Julia Loewen

Family: Our three beautiful grandchildren are becoming more fun with each passing day -- watching how each one has their own personality and gifts.

Recitals: I still miss giving recitals, but it was a joy to the last note.

Prison Visits: My main focus now is that I visit prisons once a week. It is my great privilege to be involved in the lives of people deeply loved by God. They are an inspiration to me.

Lessons: I continue to give voice lessons. It is wonderful to watch these young people blossom and flourish.

Julia Loewen's enthusiasm for life and the obvious health of her total being never fails to inspire her listeners. Her inspiration comes from a place deep in her soul, a place once so broken it seemed nothing could mend it.

For years Julia limped through life, her personality and emotions scarred from an abusive childhood. Her father, a physician, used humiliation as a tool to torment his wife and their children. Julia's mother made it clear to Julia that Julia was unfit to love. Any love shown to Julia was deeply resented by her mother.

In her mid-teens, Julia became a member of her church youth group. While her mother was in the final stages of cancer, Julia sought counsel from the leader of that group. This minister, a trusted father figure sexually assaulted her, then used her for sexual gratification for a period of time. This abuse only confirmed Julia's already low opinion of herself. Angry at her real father, grieving over the death of her mother and wounded by the abuse at church, Julia eventually cut ties with her family. During her twenties, as her lifestyle continued to be increasingly problematic, a minister told Julia that she'd never be right with God.

At age thirty-two she met and married John. They moved to a remote area of Eastern Canada. Alone a lot, Julia began reading the Bible. Through audio cassettes, she began to understand that if you are hungry for God, you are a candidate for His transforming love and forgiveness. Cautiously she prayed to God, a relative Stranger, to come close, to forgive her many sins, and to take charge of her life. God did exactly that.

Gradual life-changing transformation followed. As her personality came alive, Julia's interest in music returned. She returned to school and started performing, writing and teaching music. When Julia is invited to speak, she also shares her music. "I want people to know that what Jesus did for me, He'll do for them," she says.

Grief

I could feel her movements becoming weaker within me. O God, please, no. Hot tears of helplessness and grief coursed down my face as I sobbed for this much-wanted child. The difficult pregnancy, my third, was in its 22nd week when a sudden miscarriage was upon me like a thief in the night. Our youngest daughter, Ruth, was dying, her life ebbing away within me, her frantic movements now becoming less and less frequent, and finally stilled altogether.

I felt God slip His strong tender arms around me as I lay in the labor room, numb. "This isn't death, Julie, this is the shadow of death", He whispered as the verses of Psalm 23 washed over me: "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me .." (Psalm 23:4). "The shadow of a gun can't kill. This is the shadow of death", He continued.

Healing came, as it usually does, slowly, painfully, almost imperceptibly at times. But it did come. No longer able to have children, Ruth's was my final pregnancy. She's in God's Presence now. I'm a little bit jealous. Who does she look like? Some day I'll know.

Do I understand? Not really. Do I trust God enough to believe that whatever He allows, He feels it was the wisest course of action? Absolutely. Will I understand some day? Definitely. Praise His Name!

Time

The young man stared at me with frightened eyes. "They can't help me, can they?" I was his nurse, and I was caught off guard by his transparency. "I don't know what the doctors will be able to do, but I do know you will get the best attention medicine has to offer." I was so young, so green... and I wasn't saved. The young man was right -- the tumor was inoperable.

I nursed for 11 years in several large city hospitals, saw many people of all ages, backgrounds, and circumstances, slip into eternity. What really matters to them surfaces at such times. Not once did I hear "I wish I'd spent more time in the office, making more money, cleaning my house, getting a better education." What I heard began to have a familiar ring. "I wish I'd spent more time with my family, playing with my children when they were growing up. Why didn't I tell my wife "I love you" more often? I should have seen the doctor earlier" -- and most poignant "I wish I'd gotten to know the God I'm now going to meet."

When will we learn what matters? Will we wait until we're facing eternity before we ever admit we've cluttered our lives with what doesn't matter in Eternity? We plan for the time we think we have. Let's choose wisely today.

Forgiveness

Spiteful, hate-filled words spewed from him, drenching his wife with his fury: my mother, the woman he had vowed before God to love and cherish until death do them part. Days before, Mom learned the cancer was terminal. Unknown to Dad, I watched as Mom wept quietly; seething hatred boiled over as I sought a knife with which to kill him. I was 13 years old. This was life living with my father, a doctor, who repeatedly made clear by his behavior that he actively wished us ill.

Now, 20 years later, I was saved, and God wanted me to forgive.

"O God, I hate him, I hate him."

"I love him, Julia, I love him."

Forgive... forgive. If I don't forgive, God won't forgive me (Matt. 6:14,15). O God help me. Remind me of the great wickedness of which I have been forgiven - no probation, no strings attached.

I didn't want to.

Dad didn't deserve it. Neither did I.

God required it. Whether or not Dad wanted it, or valued it, I was to forgive. No option.

Feelings followed. This was a very talented man with much to offer. Who knows the wonderful plans God had anticipated for Dad's life. Who knows the tears God wept for a wasted life that left a legacy of torment, insecurity and sorrow for his children?

I chose to forgive.

The prisoner I set free that day was... me!

Praise His Name!

Julia can be reached via email: julialoewen@gmail.com

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