The Matchbook Diaries
Beginning when I was 3 years old I was raped and tortured nightly by my mother. I lived alone with my mother for ten years until she sent me away. The following ten years I lived in a series of rich households dominated by emotional violence and alcohol addiction. I personally witnessed suicide and insanity. The events of my life drove me into a lifelong study of redemption that began when I was 13. My diaries will give you one perspective on the use of faith as a way to harvest power, dignity, and peace. My greatest strength has always been my tremendous passion; my passion is also my weakness. I can incite an audience but I can also have a hell of a temper tantrum. If you choose to read these diaries, know that I disguise nothing. There are horrors here. Those horrors were emphatic catalysts for me. I’ve never been shy about saying what I think. I’m a Jewish woman to the bone. My drive was to find real redemption, to find a life that was in no way deformed or enslaved by what was done to me. God has never once disappointed me. I bludgeon God with all of my intellectual and even physical might, and yet I have never left any encounter empty handed. God is certainly not petty, and so, whilst I am a Jewish Christian, I claim no monopoly on words for God. It’s monumentally absurd to think that if you call God up on the phone, God won’t answer unless you use the right name or pronoun. Jesus is the lens I use, but I will not use that name in these diaries as it is a stumbling block for millions. The name I use for God is God, without gender, without attachment to any faith. I’m an artist and I’m an evangelist. These are my twin callings. The faith I call you to is a liberating, empowering faith. Redemption does not look a certain way externally. Redemption is not evidenced by service or lifestyle. Redemption is power, the power of the truth, the power of love. You’ll know instantly, upon opening this diary, if it is of any use to you. May God bless your life; may you know and believe that you are a child of God, beloved beyond price, and of infinite value.
When I was a terrorized child I told myself, “No one knows. No one knows.” At the time this expression partly reassured me that I was not exposed, that my secret life of shame was not public. I was constantly trying to comfort myself by acknowledging this fact.
There was a CONTINUE >
We live overseas and have for decades. My son, who is 13, has never lived in the United States. Expats are fond of saying that all of us are running from something.
We’d been on vacation for three weeks. My husband checks his email, looks up, and asks me to step CONTINUE >