You Should Have Been A Woman
By Phil Scovell
I have three very early childhood memories. The first one I
couldn't have been more than three months old, according to my mother,
and maybe even younger. My mother was giving me a bath in the kitchen
sink. I remember looking down over the side of the sink and seeing
the floor. It was tile and every other square was an alternating
sharp blue and a bright yellow. I honestly remember thinking, "Boy,
is that ugly."
When I was a teenager, I mentioned this memory to my mother and
she said, "That's impossible." When I asked why, she said, "Because,
we only had that flooring down when you were a baby. Before you were
much older, your dad remodel the kitchen and put in a totally
different floor. We don't even have any pictures of that old kitchen
so you couldn't have even seen a picture of it." I told her that I
well remembered sitting in the sink and seeing that blue and yellow
checkered floor pattern and commenting to myself how indeed ugly it
Another time, and this was likely even earlier in my life, I
remember laying on my back in a crib in the basement of a church with
a baby bottle in my mouth. It was early evening, about twilight it
seemed due to the light filtering down through the basement windows,
and I remember sensing that I was completely alone but I wasn't
afraid. In fact, I felt warm and secure. My father, by the way, used
to preach in Iowa country churches. Often the family would go with
him and then we would drive home after the evening service was over.
This was one of those times, apparently, and the memory is solidly
fixed in my mine.
The third memory I have was just at the time I was learning to
walk. I remember walking through our living room and looking for my
mother. I remember going slow because I tottered as I walked. We
only had one bedroom downstairs and that was my parent's bedroom. I
remember seeing the door to the bedroom partially closed. I pushed on
it as I walked into the room. There was my mom. I was frozen into
immobility because of what I saw. I had never seen a totally naked
woman before. Mom was changing close. I was shocked. I felt as if I
should not bee in this room and seeing my mother naked. The memory
goes suddenly dead at this point. It is this third memory I want to
explain in more detail because of how it affected my life for nearly
As my 50th birthday approached, I began looking at my life.
Besides, I felt that I was now getting old and I had very little time
left. My kids were grown and married and had their own children. I
tried to encourage myself by mentally listing all I had done in my
life, since I would not be living much longer due to my advanced age,
and although I could list some things that were good, I couldn't feel
the goodness and joy associated with those accomplishments. I knew
it was depression creeping up on me because I had gone through three
severe years of depression in the early nineties, but regardless of
what I did, the darkness crept ominously closer with each passing day.
My 50th birthday had been the last day of February that year and
it was now June of that same year. Suddenly, and without warning,
anxiety crashed down upon me like the side of a mountain giving way
and burying me alive. I heard voices. I stopped eating. I stopped
sleeping. I tried to stop thinking but that was one thing I found
impossible to shut down. Five days passed without sleep, with little
food and little water, and without the voices going away. I told my
wife during those days, I felt like I was whirling around at the top
of a large funnel and I was dropping slowly and helplessly down the
sides toward the bottom. Furthermore, there was nothing to grab in
order to stop what was happening. Eventually, I knew, I would drop
out the bottom and then I would be dead.
About six weeks later, the Lord led me to a man who knew how to
pray. I sat in his office for several weeks, and months, in prayer
sessions that lasted from 90 minutes to sometimes three hours. The
Lord came time and time again and healed parts of my mind that needed
renewing and one of those places was the third childhood memory I have
already described. To understand the meaning of that memory, we need
to review something which happened in the year 1979 when I was 27
I became an assistant pastor in western Colorado in mid 1978 and
Sandy and I had been married for 6 years and had a little boy,
Trenton, who was about 2 years of age at that time. Before this time,
I had been traveling as a guest speaker in churches and had been
traveling a great deal. It was the pastor of this church who had
heard me preach at a youth camp that had asked me to move from Denver
to western Colorado to serve as his assistant pastor.
We spent the better part of two years living in a brand new home,
in a town of only 800 people, and serving in a church of about 60
members. We loved it and we loved the people. It was probably the
best time in my life. I had never been as happy as I was in that
little town and serving in that church under a pastor whom I greatly
admired and loved as a man of God.
During this time, and largely due to a good pastor's ministerial
tutelage, I became interested in pastoring a church of my own. I was
already an assistant pastor, the youth pastor, I did nursing home
ministry each week, led the singing, and assisted the pastor in every
area of ministry. I learned more, from this one man theologically,
and as far as ministry work was concerned, than I did from anyone.
Plus, I felt the pastor had become one of my best friends. He was
most certainly my mentor and more than anything else, he loved people.
One day, the pastor called me into his office and told me that he
felt he was being called to resign from the church and move to another
mountain town to begin a new church. We had recently had some
disagreements, which normally occurs between friends, and it was his
opinion that it would be better if he did not openly recommend me to
take his place. However, he said, he was positive they would ask me
to take his place anyhow. His words didn't feel exactly right somehow
but the possibility was definitely in my favor. I knew I would indeed
be the next pastor of this church and my greatest wish and dream would
be fulfilled. I remember leaving his office that evening and going to
the back of the church facilities with my youth group and being so
happy, I could hardly talk. I even sat down and, for the first time,
played the piano for the first time for the teenagers and taught them
some songs we later would sing before the church. I wasn't all that
good at playing the piano but the kids loved it and it became a
regular part of our Sunday night youth meetings. I was spiritually
and emotionally euphoric. In fact, I could not then, nor now,
describe how wonderful I felt.
As the weeks past, a 3-man pulpit committee was formed. They
would be the men who would find what we called candidates and they
would be interviewed. I wasn't worried because I knew I would be
first and I knew 99 percent of the church would vote me in as the next
pastor. Yet, as each week past, nothing happened and no announcements
were made. People began asking me when I would become their next
pastor. I had to reply that I didn't know and they would have to ask
the 3 men who made up the pulpit committee.
The pastor starting turning complete Sundays over to me as he
traveled to other small mountain towns trying to get a feel for where
he should begin a new church. I was in hog Heaven. I had never been
this happy, or felt this good, in my life. At just 27 years of age, I
was going to get my first opportunity to pastor a church. This was a
perfect place to raise children, we had a Christian school, solid
church members whom I loved dearly, and the new home we lived in had
been purchased through nothing short of a divine intervention by the
Lord. It couldn't get any better but it was soon to get worse than I
ever could have possibly have imagined.
One night, just after the Sunday evening service, the youngest
man on the pulpit committee came and asked me if I could meet with
them in the pastor's office just briefly. I was so excited. This was
my big day. I could hardly contain myself. They were going to tell
me I was their first choice. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Sitting down, I soon learned that I would not be asked to pastor
the church. I was told that I knew too much about the people of the
church. It would be better, they said, if they got some man as a
pastor who knew nothing about our church problems and situations. The
longer they talked, the heavier my body became. I had never felt the
weight of my blindness like this before. Their words even felt heavy
and it seemed as if I had stopped breathing.
I knew two things. First, they weren't going to let me be their
pastor because I was blind. They never used the word blind that night
but it was there, as big as an elephant in the living room; a blind
elephant. Secondly, they spoke a partial truth; they didn't want me
because, they said, "You even know too much about us." If you are
thinking, they had no idea what a pastor was supposed to be, you would
be right. Just before leaving, they asked if I had any questions or
comments. I said no because you have obviously already made up your
minds without ever once asking me any questions. I had agreed to
remain as their interim pastor until they decided upon a new pastor.
Why I agreed to that, I will never know, except that, in the back of
my mind, I hoped they would change their mind. Four months later, the
new pastor took over. I put my home on the market and soon moved back
The youngest member of the pulpit committee gave me a ride home
that night after the horrible news had been delivered. We were the
same age and close friends and I loved him like the brother I never
had. I could not think of a single word to say to my friend on the
way home. My mind simply wasn't working. His car felt like a cold
tomb to me, my mind was blank, and it felt like I was carrying a
hundred pound sack of concrete on my back. My friend tried to
encourage me by telling me that the Lord would give me a church some
day but I told him I found that hard to believe. He asked why. I
told him if they had seen and watched what I could do for the last
year and a half, and if they, who had heard me preach, and had watched
me develop the youth group, couldn't even give me a chance, how could
I expect anyone else to do the same.
That night, my wife and I cried as if our child had unexpectedly
died. We had been rejected and, we both knew, it was largely due to
our blindness. I awakened at 2 o'clock in the morning and noticed my
wife wasn't in bed. I heard her in the living room crying almost
uncontrollably. I thought of getting out of bed and going to try and
encourage her but I felt as badly as she did and I was unable to move.
A few days later, my friend came to the house. I don't recall
how, but the subject of their refusal to even allow me to try being
the pastor surfaced in the conversation. He admitted to me privately,
that they had discussed my blindness and came to the conclusion that
they, these three sighted men, could not see how a blind man could
pastor a church so their decision was based upon my blindness. The
weight became even heavier and the rejection I felt for the first time
since I had lost my sight grew so dense, I felt as if I were
My wife's sister offered to pay her way to come for a visit,
along with our newly born daughter, and our son. She left for a week.
I had lots of things around the house to keep me busy, the house was
on the market and would soon sell in the ever increasing house market
of that day, and we would be moving. The death of my father, the loss
of my sight a year later, and hundreds of other things began falling
on me and sticking. The weight increased during that week my wife and
children were gone. Loneliness and a feeling of isolation became
One night, while my wife was gone, I stayed up quite late. I
didn't want to go to bed until I was so sleepy, I couldn't stand up.
The last thing I wanted to do is lay in bed and think.
It was at this time, I heard the voice saying, "You should have
been a woman. You'd make a better woman than a man." I had no idea
where that voice was coming from in my thoughts but it frightened me
in ways I had never experienced in my life and I shrank from it. I
was a man, though, and to prove it, I allowed my masculine sexuality
to show itself. Not understanding why, I soon walked naked throughout
the house as if I were drugged. I honestly felt as if I were losing
my mind. Something dark and evil hung in the air and I fought to
maintain control but felt myself losing. "See? You should have been
a woman," the voice said again. I tried to argue but was too weak, it
seemed, to defend myself. "If you were a woman, you could serve
others but as a man, you are rejected." The rejection almost formed
into a figure and I felt desperate. "Why don't you go outside. No
one will care," the voice taunted. I fought back.
Breathing hard and tears in my eyes, I went to our bedroom and
found my wife's clothes. If I was a woman, maybe I should act like
one. I put my wife's clothes on and soon sexually fulfilled myself
and then cried myself to sleep due to total emotional exhaustion.
When I awakened the next morning, I Now carried the massive weight of
guilt and shame on top of rejection. The ministry was over for me and
I knew it.
My remaining 4 months in that town were agonizing but I stayed
and continually hoped those three men would change their mind. It
never happened. The only good thing that happened during that time
was the surprise party the youth group had for me. When our home
sold, we moved back to Denver and tried to start over.
I told my wife what I had done and although I knew their was a
reason, I couldn't find one. Almost another 25 years would pass, and
I would be 50 years of age, before the Lord revealed the truth.
Fast forward now from that experience at 27 years of age to my
50th year of life. Keep in mind, too, what all I have already said
about turning 50 years of age. Recall the depression, anxiety, panic
attacks, and demonic voices I was hearing. I knew the voices I heard
were indeed demonic because they often encouraged me to kill myself.
Yet, everything I tried to do to send them away wouldn't work.
During one of our prayer sessions, the memory of my naked mother
changing her clothes in the bedroom as I walked precariously into her
bedroom and saw her, flashed into my mind with amazing forcefulness.
As we prayed in and around this fragment of a memory, it seemed frozen
in time. Could she had molested me? It was possible but there was no
memory of such behavior. Perhaps it was suppressed? Possibly. It
would be two more prayer sessions until the truth was revealed.
In the subsequent prayer session that revealed the truth, I found
myself once again in my mother's bedroom. I could hear my own
thoughts. "I shouldn't be in here. I shouldn't be seeing this.
Something is wrong." I felt fear but couldn't easily identify it at
As my prayer partner continued praying, he said, "Phil, look at
the little boy. Watch him and listen to what he is thinking."
I could hear the man in the room with me praying. I saw myself,
the little boy, standing there with a perplexed facial expression.
Suddenly, I heard the other voice. "See? You should have been a
Instantly, my mind flashed across more than a quarter century of time
until it struck at the heart of the rejection I felt being turned down
as a pastor due to my blindness. The same words, "You should have
been a woman. You'd make a better woman than a man," echoed in my
thoughts. Now I understood. A lie that had been planted in the mind
of an innocent little boy before his mind was capable of reason or
discernment had been suppressed due to fear he felt. The Enemy, at
that split second in time, took advantage of his little mind and
planted a lie. It was a lie he, the Evil One, would patiently wait to
use once again to bring massive mental and emotion confusion. The
Enemy waited all these years to attempt to destroy one man's life,
family, and relationship with God for ever. Like a coiled snake, he
sensed the exact time to strike his victim when it would do maximum
damage to dozens of people. In my mind, now as a 50 year old man,
upon hearing the lie the first time as a little boy, instantly
recognized when the snake struck the second time using the same
identical lie. The Two memories, separated by nearly 50 years, merged
and exploded like two colliding suns. All the hurt and pain and
rejection and confusion about what God had created me to be,
crystallized and God's truth blasted the woundedness and pain out of
existence. I wasn't a woman. It was a lie I had heard when I was too
young to comprehend and you thought Satan played fair.
After being turned down to be the pastor of that small mountain
town church and moving back to Denver, I tried reconstructing my
travel ministry once again. I obtained a few meetings but those weeks
were the loneliest and most discouraging I had ever faced. I had
sinned, after all, and if people listening to me preach knew I had put
on women's clothes, they would run me out of the building. Still, I
preached and I cried when I was alone. I couldn't tell anybody. My
wife was the only person on earth who knew what I had done. She
probably thought I was crazy anyway. I knew anyone else I told would
also believe I was crazy. What was I going to do? I couldn't stay in
the ministry any longer.
Following my last preaching trip, I went home and eventually
started a high speed cassette duplicating business for churches across
the country. It would be another 23 years before I learned the truth
that a demon had whispered a lie into my childhood mind and the truth
indeed would set me free.
Some reading this true testimony stopped reading because it
sounded too theologically weird and ridiculous to them. Some of you
felt uncomfortable. This is probably because the Holy Spirit touched
something inside of your life the triggered the discomfort. If so,
that's good because it means Jesus wants to heal your woundedness just
like He did for me. He wants to renew your mind so you can become
closer to Him than you ever dreamed possible. Don't you want to know
why you cross dress, have been labeled a transvestite, homosexual,
lesbian, or want to even have a complete sex change? Why not call me,
if you feel led to, and lets talk about it and see what the Lord wants
to do in your life.
End Of Document
Safe Place Fellowship
Denver, Colorado - Mountain Time Zone
Go To HOME: SafePlaceFellowship.COM