My Secret Keeper

I called out to You, and You sent an angel to rescue me from death

Serita Jakes ministers to women at The Potter's House in Dallas, Texas, where her husband, T.D. Jakes, is pastor. When she was a teenager, Serita Jakes' brother was murdered. Her grief led her into an abusive relationship with a teenage boy. Eventually, she worked through her fears by writing letters to God, whom she called her Secret Keeper. Following is an excerpt from "The Princess Within" by Serita Ann Jakes, reprinted with permission from Bethany House Publishers.

I had wanted to hide as a teenager because of the shame I felt when a violent boyfriend rejected me. His actions toward me made me feel unlovely, unwanted, and jilted. I hid this sense of rejection for many years, not realizing how much it affected me until I took time to be honest before God and admit my secret pain to Him. I was free from the secret after writing a letter to my Lord. Once I told Him how I felt and saw how much He loved me, the event lost its power to hurt me. It even seems odd now that I ever felt it was a secret worth keeping. I wrote,

Dear Secret Keeper,

I think that being young and naïve often creates a canvas for You to show us how You paint Your master plan for our lives. All I can say is that I believed him. He had been so nice. He picked me up from school every day. Even the gifts he brought to me were such a surprise. What went wrong? At first I didn't notice his weaknesses, because he seemed to be such a strong man.


It was right after my brother had died. No, let me correct that statement. It was right after my brother was murdered. My whole world seemed to come to a screeching halt. How could his life be ended so abruptly, just when he was trying to get it all together? He had given his life to You. For the first time in his life, my brother seemed to have found true happiness - the kind of happiness that I knew (even then) only came from having You as the center of his life.

One evening he went out with his daughters to one of the local hangouts. The girls were raising money for a trip to an amusement park, and their daddy was taking them where all of his friends would be. Everybody liked my brother, I thought. But something went wrong. There was an argument. Then there were gunshots, and my brother tumbled to the bottom of the stairs.

His knees were drawn to his chest in the fetal position, but this was not his entrance into life. It was his tragic exit. When they took our mother to him, she went into shock. Her firstborn was gone, and she was left alone.

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