Never Give Up: Hostage – the Story We Tell OurselvesSample

**Notice: This content includes sensitive themes that some readers may find difficult: Mentions of physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. Please take care as you read.

Day 3: When Evil Gets Close

David and Goliath ,

The entire Israelite army was paralyzed by fear in the face of Goliath. For forty days, he shouted threats, and no one dared to stand up to him. But David, a young shepherd, stepped forward with confidence—not in himself, but in God. He didn’t let Goliath’s size or threats define the outcome. He faced evil head-on, not because he was unafraid, but because he believed the God who had delivered him before would do it again.

Evil in the Driveway

We like to think evil is something far off—something we can see coming and avoid. But sometimes, it’s closer than we think.

I was only ten years old, in the fifth grade, when I came face-to-face with it. My friend Jack and his family had moved to the U.S. from Germany, and I spent a lot of time at his house. We took karate together, played for hours, and bonded over being different. Jack had three sisters and a little brother, Ely. But what made their home unsettling was a man named Stan.

Stan was Jack’s mother’s ex-husband and the biological father of Ely. For reasons that still make no sense, Stan lived in a trailer van parked in their driveway.

He was a big man—tall, heavyset, with a strange resemblance to Hitler. But worse than his appearance was the darkness that followed him. Stan was a predator. A pedophile. He made inappropriate comments to me, asked to take pictures of me, and though I always refused, I was terrified. Something in my gut told me I wasn’t safe.

One day, after he made a cruel comment to Jack and me, I did something impulsive. I turned around and kicked him. Hard. I guess I wanted to feel brave. But it backfired.

Stan flew into a rage. He chased me through the house, cornered me, and slammed a folding aluminum chair into my face. Blood gushed from a gash just below my eye. I was stunned—physically and emotionally.

But here’s the strange part: I didn’t cry. I had learned by then that crying didn’t change things. Hiding pain was my default setting. So I stayed at Jack’s house. I didn’t go home. I didn’t tell my mom. I just kept playing like nothing had happened.

The next day, my eye was swollen shut, my face bruised and bloodied. When my mom finally saw me, she was livid. She called Jack’s mother. She demanded answers. And eventually, we went to court.

But justice didn’t come easily.

Stan represented himself. That meant I had to testify while he cross-examined me from just a few feet away. The very man who assaulted me was allowed to ask me questions, twist my words, and try to make me doubt my own story. I was terrified. Confused. Small.

In the end, he wasn’t convicted.

But years later, I found out that Stan was arrested for raping a young child and sentenced to life in prison. Evil had continued to grow unchecked until someone finally stopped it. But for years, I carried the fear that maybe he would come back for me. That maybe my voice didn’t matter.

Devotional Reflection

What do you do when evil gets close? When it walks through your front door or camps in your driveway? When it steals your innocence, your security, your voice?

For many of us, trauma leaves more than scars—it leaves a story. A story that says, “You’re unsafe.” “You don’t matter.” “Your voice is powerless.”

But here’s the truth: what happened to you is not the final word. God has the final word.

David didn’t defeat Goliath because he was the biggest or strongest. He won because he refused to believe that fear and evil had the final say. He remembered the God who had delivered him from the lion and the bear. And that same God stood with him against the giant.

You might feel like the courtroom didn’t believe you. The system failed you. The abuser got away. But you are not invisible. And you are not alone. God sees every injustice. He hears every unspoken cry. He keeps every tear.

You are not powerless. When you invite God into your pain, healing begins. Your story can become one of courage—not because you were never afraid, but because you chose not to give up.

Action Step

Write down one fear that still lingers from a painful experience. Then, write a prayer asking God to begin healing that wound. Speak out loud: “What happened to me does not define me. God, You are my defender, my healer, and my redeemer.”

Reflection Questions

1. Have you ever been afraid to speak up about something that hurt you?
2. How has fear shaped the story you tell yourself today?
3. What would it look like to trust God with your justice and healing?