A Message to Those Who Have Been Hurt by the Church

pink slower bud

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

Dear friends,
I’m sorry for the Christians who didn’t love you,
For the Christians who followed a Jesus who
Didn’t eat with sinners
Or shunned the ones who didn’t have it all together.

I’m sorry for the Christians
Who created an atmosphere of fear
Where you had to wear a mask or try to be someone you weren’t,
When deep inside,
You were filled with hurt.

I’m sorry for the Christians
Who didn’t know what grace was,
Who thought they had to convince you to join their side
With hate when the truth is only found in love.

I’m so sorry you were hurt
By those Christians–
those imperfect persons
Who failed to show you who God really is.

Dear friends,
I hope you find who Jesus really is;
A person who lavishes love on you
No matter what you did–
A love so genuine and beautiful that it doesn’t make sense.

I hope you discover that a life with Him
Is like living in an atmosphere of grace,
Where you don’t have to pretend to be anything but who you really are;
And when you show Him your hurt,
He can heal your scars.

I hope you rejoice
In the grace He pours out on you,
And find that the truth only comes
When you turn from the hate and walk in His love.

Dear friend,
I hope you find safety in God’s embrace,
And find the courage to embrace
Every imperfect person,
Including myself–
And that, together, we can learn to show the world
Who God really is.


“This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” – 1 John 4:9-11



A Dream, a Hope, or Reality?

I’m a dreamer. My dreams mount higher than the clouds and grip on me so hard I can’t  yank loose if I tried. I hope till I run out of hope, I get a running start till the only way up the hill is back at the bottom.

Dreams keep me alive, they give me the sense I have a reason to live. I’m here for a reason–that’s what I say to myself when I’m stuck in a pit, when I need to pull myself out of the mess I got into. But who am I to hope for what I cannot see and can never seem to understand? What are dreams for anyway?

Too often dreamers and doubters go hand in hand. The hope of God, of a Savior, of a Spirit–fantasies so out-of-reach at times, and yet so close and precious at others. Who am I to decide what goes on beyond my mind? Continue reading