a safe, accepting place where I began to learn about God, God’s love for us, and the Holy Spirit. I began studying God’s Word and grew in my faith.
Was it soon after that you realized you were being called to be a pastor?
Well, you know, any time God has called me to something, I’ve wrestled because of my insecurities, my fears, and because the shackles that were holding the lies of my past were trying to steal the hope of my future. And there I was again. I was just a young man, about 16 or 17 years old. By this time, I had become a fixture in the youth group. I attended all the pizza parties, roller skating rinks, sleep-ins, and late nights with the camping group. I was a part of this youth group because it was a part of me. And I remember the first time I raised my hands in prayer. I thought the whole world was looking at me, but there I stood before the altar, and I felt God quicken my heart and say, “Mark, you’re going to go to Bible school.”
I wrestled with that because I have dyslexia and was a student receiving additional education services. I usually tell people I didn’t learn how to read; I learned how to duck. My parents didn’t raise me; I made it through. So, my skills were learning how to duck and how to become that chameleon, how to fit in by being the funny kid or sports jock. I did what I did to survive. So, there I was, about 17 years old, with this call in my heart and feeling so insecure, saying, “God, you know, I don’t have the ability. I can’t read well. I can’t write well. God, how can you call me?” But God was faithful, and he called me to Bible school. Now, I wish I could tell you again I got up from that place and said, Amen. But there lay the journey, and God had a quickening in my heart, and I found myself in my early 20s. It was a few years later that I found myself at Bible college.
When did you surrender entirely to Christ? In the book, you discuss the importance of complete surrender and forgiveness, as well as surrendering at the altar.
Amen. And you know that process wasn’t a one-time process. That was a process that took many times of coming to the altar and allowing God to begin to crack that shell, if you will, to start speaking into my life, to begin to soften that heart of stone. And I remember that I had some people who loved me the most. And you know, sometimes people who love us and want to help don’t always give the best advice. It’s not because they’re evil or mean. It’s because they want to say something. And I remember somebody said, “Mark, if you have the faith of a mustard seed, you can move a mountain.” And I thought to myself, at 16 or 17 years old, what does that mean? So there I was in my prayer closet, and I said to the Lord, Lord, what does it mean to move a mountain? What does it mean to have faith the size of a mustard seed? Now, today, I know it’s measured in size. But at that time, God spoke to my heart, and He said, “Mark, will you move a pebble? Can you move pebbles?” And I said, “Lord, I can move pebbles all day long. I’ll be the best pebble-moving Christian you’ve ever had, God.” I’ll move pebbles to and fro, and slowly, the pebble becomes a stone, the stone becomes a rock, the rock becomes a hill, the hill becomes a boulder, and the boulder becomes a mound, growing bigger precept by precept, inch by inch. So again, it wasn’t the first time that I ran to the altar. There were many times that I kept going to the altar and laying myself on it, saying, God, help me because I was angry—I wanted my pound of flesh—I didn’t walk on water or float in clouds. I wanted my abuser to suffer. When I thought of hell, I wanted my abuser to go there. Again, I wasn’t this perfect saint with little wings. I had feelings. I had emotion. I had things taken from me. I was angry. I had a question—why? How? If? What? All those things were rising up, but at the same time, God would bring me on this journey of forgiveness. And in that journey of forgiveness, I often say I was like David. Even though I had to walk through the valley of shadow or death. Even though I had to walk out of this miracle, it still makes it a true miracle, just as much as one that happens suddenly, as much as one that unfolds in the process. God helped me learn to forgive those who trespassed against me. God had to change me so that I could look at things differently. I didn’t start this journey saying, “Hey, I want to forgive the man who abused me.” I’m not that righteous or good. I started this journey by saying, “God, I want to know you. I wish to seek ye first and by knowing God, by seeking.
God would bring me to forgiveness. I didn’t have the strength, the power, the knowledge, or probably even the heart at that time to forgive. I was angry. Someone stole something from me. There was an abuse given to me. I felt righteous in my anger. So God did. I didn’t say, “Okay, God, I’m such a good guy. Help me forgive those who abused me and raped me and stabbed me and beat me.” That’s not what I tried to do. This journey started with this kid going, “God, I want to know you. I want to know who you are. I want to know your Word. I want to know your Spirit. I want to be able to understand and grow.” And in that place, God would bring me. But again, it was seek ye first the kingdom of God. And that’s where it started. And even though I still wrestled with the flesh, and even though I still wrestled with the pain and the hurt, I was growing in God. As I grew closer to God, the things of this world began to seem strangely dim because God started to change my perspective. I saw Him first before I saw the hurt and the pain. God became louder. God became greater. His words became louder than hate. His love became sweeter than sorrow. However, it began by seeking God first.
How do we know when we have truly forgiven and released the unforgiveness to Christ?
Sure. And you know that’s a part of the journey and peeling the onion back one layer at a time. So, for me, it was just a straightforward step by going, “God, I’m giving it to you.” There are three things I want to share with you that I’ve learned about forgiveness. I always believed that forgiveness meant forgiving and forgetting, letting it go, and not making a mountain out of a molehill—let it go. The first thing I realized was that forgiveness is not the same as approval, right? Just because you say you forgive somebody doesn’t mean you’re approving of what they’ve done. You’re not accepting it; you’re not supporting it. You could still say, “What you’ve done was wrong, evil, and sinful against the law, and what happened is wrong.” I disapprove of it. I don’t accept it. I don’t want it. But yet, I can still forgive you for it. That’s the first thing I realized.
The second thing I learned is that forgiveness isn’t a one-time event. God’s mercies are new every morning. And I realized that for me, forgiveness is that way. And the Lord’s Prayer says what? Help us forgive those who trespass against us. Before that, He says, Lord, give us this day our daily bread and help us forgive those who trespass against us. So, I believe that daily is for both things: the daily bread and daily forgiveness. And also the last thing I learned is a harder one. I learned I can have my boundaries. You know, those who have wounded me, I realized I could have boundaries to say, You know what, I don’t have to have kumbaya moments. I could love them. I could give them to Christ. I could put them under the blood. I could say, Lord, they’re in your hands. I don’t have to put my head back in the lion’s mouth. You know, I can have healthy boundaries.
You shared in your book that unforgiveness not only affects us but also affects those around us because we often displace our anger and feelings onto them. Can you explain that?
Sure. Let me unpack that with you for a few minutes. First of all, I’ll tell you one thing God had to do in my life was, again, as I said earlier, he had to change my perspective. And the way God did that is I’ll go back to when we were teenagers. When we were teenagers, we didn’t have a million channels to choose from. We didn’t have the phones in our hands. You know, I’m a Gen-Xer. So, you know, I drank water from a hose, and I came in when the streetlights were off. Mom didn’t know how to call you, but she always knew how to reach you. I remember being in high school in the early 80s; we only had PBS. And in our area, it was called Channel 2. And at Channel 2, our PBS station, Bob Ross, the painter. Everybody knows Bob Ross, and in half an hour, in my untrained eyes, he would paint a masterpiece. I’d be eating my bowl of cereal, coming home from school, and seeing the blank canvas become a masterpiece. At the end of almost every painting that Bob Ross did, he’d put a tree in front of the subject. So if he painted a lake or a cabin or a mountain or whatever he was painting, at almost the last two minutes of every show, he’d put a tree in front of the subject. And what he was doing, I found out years later by watching it, was changing our perspective. He was bringing the subject to life and giving it depth. He was saying the cabin is not as close as it looks now because there’s something in front of it. So it makes it look further away. And I thought about this all the time, like this old song that got caught in your head. I thought, Lord, why am I thinking about this Bob Ross painting? And one day, the Lord said to me, “Mark, if you put my cross in front of your hurts, if you put my cross of Calvary, my love, it’s going to put some depth. Sometimes, when we have pain and go through unforgiveness and sorrow, it’s so close that it pours out. It pours out to people, you know; it pours out to the people that we love. We think we have it hidden, but we usually have it buried under just that soft veneer, and as soon as it’s touched or we believe it’s going to get touched, we lash out, and usually, we lash out at the people who love us, but God is saying to put Him in front of that pain. Put me in front of that hurt. Put me in front of that sorrow. I’m so thankful that God has helped me change my perspective. I see Christ first. Oh, I don’t deny what I went through. I don’t deny that it’s a part of my story, a part of my narrative. It’s a part of my testimony, but it doesn’t define who I am. The worst part of my life does not have to define my life. God loves you, and he wants to set you free. He wants to give you freedom.
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