This Is My Exodus

By Monica Phillips

This Is My Exodus is dedicated to men and women across the globe who have suffered abuse of ANY kind, including church hurt, spiritual hurt, molestation, and sexual abuse within the walls of the church. It's also dedicated to those of you who have suffered abuse in other forms such as manipulation, deception, and spiritual identity crisis. Monica Phillips was molested and sexually violated within the Church of God in Christ so she truly understands suffering and abuse and has been where you may be now.
This book is for you if you have been bound in  Egypt in your thoughts and your emotions because of the abuse that you suffered and you're finding it difficult to love yourself, have self-worth, and forgive because of the way that your abusers made you feel: I want you to know that it is NOT your fault. You've been feeling unloved, rejected, and abandoned, and have fallen prey to man's opinions of who you are and who you "should be" in the Kingdom, let me encourage you not to stay angry, bitter, or unforgiving. Forgiveness, and letting go of your abusive experiences in your spirit, soul, and body will cause you to leave it all behind. It leads you to your Exodus encounter, out of "Egypt". This means you're free from the emotions, mental torment, bondage, and anger that you've been carrying.  I pray that you will find peace within yourself by releasing the pain, guilt, and shame of your past that was forced upon you by the men and women who allowed the enemy to alter their thinking into perversion. None of this is your fault. It is my hope that you're able to heal and be made whole after reading THIS IS MY EXODUS & Maintenance For Your Soul Instructional Manual & Workbook (Search second publication) which includes seven steps to get you on the other side of the pain of your abuse and 5 Steps of Grace to get you on the other side of being the victim of pedophilia and sexual abuse of children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dezarae Delacruz
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215071427

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By: Monica Phillips

All rights reserved .

Copyright © 2023 Monica Phillips This Is My Exodus

Published by: Author Overnight Publication & Designs (www.authorovernight.info)

No part of this report may be modified or altered in any form whatsoever, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written, dated, and signed permission from the author. 

DISCLAIMER AND/OR LEGAL NOTICES: The information presented herein represents the view of the author as of the date of publication. Because of the rate with which conditions change, the author reserves the right to alter and update her opinion based on the new conditions.

All scripture quotations are taken from Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Reader’s Version®, NIrV® Copyright © 1995, 1996, 1998, 2014 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. www.zondervan.com

Scripture quotations from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NLT are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation. © 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Ministries, Carol Stream Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

This book does not replace medical advice from your physician. Nor is it written by a medical provider.

ISBN: 9798389885707

DEDICATION

This Is My Exodus is dedicated to men and women across the globe who have suffered abuse of ANY kind, including church hurt, spiritual hurt, molestation and sexual abuse within the walls of the church. It’s also dedicated to those of you who have suffered abuse in other forms such as manipulation, deception and  spiritual identity crisis. I was molested and sexually violated within the Church of God in Christ so I want you to know that I’ve been where you may be now. To you that have been bound in  Egypt in your thoughts and your emotions because of the abuse that you suffered and you’re finding it difficult to love yourself, have self-worth and to forgive because of the way that your abusers made you feel: I want you to know that it is NOT your fault.

You’ve been feeling unloved, rejected and abandoned, have fallen prey to man’s opinions of who you are and who you should be in the Kingdom, let me encourage you not to stay angry, bitter or unforgiving. Forgiveness, and letting go of your abusive experiences in your spirit, soul, and body will cause you to leave it all behind. It leads you to your Exodus encounter, out of Egypt. This means you’re free from the emotions, mental torment, bondage and anger that you’ve been carrying.  It is my prayer that you will be able to find peace within yourself by releasing the pain, guilt, and the shame of your past that was forced upon you by the men and women who allowed the enemy to alter their thinking into perversion.

None of this is your fault. It is my hope that you’re able to heal and be made whole after reading THIS IS MY EXODUS & Maintenance For Your Soul Instructional Manual & Workbook which includes seven steps to get you on the other side of the pain of your abuse and 5 Steps of Grace to get you on the other side of being the victim of pedophilia and sexual abuse of children.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

Hello, my name is Monica Phillips, and I am proud yet humbled to say that I am a survivor of abuse. Unfortunately, abuse comes in multiple forms, and I survived several occurrences by the grace of God. I was compelled to write my story titling it, This Is My Exodus after finally breaking my silence on what I encountered as a child and preteen growing up in the Church of God in Christ organization aka C.O.G.I.C and the trickle-down effect of other forms of abuse that I experienced due to my childhood trauma.  This pain caused me mental and emotional torment daily. I wrestled with shame, embarrassment and guilt, thinking that it was my fault and I thought that way for 40 years!

One day, God shook me out of believing the lie that the devil planted in my soul, and when He did, I was able to take off the mask that I had been wearing for so many years. The worst part is that I didn’t even realize that it was a mask because it became a part of the skin that I was in over all of that time. Realizing that the abuse was not my fault  gave me a sense of release to take the action that started my journey out of bondage and into wholeness. The shame made me bury my suffering for 40 years and vow to take my trauma to my grave because it was too painful to talk about, but God had another plan. On May 6, 2020, that plan was brought to light. I started sharing my story, not to bring any attention to the abusers, or to bash C.O.G.I.C but to bring healing to those that have also been abused- the survivors. I wanted to let them know that they are not alone. And if that’s you, then please allow me to share my story so that you too may be free. THIS IS MY EXODUS!

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

My name is Monica, and I am a survivor of abuse. I was born to Chester Phillips and Annabelle Craig- Phillips on February 27, 1966. I am the youngest of 16 children and 10 of us are living. I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio born at General Hospital but raised in Youngstown.

I remember a road trip we took from Cincinnati to Youngstown when I was about 3. We used to travel back and forth in our brown station wagon with the woodgrain panel on it. One day, we just remained in Youngstown (the Yo is what we call it) and made it our home. We were Catholics.

My parents moved the ten of us into our new residence on Rose Street which is on the eastside of Youngstown. Eventually, we moved to Pearl Street, and I wondered why we were there, but I knew not to ask any questions. My siblings and I were taught that children were to be seen only and not heard, so we went with the flow and that’s where life started for me as a kid. I wasn’t sure of how to process what I was seeing in our home- my dad beat my mom on a regular basis.

All I knew was that she remained strong through it, bloody and all. We feared our dad because of the way that he treated us, but we also loved him because he was our dad. He was a great provider and a protector which made life confusing for me as a child.

I remember one night I was awakened by my dad’s voice. He was calling me to come downstairs. After getting myself together, I looked around the room for the rest of my sisters and I heard a few of them crying. I walked into the room where everyone was standing and saw that my dad had lined up my sisters against the wall, asking them, who was doing all of that sucking upstairs? You see, one of my sisters had a stuffy nose from a cold and she was sniffing and blowing, trying to breathe. You know how it is. I’m not sure how my dad associated that sound with a sucking noise, but he did. I was the smallest in the bunch, so my dad had to squat down to my level in order to interrogate me like he did with my sisters.  He had this very kind look in his eyes and said that he loved me. That made me calm down some. Then he asked me that very same question that he had been asking the other girls, were you the one doing all of that sucking upstairs? When I said no, I found out why my other sisters were crying. I got an open hand slap in the face! I  grabbed my face to stop the sting of the hit and we  all cried at the same time. 

My mom was there, and she was crying with us. Every time that he would make his way back to me, he would be so nice and say that he loved me while asking the question again about whether I was the one who was doing the sucking. And every time, I would answer honestly and get slapped again. You would think that we would all start lying just so we wouldn’t get beat anymore but we were taught not to lie, so each of us kept telling the truth. Yes, that was a long night, and we were doomed whether we told the truth or not.

These beatings continued throughout my childhood. My dad always told us that he loved us first and then the beatings would start. It was a terrible pattern. The boys never got in trouble at all; it was always the girls, so it was clear that he favored them over us! One time, my dad even threatened to put the girls in a burlap sack, hang us on a tree, and smoke us as a punishment. I'm so glad that he didn’t go through with that idea.

We didn’t know much about our dad because, again, kids stayed in a kid’s place. Since I was the youngest of all the siblings, I had to get information about my family years later from my brother Chester, my sister Tina and my nephew Richard (thanks y'all!).

I found out that my dad got with my mom when she was very young and eventually married her.  They were from the South. Growing up, it seemed like he was as much of a father figure to her as he was to us because she was always being beaten with the rest of us girls.

I remember one night when my mom was closing at Ms. Robinson’s bar and our dad came home drunk. 

He shouted, who let these animals in my house?

Everyone started searching for the animals that he was seeing but as it turns out, we were searching for ourselves- me, my sister, and 2 of my brothers. He told my oldest brother to get those animals out of the house, so we had to sit out on the porch and wait until our mother came home from work. That was another bad night that I will always remember. 

As a child, I could not explain why things were so chaotic with my mom and dad. We watched her being beaten every other day and still try to be a mother to all of her children.

As an adult, I finally understood that my dad was an abusive alcoholic, we were abused children, and my mother was in a very abusive marriage. That helped me understand why we had some good times with my dad and a lot of bad times with him.

When we were children, we didn’t know what the word abuse meant because we’d never even heard of it before, but it was clear we were abused. I remember this one time that was particularly terrible.  I don’t quite recall the reason my dad was so upset, but it started out like every time before:  He told me that he loved me and right after that, I was viciously beaten. That one landed me in the hospital with hallucinations. I just knew that I saw waves of blood coming towards me.

I really hated the smacks across the face at full throttle; those were the worst. But no matter what he did, my dad said that he loved me, and I was too young to think otherwise.

In my mind, the beatings were happening out of love and I actually started expecting them because of that. On those short-lived good days, he would impress my older siblings and their friends with the smoothness of his tap dancing. My dad could tap dance! He loved performing whenever he had the chance and people always requested for him to put on a show. 

In 1971 we lost my youngest brother David, who we affectionately called Booboo, at the young age of six. I was five when he died, but I remember that day just like it was yesterday.

My sister Peaches and I wanted to go to Ben’s Supermarket across the street from our house. It was situated diagonally from us on Wilson Avenue and my sister asked David if he wanted to come along with us. He said yes, so we went to get permission from mom for him to come too since she had already said we could go.

When we asked, she would say yes at first but would quickly change her answer to no and she did this several times. Each time she would say no, David would respond like a typical six-year-old when they can’t have their way and have a temper tantrum. 

She finally said yes but told us to make sure we held his hands. I was five and he was six, so I didn’t understand why my mom put more emphasis on his safety instead of mine, but I soon found out.

We did exactly what mom instructed and held each other’s hands as we crossed the street and even still once, we got into the store. We walked through the aisles hand in hand, but David slipped away from us. It was so strange that we never felt his hand leave ours.

The first time we noticed that he was gone, we went through the store looking for him and couldn’t find him. I went to the entrance and saw him standing outside on the curb! Peaches called him back in, telling him not to do that again, and to remember what mom said.

We went back to holding hands and shopping. After a little while, it was time for us to get what we wanted so I grabbed some green apple buds, daddy gum, and some vanilla Now n Laters. My sister got what she wanted and when she looked down to ask David what he chose, we noticed that he was gone again! And once again, we didn’t feel him slip away. Even more strange was that it was only me and Peaches standing there holding hands but David was in the middle and we didn’t know he left. How could that be?

We searched the store once again and didn’t find him anywhere. Peaches asked Sally, the store manager, to help and they continued to look through the aisles. I remembered him going outside the first time, so I headed towards the entrance again.

I opened the door and Peaches was right behind me with Sally, as we looked around, we saw our brother’s lifeless body was lying in the street that separated our house from the store. I believe Peaches and I went into shock. David still had on his green corduroy jacket, his buster brown shoes, a black shirt, and pants. My guess was that he tried to cross the street to go home and those that are familiar with the Eastside of Youngstown knows that Wilson Avenue was a very busy street back in the day.

We were never to cross the street alone and all of us knew that, but for some reason David was trying to go alone anyways. It was as if he was being drawn there and I believe he was supernaturally and that’s why he was able to slip away from us when we were holding his hands without being noticed. 

There was definitely a supernatural meaning- his time had expired. I still think about those two moments when his hands were in our hands tightly, but he still managed to get away without us knowing. I blamed myself and carried the guilt for a long time after that. 

As an adult, I received the revelation that it was his appointed time to die. (Hebrews 9:27-28) When people die traumatically like David, those who were there usually say things like, only if this wouldn’t have happened and only if I hadn’t left them alone, they wouldn’t have died.

I said that for years. I kept replaying what happened to David over and over, wondering where we went wrong. That thinking process can quickly bring in the spirit of guilt and blame and will torment you forever.

Instead, I had to learn how to make peace in my spirit about my brother’s tragedy. I had to accept that it wasn’t our fault, and we didn’t have anything to do with his death.

Unfortunately, his time just expired on this side and there was nothing we could do about it because only God holds the power of life and death in His hands. That also explains why you may hear of a person dying from one shot in the leg while someone else is shot twelve times and somehow lives. Seems impossible but that goes to show you that life and death are in God’s hands. If we had any ounce of control, most people wouldn’t choose to die or let our loved ones die because of the love that we have for them.

Losing someone we care for is very painful so we wouldn’t let that go down like that but because we can’t call it, we have to accept it.

A lot of us think that alarm clocks wake us up in the morning, but they don’t; it’s God!

How do I know that? Because if you sit an alarm clock beside a person whose time has expired and try to wake them up, you’ll end up shutting the clock off. So, please don’t ever think or feel guilty about someone that you lost because you had no control and it’s not your fault. Ok?

My brother's death is not my fault. Continue your rest, David. 

CHAPTER TWO

And Then There Were 9

LOSING MY BROTHER WAS my first experience with death and I didn’t understand it. I just remember feeling empty, lost, and very sad. Once Peaches and I got back across the street to the house, we didn’t know what to do or say. My sister Tina shared with me that she watched us walk to and from the store but noticed that we didn’t have David with us when we walked back home. She said we were looking very strange, as if we were in shock.

I remember just going into the house and sitting in a chair. Someone busted through the door, telling my family that David was hit by a car, and all I could do was cry. There were heart wrenching screams coming from my mom, sisters, brothers and friends of our family. I was five years old, and I immediately started blaming myself because I was begging for him to go to the store with us just like he was. I blamed myself for a very long time. The grieving process was long for my mom. Not only did she have to deal with getting beat unmercifully by my dad every day after my brother’s death, but she also mourned the loss of her youngest son. I’m not sure if my dad was blaming my mom for his death or if they were just routine attacks. One will never know but she continued to take care of us. My mom was so strong!

When things began to settle down, we asked my mom why she was changing her answer so many times when we asked for Booboo to go to the store with us. She told us that he was acting very strange that day and she had a bad feeling that something was going to happen to him, and it certainly did.

It pained us to see our mom go through the grieving stages- laughing and then crying. But it was necessary for her to get through it and that happened for us all by the grace of God. 

At times I couldn’t help thinking that the family blamed me for my brother’s death. It was a lot of pressure on me at such a young age because of the way that I was being treated and getting beat up by one of my older sisters. 

I was eight years old, and she was probably about 19. She just started beating me and I remember my sister Peaches pushing her down and demanding that she leave me alone. But once she got up, she charged at me again! Eventually, she just walked away when one of my other older siblings returned home.