When Church Feels like a Haunted House
My deepest wounds and most painful heartbreaks have come from Jesus-loving people.
For several years, I was loneliest when I was at church. As a toddler, I took off down the aisle when I saw my mom singing on the stage. By the time I was a teenager, I knew the building like the back of my hand. But the familiar cliché doesn’t skip over the church: hurt people do, indeed, hurt people.
My deepest wounds and most painful heartbreaks have come from Jesus-loving people.
Week after week, I sat in the parking lot and begged God for strength to step through the front door. Month after month, I walked familiar hallways while blinking back tears. For over a year, I felt most alone while surrounded by community.
My second home became a haunted house filled with ghosts.
I knew the story of David and Saul, of two men with years of beautiful history that evaporated when Saul turned on David. The confusion and sorrow jump off the page with words like these:
It is not an enemy who taunts me—
I could bear that.
It is not my foes who so arrogantly insult me—
I could have hidden from them.
Instead, it is you—my equal,
my companion and close friend.
What good fellowship we once enjoyed
as we walked together to the house of God.
(Psalm 55:12–14 NLT)
Tears streamed down my face as I read this psalm. The pain was palpable. And yet just a handful of chapters later, David declared that God sets the lonely in families. We don’t know how much time passed between penning these two psalms, but one thing is certain: God can turn the very thing that hurts you into the thing that heals you.
Sometimes healing looks like reconciliation. And sometimes it looks like walking through new doors with a tender but open heart. Neither is easy. But no matter which path we walk, there is an ever-present Friend who remains at our side and promises that the story never ends with brokenness.
a prayer you can borrow, when the hurt is close to home and the words are few . . .
Lord, You know what it’s like to be deeply wounded by a trusted, beloved friend. Please help me learn to trust again, fill me with strength to keep showing up, and bring beauty from what has broken. Because of You, I always have a reason to hope. Thank You for always seeing me in the crowd and never leaving my side. Amen.
Book news & a giveaway:
This is, easily, one of the hardest things I’ve written. I took very great care in the details and the timeline, with what is said and what isn’t. Still, my heart is pounding, knowing it’s officially in print. But when Kristen asked me if I would contribute something to a book called Praying Through Loneliness, the topic/theme/truth of this particular storyline from my history came rushing in and absolutely would not let me go.
I wrestled with “Can I say that? If so… how? Is there a way to write the straight up truth and to tell it clearly, while writing around the details so it reaches the reader with “me too” without exposing the where or the when or the who?”
I cried very real tears and prayed very earnest prayers that God would give me words that are nothing but truthful, while still being vague, in a desire to be kind. (Thank you, so very much, paid subscribers. You were there from start to finish as I wrote this one, and I’m grateful for your prayers!) It’s no exaggeration to say I’ve thought about and prayed over this every single week since it was turned into the publisher over a year ago. There are so few posts or books about something like this, and as desperately as I’ve longed for one (or a dozen), I deeply understand why the gap exists. After all, I myself could write 50,000 words and yet, mostly, I’ve remained quiet about this particular storyline. Kristen sent the invitation, though, and I accepted because of a gentle prompting that I’m far, far, far from the only one who wouldn’t wish it on anyone, yet hopes someone else will get it, will say I’m so sorry and it’s awful and I see you and thank God for God and you are not alone.
Maybe that person is you. (If not, I bet it’s someone you know, even if you don’t know it.) If I could, I’d sit with you and listen to your story, offering a quiet presence as you navigate a page you didn’t expect to find yourself on.
Because I can’t do so physically, I promise to pray the prayer on your behalf, for anyone who comments with a heart below… and if you need a little more encouragement, Praying Through Loneliness (filled with stories from 40+ writers) is a great option. You may also resonate with chapter 3 (broken & mended) and chapter 4 (loneliness & community) of my book, which is titled Even If Not: Living Loving, and Learning in the in Between.
It really is an honor to be part of this new book, and it would be a joy to send a copy your way! Budgets are real and that reallyyyy puts a damper on mailing thousands of copies but (!) I do have an extra author copy that I’d love to share. To make it as easy as possible:
You can enter via Instagram (see this IG post) or right here. (Or both!) To enter here, tap the heart button at the top or the bottom of this email + leave a comment below so there’s a name with the heart. The message can be as simple as “I’d like to be entered!” :)
That’s it. 💛 Easy as can be.
I pray the words of this piece, and Praying Through Loneliness as a whole, will be a kind companion to you in this chapter of your story. May you know and believe: you are so dearly loved, and you are not alone.
Thank you for your honesty! I would like to be entered.
💜 sadly so true, thank you for your openness and honesty x