We all have a history. We all have a past. Some of us have
been raised in the church and been hurt, and hurt so badly our aching hearts
have wandered beyond the wooden pews and air-conditioned walls never to return.
The one place that we should be finding solace, salve applied to our
woundedness, and drinking from the well becomes a place of cold unacceptance,
obliterating judgment, intolerance, lack of compassion for wounded hearts, and
the kind of piety and hypocrisy that sets itself up as one step closer to The
Savior than you because you have different convictions.
Yesterday, I went to church. Yesterday, you didn’t see the
tears that had caused my mascara to run. Yesterday, I needed understanding, a
soft place to land my hurting heart. Yesterday, you told me that I wasn’t
strong enough, that I hadn’t forgiven enough. Yesterday, I went home feeling
defeated.
Yesterday, I went to church. Two days ago, my family fell
apart. Yesterday, I heard how I wasn’t living a godly enough life, and that is
why my family is broken. That it was somehow my fault that reconciliation could
not be reached. Yesterday, I needed to hear how sin affects us all. And
yesterday, I needed to hear that Jesus hates the loneliness and pain I am going
through as a result of it. Yesterday, I needed what the church claims to be: a
family. Yesterday, I heard that I wasn’t a part of any family, that I wasn’t
welcome in any family. Yesterday, I went home lonelier than I felt when I
entered the doors.
Yesterday, I took my two little girls to church. Alone.
Yesterday, I struggled to get their hair fixed and breakfast fed. But I did it.
Alone. And I cried because this isn’t what I wanted, to do this alone. I needed
to know that Jesus was there with me. That He has plans to prosper me and not
to harm me. Yesterday, I was proud of myself for taking my girls and myself to
church. It was something I wanted for all of us. Yesterday, I walked in with my
hands full of two rambunctious girls who were missing the daddy they barely
knew. Yesterday, I was met with cold judgment. Yesterday, I felt unwelcome.
Yesterday, I heard, “Where is your husband?” Yesterday, I needed to hear, “How
can I help?” Yesterday, I left feeling that church was the place for intact
families. Yesterday, I left feeling that the divorce was my fault that there
must have been something wrong with me and that is why he left. All because my
girls were giggling in the back row. Yesterday, I needed compassion. Yesterday,
I didn’t receive it. Yesterday, I left feeling like I wasn’t needed, that I was
permanently flawed, and that I was the reason my life was in shambles.
Tomorrow, I don’t know if I will be able to get out of bed. My heart is breaking.
Yesterday, I went to church. Yesterday, I heard about how
disgusting homosexuality was to God. Yesterday, I heard how my sexual
preferences were too despicable for Jesus to redeem. Yesterday, I heard how my
sexual preferences were the problem with America. Yesterday, I heard ignorance
from the pulpit. Yesterday, I left feeling angry. Angry because these
Christians don’t get it. They don’t understand how your sexual preferences
develop in adolescence and sometimes you have no control over how those develop.
Especially if your first sexual encounter was by some older male authority
figure in your life. Yesterday, I left feeling hurt and misunderstood. And
yesterday, I left feeling that I was so far from the throne of grace that I
might as well quit trying.
Yesterday, I received a pastoral call. Yesterday, this
pastor told me that I had to have a relationship with my parents because of
their position in the church. Yesterday, I heard that it didn’t matter what
federal or state crimes they had committed against me, I had to forgive them,
have a relationship with them to preserve the peace and unity of the church,
and meet with elders on a monthly basis so they could determine if I had
forgiven them or not. Yesterday, I left feeling misunderstood. Yesterday I left
angry and hurt. Yesterday, I left feeling that there isn’t a single pastor in
the United States who understands the gravity of sexual, physical and emotional
abuse on the life of a child. Yesterday, I left feeling that the church had not
only failed, but also was grieving the heart of the Father.
Yesterday, I went to church for the first time in years.
Yesterday, no one said a word to me.
Yesterday, I went to church and pulled out a cigarette. I felt
the scorn of the holy ones. They don’t understand how hard it is to break the
cycle of addiction.
Yesterday, I went to church.
Tomorrow I won’t be back.
