The Word of my Testimony, Part II

      Welcome back to part two of my testimony of church/Christian-inflicted hurt, and victory over it.  When I left off, I had told you about getting kicked out of a church for the heinous act of leading 24 children to the Lord at Vacation Bible School.  I had been really hurt by a series of events, starting with the death of my childhood church.  

     Following our expulsion from the second church, we joined a new (old actually, as it had been founded in 1927), better church.  I was accepted and loved.  Evangelism was normal and acceptable there.  The pastor would take the youth group out "soul winning" as he called it.  Instead of getting in trouble for it, I was encouraged to do it.  The church was a bit more conservative.  They used the King James Bible, and mostly sang hymns.  I embraced these things, because they felt safe to me.  In fact, because I contrasted them to the church where I had been hurt (which used the NIV and sang more contemporary praise songs), I went through a King James Only stage that I have alluded to in other posts on here.  I still love the King James Bible, and use it frequently.  But I digress.  I was still hurting and distrustful.  If someone was kind to me, I wondered what their angle was.  

     That next summer, I had the opportunity to serve as a summer missionary with Child Evangelism Fellowship (the ministry we serve with now).  They have a program for teens called Christian Youth in Action (or CYIA).  I was really nervous to go, because I was terrified of being rejected, or having my body made fun of.  I still carried that shame.  But deep in my heart, I knew God was calling me to go, so I did.  My life has never been the same.  That was the best summer of my life.  I encountered Jesus in a deep way.  I met godly teens who became my friends, and accepted me.  I felt included and normal for the first time in years.  Sometimes, even today, I lean on the strength of that time.  I was refreshed and renewed, and I know God met me there.  The icing on the cake was that a few families from the church I got kicked out of sent their kids to some of the 5-day clubs we taught, and I got to see some of them come to faith.  Two different parents from that church wrote me the sweetest thank-you notes for sharing Christ with their children.  Clearly, not everyone from that church had a problem with me.  Those cards they sent represent redemption to me, and I still have them to this day.  

     I often think of Mary Magdalene's encounter with Jesus after the resurrection (John 20:11-18).  He had delivered her, and changed her life. It must have seemed all joy was gone when He died.  She was so overcome with grief that she didn't recognize the Risen Lord at first, until he said her name in verse 16.  Jesus' very presence must have flooded her soul with joy and resurrection power!  That's how I felt that summer.  It was as if Jesus said my name, and joy was restored to me.  He is the joy-giver.  I started referring to that summer as a "prelude to Heaven".  I remember all the friends I made wrote letters to each other, and we'd sign them, "In Heaven if not sooner..." and then our names.  I saw Jesus in those around me, but mostly, I enocuntered His presencre in my heart.  Psalm 16:11 says, "...in thy presence is fullness of joy....  That is so true.  That's how the Apostle Paul was able to write (from Prison) in Philippians 4:12, I have leanred the secret of being content.  Jesus is enough.  He fulfills us deep inside.  

     While the healing had begun, I still had a broken heart and didn't know what to do about it.  I got addicted to doing ministry, because I wanted to encounter that joy, and felt it more when I served.  As a college student, I had a chance to serve on a mission trip to Zambia.  It was the most significant, wonderful, terrible, life-changing experience.  I experienced a lot of hurt from fellow Christians, and I'll only briefly go into it, but really it was compounded by my much deeper, earlier hurt.  

     A young man--a fellow missionary--demonstrated an interest in me right away at training.  He almost acted like a stalker.  He followed me around, stared at me, made weird little passes at me.  What was I supposed to do with it?  He wasn't acting normal.  I had no idea how to respond.  He didn't initiate normal conversation, or ask me to go on a walk or anything like that.  He made passive-aggressive references to sex, and that really freaked me out.  The thing was, I was attracted to him and interested, but didn't know how to respond to his odd advances.  It wasnt all crazy, though.  We had some really significant moments doing evangelism together, and he treated me like a hero for leading someone to Christ.  That did a lot for my heart (which had been shattered by being rejected after witnessing).  He told me he wanted to be a missionary because of me.  I wondered if this was my future husband.  He was pressing into a very needy part of my heart, the part that craved approval for doing evangelism.  There was an attraction.   But there was also confusion, because he'd go back to being weird and over the top.  He made really bad passes at me, and one night, he came onto me too strongly.  He hadn't made anything offiicial with me, but he was trying to get me to get romantic and (I'm convinced) into bed with him.  It was a huge stumbling block to me.  I can't even tell you how big.  It both aroused and outraged me.  I rejected his advance, and it didn't end well.  We later had opportunites to continue the relationship, and he basically proposed.  Not officially, mind you.  He talked about our honeymoon, and how I inspired him, and how he wanted me to be his wife.  I can't tell you what that did to me. The girl who had been rejected by a church was desired by someone.  I was so confused, and it really affected the ministry.  

     Have you ever seen The Sound of Music?  That's one of my favorite movies.  There is a scene where the oldest von Trapp daughter, Liesl,  has a romantic rendezvous with her boyfriend Rolf.  In their little song they sing (Sixteen going on Seventeen), Rolf tells her he'll take care of her, and kisses her in the end, but then runs away as soon as he does.  Liesl is standing there delighted.  Why is she delighted?  No real plans or commitment have happened.  He ran off as soon as he kissed her.  But her hormones have been stirred.  Her hopes have been awakened by this young man (who ends up leaving her for the Nazis!).  That's how it was with this mission trip guy.  Nothing concrete was ever done or planned, but it was very much like Rolf and Liesl's rendezvous, only over a longer time, and a little less G-rated.  Oh, and we didn't sing or dance, either.  And no Nazis, but you get the idea.  Much like Rolf, this young man later let me go, and denied everything.  

     That was a lot of hurt and confusion.  More rejection, which I felt I must have deserved.  People who didn't get invited to Disneyland birthday parties, had their bodies made fun of at youth group, and got kicked out of churches must deserve it.  It started having panic attacks more regularly.  

     The other hurtful aspect about my mission trip was that I had to room with a terrible young woman who was a few years older than me.  She was cruel, manipulative, and caustic.  If I liked something, she hated it.  If I made a totally innocent or innocuous comment about ANYTHING, she would move heaven and earth to try to turn it into a fight and disprove what I had said.  If I did something, she would criticize and correct me in front of everyone.  She had a fit one day because she didn't like how I peeled potatoes.  While I was teaching, she would move the bookmarks in my Bible so I would use the verses she wanted me to use instead of the ones I had planned.  If I put down any sort of boundary with her (such as, please don't move the bookmarks in my Bible), she would scream bloody murder and cry, and since everyone was sick of her, they blamed me for setting her off, instead of blaming her for her own sin.  I basically couldn't speak if she was around.  I sometimes pretended I was askeep so she would leave me alone.  She had the nationals we stayed with wrapped around her finger, so they thought I was the bad one.  

     One particular day while we were in Zambia, we were walking to our next Bible Club.  Two men ran up to me out of nowhere and grabbed me.  They put their hands inside my clothes.  I was terrified!  I was convinced they were trying to kidnap and/or rape me.  I screamed and kicked them.  This evil teammate just laughed and pointed as I tried to fight them off.  Our national missionary came up and yelled something at them in Bemba (the local language), and they immediately let me go and ran away.  I was crying, feeling like I might throw up.  I couldn't stop shaking, but I was still made to go teach the Bible Club ten minutes later.  My teammate kept saying, "They probably went for Janelle because she's the most scared!"  If I could have become a murder right then, I'd be writing this post from prison!  No one ever brought up what happened again.  I was supposed to just get over it.  When I was still trembling a few minutes later, I was told I was selfish and that not everything is about me.  

     My consolation during these times was God's Word, and my own writing.  I felt I had a deeper connection to God, and my own thoughts, being so far away from all who knew and loved me.  This was still the 20th century (barely), and there wasn't a lot of technology to contact home, especially in a third-world country.  I was really on my own.  There was this church right next door to where we were staying, and I would often take my notebook there and write.  God led me to write stories reminiscent of the church I had loved, that had died (only in my fictional version, it lived).  These were the beginning of what would become my Riverside County Chronicles, and eventually the spin-off series the San Bernardino County Chronicles--a total of 15 books beyween the two series.  These characters became like friends to me, and I got to know them.  I feel that was a gift from God.  A reminder of what was real.  

     So, over the years, how did I heal from all of this stuff--and other hurtful things that came up (because they do in this life)?  How do we reinforce our faith, rather than deconstruct it?  I can tell you what I did.  

     1) I stayed in God's word.  I searched for answers.  There were days I would write out verses and the lyrics of songs that ministered to me.  I listened to Christian music.  I prayed as if my life depended on it.  I carried a pocket New Testament with me at all times, and would read it whenever my feelings overwhelmed me.  There were days I couldn't go more than thirty minutes without reading the Bible.  I listened for the Holy Spirit to speak to my heart and spirit about what was happening.  He would remind me of a higher truth than what I was experiencing from hurtful people.  The truth of eternity, and what His word said, not what people said.  My favorite song from that time was Last to be Chosen (by Ray Boltz--I know he has left the godly lifestyle, but this was before that--and his music was still used by God),  I felt like a reject--an underdog, and yet I was called by God.  I had to hang onto that.  The lyrics of this song said: The last to be Chosen are the first He will call, and what He does through them will amaze one and all.  Standing for Jesus, when others may fall.  The last to be Chosen are the first He will call.  

    2) As I said in the last post, God is not the same entity as the people who represent Him.  None of those who hurt me are God.  They didn't have God's approval.  God brought some better people into my life that ministered to my spirit.  There have been many.  That's an important lesson--surround yourself with people who help you, who speak God's truth to you.  They should be those who love and comfort you with gentleness when you need it, and also speak hard truths when you need it (and have the wisdom to know when to do both).  A weakness I have is that I hold on way too long to friendships that aren't healthy.  I love people, and have a hard time moving on.  Sometimes, there is a good reason to move on.  I have stayed in hurtful friendships for periods of time, and only let the relationship go when it got extremely painful--when I could have avoided it and stepped away much sooner.  It's a lesson I'm still learning.  I think I'll always err on the side of loyalty, and that's a good thing in some cases, but I really need God's discernment to help me know when to move on.  

  3) I went to counseling.  I remember telling my counselor about the young man--my "Rolf" from the mission trips--and when I told her about the time he really came on very strongly, I quickly told her, "But I'm sure he didn't mean it like that," because everyone had excused his sin and made me feel like I was the bad one for even thinking he had sex in mind.  This counselor looked me in the eye and said, "Yes, he did."  Hearing someone else speak the truth I knew in my heart was such a relief I cried--hard and long.  It was the beginning of some of the healing for me.  Also, prior to going to counseling, I really thought my problems had started in Zambia, but I realized most of it actually stemmed from losing the church I loved and being kicked out of the next one.  To be honest, there are still days I struggle with both of these things. Neither of those things are supposed to happen to us.  But neither are a lot of things that occur on this earth, and we can rejoice when Jesus comes back and sets everything right.  I have to believe He will restore what was lost, and continue to restore my joy.

  4) In addition to the Bible, I read godly books, and limited other media.  My young adult years were when the Internet was becoming known.  I chose for that season not to have it in my home (until I got married).  I used it at the library, but really minimized it.  I had a landline phone only (in my early 20's that was still the norm anyway).  I chose not to have commercial TV (and this was before streaming).  I read books that encouraged my heart and soul.  One of my favorites was Heart Huner; Lettting God meet your Emotional Needs, by Cindi McMenamin.  Fictionally, I love The Chrnoicles of Narnia, and wouldn't be exaggerating if I said I've read that series at least a dozen times.  While driving in the car, I listened to Focus on the Family's radio theater books, and audio dramas, and those really encouraged me as well.  

  5) I went to Celebrate Recovery.  This brought deeper healing post-counseling.  It was the best thing I ever did, other than Salvation.  I met my husband (in a round about way) as a result of my involvement at Celebrate Recovery.  I made lifelong friends who wanted to be healthy and open about their struggles.  It was truly unique, because in most Christian Bible study settings, people aren't as open and transparent with what they're going through.  It made me feel less alone, knowing there were other people who were also hurting, and willing to talk about it.  Some had similar hurts to mine.  Others had hurts I hope I never experience.  But we were all there to seek God's healing, and help each other.  It's important to note (because I didn't know this prior to being invited to CR), but you don't have to be addicted to drugs or alcohol to go.  It's open to anyone with hurts, habits, or hangups.  We all have something that we can work on, and this program really works!  I currently use the children's CR curriculum with our preschool-aged son as part of his daily quiet time.  

  6) I wrestled with things I was told.  There is a lot of well-meant advice out there, but not all of it is the right advice.  I had to wrestle with what I was told, and form my conclusions based on God's word.  Even godly people sometimes disagreed with what I had concluded, and I had to hold firm to what God had led me to do.  A lot of my friends at the time really got into the belief (false belief) that God doesn't speak to us today, and that we can do whatever we want, as long as it isn't defined in the Bible as sin, but the Holy Spirit doesn't guide us.  I had to really wrestle with that.  I wouldnt he here now if that were true.  There is no joy in a life without God's presence and voice.  It's true that anything we think we're being told has to line up with the Bible.  However, within this guideline, God most certainly can and does speak to us.  I remember one day, when I was still struggling with my "Rolf" and wondering if God would bring him back into my life (it goes to show how much I was struggling, because looking at it more objectively now, I can see how unhealthy it was and how it would have been terrible to have him back!).  I really needed God to answer me, and I prayed that He would show me if I should hold out for "Rolf" or move on.  I then studied the Bible lesson I was teaching the children at AWANA that week.  It was the lesson about Samuel anointing David as king, taken from First Samuel 16.  The very first verse jumped out at me. ...How long will you mourn for Saul, seeing as I have rejected him...  I know that verse wasn't written about me or my situation, but under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, God used it to answer my question and prayer in my moment of need.  How long would I mourn for "Rolf" seeing as God had rejected him from my life?  I believe God does that for us.  The author of the Bible lives in our hearts, and guides us into all truth.  At that time in my life, I lived in the Los Angeles area, and a lot of Christians there follow John MacArthur, who espouses this doctrine that the Bible does not address us personally.  He is a strong ceassationist, and believes spiritual gifts passed at the completion of the New Testament.  While I am not a charismatic or Pentecostal, I think the ceasationist position goes beyond what scripture says about these gifts, and I am therefore a cautious continuationist (meaning I'd be open to all biblical gifts, if they are done in accordance with scripture).  I am willing to agree to disagree with believers of all positions on this.  My problem with ceasatinism (as John MacArthur presents it) is that it leaves no room for the Holy Spirit to work in our lives at all.  He tells people how they're allowed to hear from God.  This was what a lot of my friends were caught up with during that time, and I had to wrestle my way through it, with the Bible and Holy Spirit, to determine what I believed, and what I was called to do in my own life of healing from hurts (honestly, John MacArthur's teaching offered nothing to the broken and hurting people like myself).

  7) I ran the race marked out for me.  Come rain or shine, I got up every day, read my Bible, and did what I was called to do.  I saw a lot of wonderful ministry happen.  I went to Bible College.  I did a lot of evangelism.  I started a teen discipleship program that combined training them to evangelize, riding horses, reading The Chronicles of Narnia, and of course, studying the Bible.  One student I discipled is now a fulltime missionary because of that time, and others are in good, productive Christian lives as well.  I worked for the YMCA for a while, and made some of the best friends of my life there, and had professional success and encouragement.  I have taught Sunday school and AWANA.  I urge anyone to keep doing what God leads them to do.  One of the best things I did was direct a play of A Charlie Brown Christmas.  I know eternal differences have been made, and I didn't wast my time.  

Linus and Charlie Brown in our Christmas play!

     Sometimes, things still hurt.  I still have my triggers.  For many years, certain 90s praise songs used to put me in a panic attack (because we sang them at the church I got kicked out of).  I have mostly overcome that, but there are other things that hit my buttons.  If I feel left out or disregarded, I really struggle.  I have to keep working on these things with God's help, but I am still running my race.  At the end, I want to be able to say with the Apostle Paul,  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith... (Second Timothy 4:7).  

The Word of my Testimony, Part I

     I am seeing more and more people (mostly from my generation) deconstructing their faith.  Some are famous Christian celebrities.  Others, sadly, are people I know personally, and grew up with, and love very much.  These people are sharing how they were brought up in biblical Christianity, possibly made a profession of faith at a young age, and then deciding they will be leaving their beliefs.  Every story I read has something in common with all the others.  There was never any sort of evidence that supposedly debunked the claims of Christianity for them.  It was often because someone failed them.  Someone who should have known better didn't do better.  Sometimes, their life experiences didn't match what they had been led to expect as a follower of Christ.  Some experienced abuse in the name of Christianity.  I can sympathize with these hurts, and yes, even empathize with some, but I cannot agree with their solution that Jesus and the Bible were not true after all.  There has to be another explanation.  Let's search for the truth!

     The greatest times of pain in my life have been from fellow Christians.  Why aren't we prepared for church/Christian hurts?  We prepare for other kinds of hurt.  We wear seatbelts because we anticipate having to slam on the breaks sometimes, and want to avoid getting thrown around the car.  We have first aid kits because we know that, sooner or later, we'll need a bandaid or antibiotic ointment.  We keep medicine in our bathrooms because we know there will come a time when we'll need it.  And yet we are not prepared sometimes for the biggest hurts we can experience in life--church hurt, or hurt from fellow believers in general.  Why is that?  Did the Bible warn us about it?  

     My pre-puberty childhood was very happy.  I grew up in a friendly neighborhood, where everyone knew each other.  All the kids on our street would jumprope and ride bikes together all afternoon and all day Saturdays.  People helped and trusted each other.  A group of us would ride our bikes to the shopping center down the road and get candy and ice cream.  One of our friends would make prank phone calls from the payphone.  Her favorite victim was Hooked on Phonics (1-800-ABC-DEFG).  They would answer, and she'd say, "Hooked on Phonics works for me!" and then hang up saying, "I sure showed them!"  I'm not sure what she thought she showed them.  She would then beg us not to tell any adults she had done it.  She was kind of the Eddie Haskell of our friend group.  

With friends at our house

     Probably an even bigger influence was our church family.  We were part of a close-knit church, that was also a home-school group.  This was in the 80's before homeschooling had the acceptance it does today, and we functioned more like a Christian school.  Our school had a name, and we had school T-shirts with a logo and everything.  We had classes together during the week.  We had field trips, park days, and skating rink days, all a few times monthly.  This is not to mention that we also all went to Sunday school and AWANA together, and visited each other's families frequently.  We were very close.  I never felt left out or insecure.  I was learning to know the Lord from people who really loved me, and loved my family.  If someone had a birthday party, everyone was invited.  Sometimes, we would even spend holidays with each other as families.  

With my siblings in front of our church--from our 1991 Christmas cards!

 

    The summer of 1992, everything changed, and not only because I hit puberty that summer.  Our church fell apart.  There is a lot to that story, and a lot that had been slowly happening behind the scenes, even in the best times leading up to it.  All of my dearest friends left and got involved in other churches and school groups.  We still saw each other around town, but I didn't have that close group of friends.  The ones who stayed were petty.  I'll never forget when Holly* told me in the worst spoiled-brat voice you can imagine, "I'm having my birthday party at Disneyland this year, and I'm inviting everyone in our class except you!"  I was extremely hurt, but tried to act like I didn't care, and I replied that I thought Disneyland was boring anyway.  It was horrible the day after the party when everyone else came in with their Disneyland souvenirs, laughing about fun memories made at the Happiest Place on Earth...without me.  I wasn't important.   Holly's mother was my teacher, and I adored her (still do), but she wasn't clued in on how mean Holly was, or how the other girls went along with it.  This was a very lonely time in my life.  On the other hand, my old friends--the good friends--moved on with their lives, as if our times together didn't matter or weren't important.  I felt forgotten.  I am still really sensitive about feeling left out, or forgotten, or inconsequential.

     I think the Lord was doing things in my heart during those lonely times.  I was growing more like Jesus.  The next summer (1993), I went to a Christian camp, and there was a girl in my cabin who was bright and beautiful, but had been through a lot of hurt in her life, and was currently in a Christian foster home.  The other girls from her church group were really mean to her.  Knowing how that felt, my heart went out, and I knew God was calling me to befriend her.  That was the first time in my life I felt called to do something specific like that.  John 10:27 says, My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.  I cried about the hurts she had gone through, as she told me.  I found I listened, and took in.  God was using this to shape my heart to be an adoptive mother years later.  

     Shortly after this, our church totally died.  As far as I was concerned, it already had, but it ceased to exist at all.  The next church we went to felt so alive after seeing our once-vibrant church die.  I remember having a very hard time moving on, and even feeling guilty if I made new friends, because it felt like I was betraying my old friends.  I eventually did make friends, and got some good babysitting jobs.  But it was at this church that I would experience the biggest hurts of my life.  

     I believe good and bad can coexist in churches, even in individual people.  The leadership at that church were used of God for tremendous good, bringing many to Christ.  In what I'm going to share, I don't diminish the good, or someone else's story of being blessed and ministered to there.  I know that happened.  On the other hand, our family was irrevocably damaged forever.  I need to be careful, because I don't want to tell anyone else's story, just my own.  My sister and I were hurt badly by the mean girls there, and it continues to affect us both (mainly because no one took it seriously when it happened, and our needs were minimized, and excuses were made for the sins of others).  The youth group was led by a husband and wife, and the wife made inappropriate comments about my body in front other others, and to this day, I struggle with body image issues (interestingly, when our class did a skit where we portrayed some of the adults in the church, she insisted I play her).  She would belittle me and humiliate me in front of the whole youth group, not because I was doing something wrong, but because I would witness to new people who came.  This woman called it "shoving it down people's throats" and would berate me for it. One particular time, she invited me over to her home, along with some other girls from the youth group.  It was supposedly a new "discipleship" program.  I was excited at having been invited, but she ended up humiliating me, and had this set up where no one would speak to me, and totally ignored me.  It was meanness at its finest.  One of the girls eventaully wrote me a letter, apologizing for that.   It was psychological abuse.  I know this woman will answer to God one day for it.  That is my consolation, and what keeps me from hating her.  From her teaching in our class, I gather that her god was very small, and not the same God I knew.  

     The last straw came when I was teaching in Vacation Bible School.  Every Christian has a gift (Romans 12:16).  My gift has proven to be evangelism.  That summer at VBS, I was helping in the 2nd grade class with a very sweet older man named Mr. Johnson.  God gave Mr. Johnson some special grace for me, and he asked me to share the Gospel with the class every day after he told the Bible story.  When I stood up there in that room, this power came over me.  I can't explain it, other than Acts 1:8 says that the Holy Spirit empowers us to share the Gospel.  At that time, I couldn't have NOT shared the Gospel.  That is why it is so hard for me when I'm in situations where I'm told not to share, because I can't help it.  It is physically and mentally painful not to.  It's like trying to dam a river.  At that long-ago VBS, and many times since, the Gospel  poured out without my having to plan what I was going to say.  I was in control of my faculties.  It wasn't weird, but God was guiding me to say it.  That week, 24 children in our class came to salvation!  One of them was the daughter of the teacher who hated me.  

     The pastor acted like he was really proud of me, but behind my back, he told Mr. Johnson that a teenager had no business witnessing, and not to allow it anymore.  The children's ministry director even expressed legal concerns about my evangelizing.  I personally think she was crazy.  Mr. Johnson told me about the pastor's rule against teenagers witnessing later on.  But he faced a moral dilemma.  Would he obey the pastor, or the Holy Spirit?  He chose the Holy Spirit, and I continued witnessing.  I still have a letter he wrote me at the end of the week, thanking me for my help and telling me I made a very good missionary.  He supported my ministry until the Lord called him home about a decade ago.  The result of his obeying the Holy Spirit over the pastor was that both Mr. Johnson and my family were persona non grata at that church.  For the rest of his life, Mr. Johnson struggled with forgiveness and finding peace after being hurt by that church.  

     I am now a middle-aged adult.  I have seen power sturggles and misunderstandings.  I've seen this in various ministries.  I've seen it in communities.  I've seen it politically.  I know that this happens.  But back in the mid-90's, I was a high schooler.  I had no frame of reference for any of this.  All I knew was that I had gotten my family kicked out of a church.  I didn't know anyone ever got kicked out of any church.  That sounded so big and bizarre.  I felt very guilty, because it affected my family, not just me.  I didn't mean to do it.  My brother was the only one of us who wasn't treated meanly, and he had a lot of friends, and he lost them because of this.  I hated that it did that to him, because I knew what it meant to lose friends.  

     If Mr. Johnson and I had been sinning, the pastor should have confronted us in love, and if we didn't respond, he should have brought two others with him and confronted us again.  If we still didn't hear him, it should have come before the church.  This is the method of church confrontations Jesus put forth in Matthew 18.  The pastor did not follow it.  He didn't have a biblical basis to follow it, beasue sharing the Gospel is, in fact, a command of God, not a sin.  But not only did he not do the biblical method here, but after he told us we were no longer welcome, he acted surprised the next Sunday when we didn't show up.  My parents had responsibilities and classes they taught, and he didn't get substitutes, and he told everyone we had just bailed and he didn't know where we were.  We found this out from others who left shortly after us.  That was an outright lie, and God can't honor lying.  We still remained friends with some in that church, and months later, I was at their house and saw their newest edition of the church directory by their phone.  Curious, I looked inside, and found we were still listed as members in that directory, even though it was printed after we had been asked to leave.  That also felt dishonest.  We had already joined another church by then.  

     When he asked us to leave, the pastor told my dad that I was just too "different' and people couldn't help disliking me, and it was my own fault the youth leader's wife had mistreated me.  I wish my dad hadn't told me he said that.  He told me in order to show how ridiculous it was, but I was still a teenager--an age when acceptance means everything, and I had been rejected by a place where we should feel the most acceptance.  This all came on the back of losing my other church, that I had loved so much.  I could still hear Holly's mean remark about not inviting me to her Disneyland party echoing in my heart, accompanied by the pastor saying I was too different and deserved to be mistreated, and the youth leader making mean jokes about my body.  It probably isn't surprising that I became suicidal.  If other Christians couldn't love me, it must mean I wasn't good enough.  I remember one particular time, I considering drinking gasoline.  I literally believed nothing good would ever happen to me again.  I thought the best of life was behind me.  That hopelessness isn't God's will for us.  To think of any high schooler feeling this way breaks my heart, not even considering it was me.  I can completely understand teen suicide, that feeling that you're lost and broken and no one can ever love you or help you again.  Somewhere inside, though, I held on.  Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God. Psalm 42:11.

     How did I get out of this?  I am obviously not in that place now.  I didn't drink gasoline (though I did some self-harm that I have repented of).  I am a joyful Christian woman, STILL evangelizing (and yes, sometimes still facing opposition from those who should support it).  I'm going to share a Part II soon, but for now I want to go back to my original question.  Did the Bible warn us about church hurt?  For a long time, I didn't think it did, but then I came across these verses:

John 16:1-4, “I have said all these things to you to keep you from falling away. They will put you out of the synagogues. Indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think he is offering service to God. And they will do these things because they have not known the Father, nor me.  But I have said these things to you, that when their hour comes you may remember that I told them to you.  Okay, what I get from that is that Jesus is warning them about being rejected and kicked out of their synagogues--their spiritual communities.  Jesus wanred about being misunderstood by those who claimed to know and speak for God.  But according to this verse, these people don't know God .  I am not suggesting all pastors who hurt their people are actually not really saved.  I know that this pastor knew the Lord for salvation.  But he wasn't acting in a godly manner in doing this.  He didn't have God's stamp of approval on rejecting my family and Mr. Johnson, or misrepresenting us the next Sunday.  

    Another biblical example is that Jesus was rejected and alone.  Peter, a close friend, had denied him.  Judas, another close friend, had betrayed him.  If you or I have experienced rejection from those who should be loving us, we have shared in Jesus' sufferings.  And sharing in His sufferings brings rewards.  He chose me to share in that with Him at a young age, and I'm honored and in awe that He chose me.  Buty it still hurts.  I'll share more about how I got healing in my next post, but for today, know that Jesus did warn us.  Someone harming us is not reason to leave the faith.  Jesus is separate from those who claim to represent Him.  Just because I was wounded in church didn't mean Jesus didn't really die for my sins.  It doesn't mean the Bible is untrue.  That never changed.  That is non-negotiable.  I never doubted God or His word, but I did doubt His people for many years.  I distrusted a lot of good people.  I acted normal in public, only to go have a panic attack in the closet when I got home.  God has victory for people like you and me.  Watch for Part II...