::my church::

I have decided to start with writing to/about my church for two reasons:

Firstly, I have owed my fellow church members this for a long time. My church has supported me, both prayerfully and financially, during the 2 years I spent with YWAM and they deserve to hear from me an explanation as to why I've only been to that church once or twice since I've been home.

Secondly, today is Sunday. I woke up particularly early on this Sunday morning without any real agenda. At first, I didn't intend on going to church at all today. I've been fighting a cold and begin a busy week tomorrow so I figured it might be best to just rest at home today. But then I started thinking of how wonderful it would be to spend the morning at church. Worshipping, learning, being filled in a very spiritual and emotional way. I started longing for a morning of prayer & worship and as quickly as the desire consumed me, I had to ask myself the sad, discouraging question...

"But...where?"

I had no idea where to attend church this morning and as I began googling churches in the area, visiting website after website, I eventually gave up. I felt disheartened that here, in the town I've grown up in and called home for 27 years, I don't have a church to attend on Sunday mornings. For some of that I blame myself for not being more proactive to just find a community and join it. But I don't take the blame for all of it. The wounds from this are still very raw, so please bear with me as I explain...

I was born into my church. My parents attended this church before they became parents and they still call it their home church now, over 30 years later. When I say I "grew up" in the church, I don't mean that I just grew up attending the Sunday morning services there. I mean that when I look back on my childhood, I see that church. I see Mondays and Thursdays and Saturdays and Sundays spent there...on a slow week. I see all-nighters, when all of us puppet team "sponsor's kids" would get in our sleeping bags at the top of the stairs in the foyer and talk and laugh and nap as our parents' worked through the night. I see that room - that room where I was dedicated as a baby, where I was baptized as a teenager, where I was commissioned in my missionary work as a young adult. The room where I stood in the same spot next to my sister as she got engaged and as she got married. The room I've celebrated countless weddings in and grieved through some difficult funerals. This room, this Sanctuary, holds so much of my life.

Church is community, it's spiritual growth, it's a support system. It's your legs when you can't take another step and your voice when you can't speak another word. It's like the net of a trapeze artist. The net that catches you when you're falling down into the pit. It keeps you from the pit. From the cold, hard ground. It's softens the fall and holds you there until you're ready to try climbing back to the top again. It doesn't make fun of you for falling or remove itself if your fall was unnecessary or even if it wasn't a fall at all - but a jump, instead. The net...the Church...is unconditional. The Church is love. The Church is Christ's Bride - and I can't believe that Christ's Bride would be anything less than true love and grace.



We were on a weekend getaway in Vancouver, Canada, when my sister told me of her separation from her husband. I fought her on the issue immediately. I argued and cried and convinced myself that reconciliation was on its' way.

If you don't know my sister, Cori, she is exactly like my father. If you don't know my father, it may help to know that they are analytical thinkers. They exhaust all options, they think deeply and they are incredibly logical. What I didn't see then that I could understand later is that, by the time we were in Vancouver and approaching her 7th wedding anniversary, Cori had exhausted all options.

As it turns out, a different reconciliation came. One of mutual understanding & respect. A different kind of everlasting love, but still love, nonetheless. Though that didn't stop the tears or the heartbreak from coming, the relationship that Cori and Jeff have now actually appears to be quite beautiful and caring, hard for us to comprehend, but undeniably filled with a kind of love that only they can understand.

There should be no doubt that this is the most difficult thing my family has ever gone through. Something we didn't plan for or hope for or expect to endure. Through it all, there is one night that sticks out in my head like it happened yesterday. It was a Sunday evening and Cori, who was not yet living with us, burst into the front door and ran straight up to my room. I followed behind her, shut the door, and almost immediately had her head buried in my shoulder as she cried. A deep, painful, unforgiving cry that came from the pit of her stomach and the depth of her soul.

It was the first time I can remember seeing my sister cry in over 7 years.

They were tears of pain. Tears of frustration. Tears of regret, shame, guilt, and incredible amounts of fear. It was the most honest moment I've ever shared with anybody. We sat in my room - afraid, but holding on. Unsure, but hopeful. Hurting, but together. Looking back, it feels like that night is when she began breaking out of a shell that had been building around her for about 10 years - one that made her almost robotic and undoubtedly emotionless. Hearing her sobs, as hard as it was, made me feel like I was getting my sister back.

And that's exactly what happened. Cori came back to us. After nearly a decade, she slowly became herself again. No one person is to blame for the temporary loss of who she really is, but through a series of difficult times and difficult illnesses she endured, we lost her for a season. And, in that season, by more than just Cori...and more than just Jeff - decisions were made and vows were spoken and vows were broken and hearts were hurt and the hopes and expectations of many were fiercely shot down.

You can say that Cori jumped, if you want. But, either way, we fell. Our entire family fell. A long, terrifying, painful drop to the ground below. And many - so, so many of you were there, holding the net to catch us. But others weren't. Others that should have been. Others that are in a position where they should have a permanent grip on that net of grace & love, setting an example to others of how the whole thing works.
But when part of the net isn't being held, it hurt our fall. We were still being held up by the arms of many and, of course, by the arms of our Savior. But the net had been dropped in many crucial places.

I haven't been able to attend my church on a regular basis because I know that, right now, I wouldn't be receiving spiritual growth there. At this point, there has been so much pain; intentional or not - and I just don't understand why it happened like this. Admittedly, my heart would not be fully prepared or capable of receiving God’s Word there and so, instead, I am choosing to take some time away from my church…my home…to heal. I have visited other churches, I have done Sunday morning devotionals or time in the Word on my own, I have had Sunday morning dates with God…I have found other ways to worship, some conventional and some a little more creative.

With that being said, the fact that this church is my family has never been in question. You have loved me. You have supported me. You have raised me. I am so blessed by the family my church has given me - you know who you are and there is absolutely no doubt that those family ties go far outside of the walls of that building on Lambert Road.

Of course, there are details I haven’t shared that, quite honestly, don’t need to be shared. This is a broad explanation but I believe that explanations of this sort need only to be broad. I apologize wholeheartedly to those members of my family that have been without an explanation for so long. You have supported me so much more than I could have ever hoped for and you have loved me without condition. I hope you know that if you are not one I see outside of the church building on a regular basis, I miss you.

Also, please know that all that has happened has not led me away from loving and believing in the Church. Actually, it has ignited a passion in me to be someone that works to make the Church what Christ intended it to be. It has driven me to read more books on the topic, listen…really listen to the stories of people that have been hurt by the Church, and to pray, to cry out, on behalf of the Church, in the name of God’s Son and all He died for.

Thank you for supporting me in so many countless ways the past 3 years. Thank you for making the experiences I’ve had possible. It really was because of you and your obedience to give of your money, prayers, words of encouragement and love that I could be involved in the incredible ministries I have worked with. I’m so beyond grateful that no amount of words will ever be able to express how I feel. And if you’re still holding on to the net that my family & I are laying in, the net that we’re slowly picking ourselves up out of…we know how blessed we are to have you and we are eternally grateful.