If it were possible for a Jewish woman from 30AD and a modern-day Christian woman from 2025 to connect (via letters) about how Jesus changed their lives, what would they say to each other?

The two letters (between Sally and Barb) are published in a two-part reflection written in modern-day English vernacular.

Pentecost, 2025 – Letter from Barb to Sally

Dear Sally

Thank you so very much for your letter. I so needed to hear your words, it blessed me more than I can ever express in words. I am blown away at how much you and I are alike, despite the 2,000-year-timeline-gap between us. The words of the Psalmist, where he states that to God a thousand years is like a day, suddenly make so much more sense!

It has taken me a long time to respond to your message, because I was not sure where to start to explain my world to you. But then it dawned on me that for us to connect, you need to hear my heart and not a history lesson spanning 2,000 years and 4 Industrial Revolutions… I can tell you one thing for certain – if you were to enter the world I live in today, it will be overwhelmingly unrecognisable to you. On the one hand, EVERYTHING has changed, and on the other hand, NOTHING has changed.

The author of Ecclesiastes hit the nail on the head when he stated that NOTHING is new under the sun. Human nature is still as abominably sinful as it has been since the fall of man. Therefore, I am going to devote only a single, concise paragraph to let you in on the deplorable state of depravity in my world:

Modern day societies vehemently deny that women do not share equal rights with men, but I live in a country (proudly subscribing to the notion of equal rights) where rape is a growing epidemic, because impotent politicians intentionally remain in blissful denial about their sterile public campaigns against gender-based violence. Females of all races, ages and socio-economic standings fall victim to predators whose legal rights are, ironically, better protected than those of their victims. I recently read about a male judge, in a court of law, who granted a reduced sentence to a rapist, because he did not commit serious injury to his victim’s genitals. Furthermore, elsewhere on the African continent, a staggering amount of women die annually at the hands of their own female elders in a horrifyingly twisted ritual of female circumcision called female genital mutilation (FGM). The violated survivors are left with devastating states of permanent disfigurement, and they are destined to a life of re-living the mutilation trauma with every sexual encounter, even when it is consensual. Just as it is in your world, being a woman in my world carry the same stigma of being listed on the VILE OFFENCES list of society. The only difference is that no checkbox for it appears on our list, because the listing is blind.

I was born into a cultural community with a highly privileged socio-economic standing where powerful patriarchs pride themselves in their ability to secure providence and protection for their people. At the tender age of 6, when my proud protectors turned into perverse predators, I became the object of patriarch-approved abuse for the insatiable perverse pleasure of a group of adolescent young men. I was shamed and scared into silence. Their ‘boys-will-be-boys-games’ overwhelmed my young mind with such unspeakable trauma which forced it into a state of critical overload. In order to survive, it suppressed the trauma in favour of the creation of a happy-place alternative reality. There came a time when the ‘games’ ended. I survived. My mind forgot the horror, but my body did not. I grew up with two polar opposite personalities inside me. There was the feisty, fierce fighter with bold confidence and a shrewd tenacity for asserting dominance in the decision-making of any operation. There was also the timid nobody who was petrified of shadows and darkness. The fighter was gifted and eloquent and the nobody was retarded and mostly mute.

In the four decades which followed, my inner fighter captained my life-ship while my inner nobody was shackled and tossed into the brig. I had access to the best education and employment opportunities and I embraced all of it as if my life depended upon it. I became a trailblazing, independent and successful individual who was revered and celebrated for my intellectual superiority. I rose above all the men I had ever known and it felt so good. My faith grew cold and I distanced myself from God, because He represented that which I hated. Deep inside me an intense battle was raging, but I was not going to let anyone in on it. My body felt things for which my mind had no explanation.

A very radical near-death experience led me right back to God, I recommitted my life to Jesus and I joined a church where they preach with passionate zeal about a powerful God Whose children are always healthy, wealthy, miracle-working prophets. I aligned my own Theology with that of my church, believing that all challenges can be prayed away with enough faith.

When I was blessed with an amazing husband, and upon our wedding night, my mind suddenly remembered what my body has never forgotten, I begged God to take away the paralyzing night terrors and flashbacks. My faith was not enough. When I finally racked up the courage to ask for help and the male leaders treated me as if I had the plague and fobbed me off to people who essentially traumatized me even more, I repented for my lack of faith and prayed for help to submit to the helpers in order to heal. My faith was not enough. Then, when the recurring urinary infections (UTI’s) dating back to when I was 6, made a painful comeback and required multiple treatments of antibiotics, I was openly shamed for a lack of faith. It shattered me, but in my broken abandonment, I realised that it was not my faith which was flawed, but rather a fickle theology promising uninterrupted blue skies and sunshine.

The broken abandonment moment became the turning point in my journey to healing. I discarded all of the harmful parts of the failed therapy and patched together the few helpful parts for a solution which partially worked. I found belonging in a new church community where I experienced a love that I have never encountered before and where the connections with fellow believers are solid and authentic. So, when my relentless UTI’s became unstoppable and an invasive surgical procedure revealed the cause to be irreparable damage from injuries sustained from rape, I was in a safe environment with loving and dedicated people to go back once more and embark on a journey of true healing.

Oh, how I’ve been wanting to get to this part of my story!

Two devoted, God-fearing men in full time ministry signed up to journey with me. Their faithful commitment to this journey and compassionate love for me, in my unbearable pain, helped me to understand that Jesus loves all of me and that my pain hurts Him too.

But, having to go back and relive the violation all over again, was like being tossed into a steel cage with a gigantic monster. I HAD TO fight him, my life depended upon it and I had to do it by myself. My support team never entered the cage, but they were always there, in my corner with towels, bandages, water and words of wisdom and compassion. Repeatedly I had blood, sweat, tears, spit & snot punched out of me by a powerful monster who was hellbent on humiliating me into silence and defeat. It hurt more than I can ever express. It challenged my sanity and I often thought that it was going to kill me. And then sometimes, during the short breaks, when I was able to see through my swollen eyes, I registered my trauma in the eyes of each member of my support team. This bloodbath did not leave them unaffected, and although I am convinced that they came close to getting in there to destroy the monster, none of them threw a single punch. They understood that my life depended upon this fight and they rooted for me to win. After a gruellingly long time, we reached a stage where I was running on fuel fumes, my distorted vision had turned into total blindness and I was awaiting a death blow, when someone else joined my support team. She came over, handed me a tissue and whispered a message into my ear after which I approached the monster and, with inexplicably restored vigor, delivered the coup de grâce to him. It ended the fight. I won!

While I was engaged in a bloody fistfight of reliving unspeakable trauma, I encountered Jesus just like you described Him. There were so many desperate times when my inner nobody would take over and I would collapse into a snot-sobbing mess, begging Him to come and hold me like He did with you. He never appeared to me in Person, yet I can recall almost all of your memories as if they were also my own experiences. I was able to see His eyes, feel His tender touch and hear His gentle voice. In my pain, I struggled with the rampant misogyny contained in the Old Testament and even in some modern day churches, and my inner fighter could so easily fly off the handle. DID ESTHER, RUTH, LEAH, RACHEL & BATHSHEBA consent? TAMAR AND DIDI (I named the poor woman in Judges 19) DID NOT! I so needed to hear your account of Jesus’ response to your outrage about the diabolical gang rape in Judges 19. Having seen Him through your eyes, allowed me to feel His compassion for her. I also needed to be reminded that His grace is sufficient for me.

The last member of my support team helped me to reconcile with the broken, violated 6-year-old me. I held her, she died in my arms and we buried her. Upon seeing her happy and healed in Jesus’ arms, it not only unmuted my inner nobody, but also renamed it to empath. I learned that the monster I killed, was NOT my trauma or the damage it has done to me, but rather the trauma’s control over me. I can now speak about my trauma, how it affected me and how I found a way to live a full life amidst irreversible damage.

I now know Jesus like I have never known Him before and He delights in who I am, all of me, the fighter AND the empath. When He looks at me, I feel like I’m the only person on the planet and He redeemed me with His life. He did not promise me healing of all of my brokenness or that I will never be triggered or even violated again. He has promised that He will never leave my side, that His grace is always enough for me, that His steadfast love for me will never cease and that His mercies are fresh and new every morning.

I look forward to connecting with you on the perfect side of eternity!

Kind regards

Barb