Sadly Resting

*** Originally written 4/21/23

I'm a fairly private person. I love to pray for others and help others but I often omit my own struggles and needs which creates a one-way relationship with many people who attempt to to befriend me. I've become a professional at handling things on-my-own, and not "bothering others" with my problems or disappointments.

I encountered a situation today in which I have been debating: Do I write about it? Or do I keep it to myself?

I decided to write about it below. If I offend you, be offended. Since this is my blog, I am going to write regardless of who I offend.

I stepped out of my comfort zone two months ago and applied for a two-year cohort at the Transforming Community with Ruth Haley Barton in Illinois. I wouldn't move to Illinois, but would travel there eight times over the course of the two years, experiencing and learning about spiritual practices to better stay connected to Jesus. 

Of all the subjects on my bookshelf, spiritual formation is one that is near and dear to my heart. I've always wanted to spend more time developing the skills to help people connect with God, experience the presence of Jesus and listen to the voice of the Spirit. Some of my favorite writers are Dallas Willard, Henri Nouwen, Richard Rohr, Ruth Haley Barton, Robert Mulholland, Adele Calhoun, and Peter Scazzero. I have some favorite theologians too, but the names above are writers in whose books I tend to read multiple times because they're not only informational, they're also transformational. 

The program was going to cost a bit more money that I was comfortable about so I began thinking about ways to raise money. I thought a super-fun way to raise some extra funds would be to have a garden sale with all the proceeds going toward my spiritual formation experience. 

My son-in-laws mother gave me a huge collection of succulent cuttings. My mother-in-law gave me some pretty pots, my daughter and son-in-law kept my plants alive while I've been traveling, I divided perennials, and planted vegetable seeds into 6-packs - I literally planted seeds in the hope of offsetting the cost of my next adventure.

My application was received in mid-March and then the wait began to see if I would be chosen.

I wrestled for the definition of "chosen" and tried my best to not get too hopeful. 

The trick was that in order for me to have a garden sale, I needed to get planting before I heard if I was accepted into the program or not. I got to work and planting and dividing. 

I tried to keep my emotions in check.

I tried to not get my hopes up.

The more my plants grew, the more my hope grew.

Today I received word that I was not accepted. 

Was it because my title is one of "Children's Pastor" and not a "Lead Pastor?" No.

Was it because I'm too old or too young? No.

Was it because the program is too full? No.

Oddly enough, it is because I am a woman.

I have to be honest - I'm really struggling with this. 

From my perspective, men have the world at their fingertips. Anything and everything is offered to them. 

Want to be a high executive - go for it. 

Want to be a Lead Pastor of a church - go for it. 

Want to lead a missionary trip to a country oversees - go for it.

I didn't get in because they want to make space for more men to be able to attend. 

Logically - I understand. 

Spiritually - it's a low jab for a woman who has been told her ENTIRE LIFE that I am not enough, not the 'right' gender - and now it continues. 

I get it. Maintaining a male/female balance is important. But really? 

I would have rather my rejection was due to anything else but gender. 

(I did contact the Transforming Center and fought for myself - which I don't typically do - and was allowed to participate.)

Reflective Ramblings about Abuse & Power

** Written 4/21/25 but too scared to publish until today.

Yesterday was Easter Sunday and it was my first time to preach the Resurrection story - TO ADULTS! 

I didn't take this lightly.

I have been silenced enough times in my ministry to know the gift to preach on this special day!

I am, and will probably always be, recovering from emotional and psychological abuse at the hands of church leaders and power structures. For 13-years I worked in a church culture that oppressed voices, suppressed questions, and gave full-power to the 'man-at-the-top.' My abuse was never sexual, but because it was not sexual I did not classify it as abuse. My experiences, though shared more often by women on staff, also happened to men so it wasn't necessarily a male-female thing either. It was a power-thing. A power THAT SHOULD NOT be a characteristic of the Church!

I look back now and recognize that my love for the Church hindered my ability to recognize abusive structures and also inhibited me from being honest about my experiences. It kept me from calling people out for their actions and words. I had been gaslit for so long, I completely believed that everything was my fault.

Here are some reflections to aid my own healing as well as help others recognize signs that they may not be in a safe and healthy church environment. The good work of Sunday does not cancel mid-week abuse. I remember loving my Sunday ministry, everything from setting up to praying with people, I loved Sundays and I loved the people! Then the work-week would begin and my skin crawled and heart raced. This was not a healthy culture.

When I left, I chose to quietly slip away. I looked at the projectile of the church and recognized we were on the verge of a construction project which would attract attention and no doubt bring new growth. Moving into a permanent home would be a season of excitement and looking toward a new future. I knew the new church building could cast a shadow over my departure so I could slip away without hurting the church's future or reputation. 

Seven years later, I think back and am horrified at my accommodating posture which so intertwined church-abuse and God's Mission-in-the-world that I chose to protect an abusive structure rather than confront it. I chose to slip away silently rather than raise my voice. I wonder how many others have been oppressed in this place under the banner of love.

But that's me TODAY being retrospective. 

Then I remember Connie in 2018, seven-years-ago, and I become less horrified and more sad. 

I remember my psychological, emotional, and physical health at that juncture in my life and remember I hardly had a voice left to use.

• I remember I was stuttering and would suddenly be unable to form sentences, especially under pressure and especially in certain people's presence. 
• I remember that my body kept breaking out in shingles. 
• I remember that I was using sticky notes everywhere because my brain was not working.
• I remember that my voice was literally quaking and growing quieter. 
• I remember feeling 'on-guard' at all times - like at any moment I would be attacked; ready to fight or flight at the drop of a hat.
• I remember I would physically shake and my heart would race when I parked my car, even before entering the office. 
• I remember I would pretend there was a waterfall between myself and my office doorway that would protect me.
• I remember I kept a baseball mitt on my desk to remind me to catch words that came in so I could consider the words before I allowed them to enter my heart.
• I remember the loneliness of knowing I could not talk to anyone about what I was experiencing except my husband. (If I wanted to talk, I need to follow Matthew 18 guidelines of first confronting my boss which, of course, would spiral me into a panic).

No one asked why I was leaving. I was given no exit interview. People figured it was my choice to leave; I was the one 'grasping' for another opportunity so the decision was mine.

No one knew anything and no one wanted to know anything. Best to continue to charades, the system of oppression, 'for the glory of God.'

As I've been reading the accusations against Rick Joiner, I keep revisiting myself in 2018 wondering what else I could have done? What can a victim do? How does this ever change?

The frustrating reality is that when most people recognize the abuse and find courage to finally leave, we leave not just our jobs, but we also loose our communities. I read a quote from Danielle Strickland this morning that, honestly, is more frustrating than comforting:

"When you have to choose between allegiance to a powerful leader/friend or supporting a victim of abuse...you choose the victim. Every. Time."

That sounds nice but the reality is no one does this. AND if they do, they live a life of isolation and rejection. The Crowd of the Powerful is so large, the average person does not dare to mount an assault knowing the pathetic attempt will 100% fail and they will experience an even greater separation. To side with the victim means you will lose your friends, lose your community, and lose your reputation. AND the power-leader you leave will actually be given MORE power on your exit because he will amass a swell of sympathy from his community because of the 'meanness' (even though it was in silence!) of your departure. This structure is so incredibly toxic and disgusting. 

A few of my friends left when I left my church seven years ago. They chose to side with the victim (as Danielle would say). But our decisions left us outside community. 

People who "side" with the victim, really do feel for them and may even leave for a while, but our deep desire for community pulls people back in and we choose to ignore the abuse and power-structure for the sake of belonging.

Can Church ever be a place of belonging without the power-structure? 

As fickle people during Passion Week, the Crowd chose an insurrectionist and murderer over Jesus. The people of Israel wanted a king so they could be just like all the surrounding nations. Why does human nature chose power and oppression? Do we really think that is the only way?

Lord, hear my prayer. 

There has got to be another way...