The Modern Nomads

One Family's Journey

Tag: church hurt

I Found My Voice

Last month, I successfully defended my Ph.D. dissertation at Dallas Baptist University. It was equal parts fun and nerve-racking. During my four years, I’ve gotten to know and become friends with my professors, making DBU one of the best places to pursue a doctoral degree. I’ve enjoyed having them actually care about what is going on in their students’ lives while also treating us like the professionals we are. I left the program changed and took a piece of the university’s DNA into my personal and professional life. I grew as a follower of Christ and as a leader.

During my defense, my chair asked me a final question:

“What did you learn about yourself during your time in the program?”

WOW! What a question! I knew something like that could be asked, so I spent much time processing it. However, what came out of my mouth was not at all what I had rehearsed. All of a sudden, standing before my colleagues and professors, tears began welling up in my eyes. (By the way, I hate crying. And I was even more appalled that I began misting IN FRONT of my professors AT my defense.) Then, what came out shocked me, maybe as much as it shocked those listening.

“I found my voice again.” 

This is a simple phrase, yet packed with so much history, hurt, and frustration. When I began the Ph.D program, I was struggling with what I had learned in seminary and what had been pushed on me at my former church about the roles of men and women in the church and home. (I learned a theology that supported extreme gender role separation where men have the “divine authority” to teach and lead while women have the “divine mandate” to support and submit.) At this point, I was beginning to dare ask myself whether or not these “divine” gender roles were as important to God as they appeared to be to man. 

After the Houston Chronicle broke the news indicating that since 1998, close to 400 SBC pastors/ministers abused over 700 victims, I began questioning my absolute commitment to the complementarian view of manhood and womanhood. How could the SBC protect these men who had promised to “lead and protect” their flock while using that trust to manipulate and abuse the most vulnerable? During 2019, I slowly began to wonder if the gender roles of men leading and women submitting had more to do with power than with actual biblical conviction. 

By the time I started the program, I was at a loss as to what to do. I knew my views on men and women in leadership were changing, but I did not know what to do with it. I felt like if I explored what I saw in scripture—Jesus including women in His ministry; Doctor Luke in Acts 2:17-18 indicating that both men and women could preach, teach, and lead; Romans 16 showing Paul serving alongside women as fellow ministry partners, church leaders, and apostles—that I would lose any influence I had in the denomination. Or worse, my husband would lose his job. (At that time, he was serving at a SBC church.) So, I grappled alone (with Chris) and tried to make sense of what I saw in scripture juxtaposed with what I saw in my denomination. 

However, what I experienced at DBU radically differed from what I experienced in other Baptist spaces. As my cohort slowly dwindled to ten men and me (the lone female), I discovered a comradeship I thought impossible. Instead of being “frightened” or suspicious of me, they treated me with dignity and respected me as a fellow scholar. During my 20 years of ministry, I learned to put up a wall between myself and male co-workers because I did not want to make them feel uncomfortable (by my presence) or threatened (once again, by my presence). However, I slowly learned that a wall was not needed with this group. We were all scholars who wanted to glorify God by doing the best research in our particular field, and this strange male-female suspicion was unnecessary. 

Over time, this group of scholars and professors helped me find my voice…again. Of course, I did not realize that was happening. But, with one simple question: “What did you learn about yourself during your time in the program?”… I discovered the answer. 

I learned that God has given me a unique voice that should not be silenced. I learned that humility in leadership does not equal silence on issues. I learned what it means to be “brothers and sisters” in Christ and not be afraid of each other. And, through it all, I experienced the freedom to formulate responses, engage in debate, and even disagree (sometimes explicitly) without being given a demeaning label. 

These past four years have been some of the most mentally grueling of my life, but they have also been some of the fullest. Finding my voice has strengthened my marriage, my life as a mom, and my friendships. For those who feel you have to get small to avoid offending, I want to encourage you to stop believing that lie. God created males and females, and He “blessed them.” (Gen 1:27-28)

God didn’t just bless men; He blessed them.

Many women need to step into that blessing and realize that God did not create you by mistake. He purposefully gave you your callings, giftings, and passions. If you are called to teach…then teach. If you are gifted to lead…then lead. If you have a passion to preach God’s Word…then preach. 

Once you hit a certain age, you wonder if you can grow and change. I can say with certainty that you can! Thank you to my cohort for including me in your fraternity, and thank you to my professors, turned friends, who helped me re-discover and find my voice. I pray that my first half will not define the second half of my ministry. Lord, may it be so!   

Side Note: If you are looking for a place where you will be celebrated instead of vilified, consider DBU. If you want to study at a university that requires you to think for yourself while also challenging you not to neglect Christ’s example, consider DBU. Finally, if you want to grow professionally, mentally, and spiritually, consider DBU. (For the record, I was not asked to write this post, nor does anyone at DBU “endorse” it. I just believe in what they are doing over on the Hill!)            

Unrealized Hope in 2024

Initially, I was going to write a Facebook post, but it may be too long. Therefore, I decided on another blog post. I have so many thoughts about 2023, but one overwhelming thought/feeling is: I AM SO GLAD IT IS OVER!! (If you want to know more about my 2023, read my previous post here.)

I know any of you would rather not re-live 2020; I feel that way about 2023. I am sneaking into 2024, praying that it does not know I am coming. 

This reality brings me to the actual point of the post.

Aren’t you thankful for new beginnings?

I can be fairly nostalgic, but if I dwell too much on the past or think too much about the future, I end up feeling anxious and depressed. So, today, I want us to think about the present as it winks towards the future.

Today is the last day of 2023 (PRAISE!), and tomorrow begins 2024. As I’ve thought about the ending of a challenging year and the beginning of a new year, a phrase continues to come into my mind: Unrealized Hope. Although I do not think you have to have a “word of the year,” I will embrace the tradition…even if it’s just this year.

Hope. What a fleeting word, which seems to leave as soon as you start to grasp it! Paul reminds us that “Hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” (Rom. 8:24-25) 

As 2024 begins, I am hoping for many things. 

First, I am hoping for a better year. I look back on 2023, and I am not the same person. I have changed many thoughts, convictions, and understandings of issues I once (loudly) professed. However, I grasped more tightly to Christ and saw His heart in a deeper, more profound way. I pray that the change results in a better year because I went through the crushing, survived, and now feel like I can begin to live out of the person God is making. I do not yet see what God is doing, but I continue to hope in the promise that “He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 1:6)

Secondly, I am hoping for renewed passion. This year was a year of survival. Thankfully, my doctoral work kept my mind busy and my creative juices flowing.  However, I hope to have a renewed passion for other things. 

  • I love lunches with friends but didn’t take many in 2023. 
  • I love sitting and writing out blog posts, but in 2023, I didn’t dare write too many personal feelings. 
  • I love being with friends, but in 2023, I didn’t have enough emotional energy for friends. 
  • And…maybe most importantly…I want a renewed passion for Christ’s bride, the Church. Church has been a difficult thing for me this year. However, I have tried to stay engaged…at least bodily. In 2024, I hope to engage emotionally as well. I still have alot of issues to work out about the church (especially the American church). Still, as I work them out, I hope God will renew my passion for His people. 

Lastly, I hope to finish my Ph.D. and move on to the next thing (whatever that thing is). This hope is more of a practical hope, but it is something I have yet to realize. I started this journey in 2019, and it has been a VERY long road. However, I see a glimpse of light at the end of this long tunnel. My family needs me to be done, and I need me to be done. I enjoyed almost every minute of this journey and saw things in myself that I did not know existed. I learned that even at 45, I can do hard things. I look forward, with unrealized hope, to how God will use this degree for His glory. 

Unrealized Hope. The fact that I am at the place of hoping again is a testament to God’s redemptive, healing work. I still have a ways to go, but I can hope again. I do not see the world as a place from where I want to run and hide. Instead, I want to tiptoe back into it, knowing there could be landmines, and enjoy it. 

In a few short hours, 2024 will finally arrive. I don’t know about you, but I am thankful to see its arrival.

What Unrealized Hope do you have for 2024?  

 

The Year That Was

The year that was… So many statements can come after this introduction. The year that was difficult. The year that was heartbreaking. The year that was confusing. The year that was unexplainable. The year that was eye-opening. The year that was the first glance of freedom. The year that was…

This week is the anniversary of one of my life’s most difficult professional and personal events. A year ago, my husband called to tell me that a ministry partner/friend/family we had served alongside for over a decade was fired. He did nothing wrong. He did not embezzle money, cheat on his wife, or abuse his flock. However, he was fired without warning and without cause. This decision crushed us, and it was clear that the new leadership wanted no accountability. Once we began asking questions, we became the target. Two weeks after our friend’s firing, my husband resigned/was forced out. After fourteen years of serving a congregation we loved, we left. We left devastated, confused, hurt, and broken.

I have often said, “If we can just get to a year, then I think we can make it.” And…we made it.

Initially, I wanted to write a post highlighting only the good and beautiful things the Lord brought into our lives this year. However, the more I thought about the year, I realized that talking only about the blessings of this year would discount the lessons the Father taught me. The lessons came out of the crushing that occurred. I cannot share the good without first acknowledging the devastation. Our American Christianity wants people to put on fake smiles and act like they have it all together. I know this role well and received an Academy Award for it. But, in glossing over the hurt, people do not get to see our God at work.

Psalm 34:18 says, “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” In my forty-plus years, I have experienced some dark days. However, this year was different. Never before had I experienced a crushing of my spirit. The word “crushed” means to be “ground into powder or dust.” Think about that analogy for a moment. When an individual takes an object and grinds it into dust, they exert so much pressure on the thing that it nearly dissolves. The object is still present, but it has changed forms. It has no power. It has no recognizable form. It seems useless.

However, in that very state of weakness and apparent uselessness, God shows up. Sometimes, seeing Him is difficult (if not almost impossible). But He is present. Not only is He present, but He is near, meaning right beside me.

And…He saves. I love the meaning of this word: saves. It means that God delivers, keeps, helps, rescues, avenges, and sets free. This past year has been a year of being set free. I spent so many years trying to fit myself in a man-made box that I had become useless. I was not free to do the ministry God called me to do because I was so busy trying to win the approval of men and not God (Gal. 1:10).

Although I will never fully understand why God allowed this crushing, I see Him taking the dust and forming it into something different. I am not the person I was a year ago… PRAISE GOD! I have more compassion for hurting people, especially those who experience church hurt. I understand what it feels like to question your faith and wonder if all of it is just a farce. I empathize with those who cannot darken the doors of a church or those who slip in unnoticed and then slip out unnoticed. I know what it is like to look at a church staff (especially a pastor) and question his/her motives. I have been the one who wants to throw up my hands and walk away from all of it. In fact, I was almost that person.

But… “To whom shall I go? Jesus has the words of eternal life, and I have believed, and have come to know, that He is the Holy One of God” (John 6:68-69). Peter’s confession has become my confession. Countless times this year, I have heard (in my spirit) Jesus asking, “You do not want to leave too, do you?” And…so many times, I wanted to say, “YES! I’m done!” However, regardless of the hurt, devastation, confusion, and crushing caused by man, I do not know where I would go.

Because the biggest blessing and lesson of this year is… I found JESUS.

Not a white evangelical form of Jesus. Not a Sunday morning/Wednesday night form of Jesus. Not even a Christmas and Easter form of Jesus. Just Jesus.

The Savior who saved me at 19 years old. The Jesus who called me into ministry a short time afterward. The Jesus I saw overseas in the faces of people who heard His name for the first time. The Jesus who my children said talked to them when they were scared. The Jesus who was present in those dark days where I did not know if my heart would make it. The Jesus who never turned away from my questions or pleas for justice. The Jesus who could handle my hurt and anger and sat with me as I raged at Him. Jesus…He is the One I found this year.

I do not know what this next year holds for me and my family, and I am learning that I really do not want to know. My selfish prayer is that this year God will begin to restore the years the locusts have devastated (Joel 2:25-27). However, regardless of what comes, “I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day” (2 Tim. 1:12).

The year that was… I am thankful for the “was” moments/events in my life! This year was a difficult year, but, Praise God, it is not the end of my story. Somehow, I think it’s just the beginning.

A Journey Through Grief

In my twenty-plus years of ministry, the last few months have proved the most difficult. The story is familiar, but I thought (naively) I could avoid it. A new, young pastor comes on staff, and months later, the staff members who have served, loved, and carried the church are gone. (Some of you know this crushing reality and still have scars to show for it.) Unless you’ve experienced something similar to this situation, it’s a difficult feeling to explain. 

If you’ve been in ministry for any length, you know that how you view ministry often differs from how many in the pews view it. I’ve discovered that church members wrongly assume that ministers consider them “the job.” However, you can’t walk through the valley with a church and not come to love them deeply. Why be in ministry if you can keep your heart separate from your people? Therefore, when a minister’s family is removed from their church, there is only one way to describe it…crushing loss coupled with intense grief. 

Grief…I’ve learned so much about this feeling that I didn’t realize before this point in my life. I’ve experienced loss, which culminated in grief. However, I’ve not experienced grief (to this level) because of others’ actions. (Typing that sentence causes me to realize how “lucky/blessed/fortunate” I’ve been.) So…what have I learned?

First, there are stages to grief, which are not linear. Of course, I’ve known about the grief stages for a long time (I did take some psychology classes), but I have not lived through the stages and then cycled back through them. 

As a refresher, here are the stages of grief:

  1. Denial
  2. Anger
  3. Bargaining
  4. Depression
  5. Acceptance

A few weeks ago, I asked my counselor if I was correctly experiencing the stages of grief. I’ve always seen them as going from point A to point B. However, I realized I kept cycling: anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, and then back to anger. She said something that revolutionized the way I view grief. She said, “Amanda, you know that grief is not linear, right?” Ummm…no, I did not.  If you, like me, struggle to understand at what stage of grief you are experiencing, hear me say: Grief is not linear. 

For some reason, this reality is so freeing for me. It’s OK to go from acceptance and back to denial and anger. It’s OK to feel like you’ll make it on Monday and then struggle on Tuesday. No two people experience or process grief the same. God is way too creative for that. So, don’t beat yourself up. 

However, let’s also keep moving. I realize that the anger and depression stage is tempting to “sit” in and just veg there. But I also know it’s not the healthiest place to stop. When I stop and pull up a chair to anger and depression, I lose myself. I forget about joy, hope, forgiveness, and love. I forget that there is a God who will help me. So…I know I can’t stay there. I must keep moving.

Secondly, I do not have to be ashamed of my grief or explain it away. I’ve discovered that Americans, including Christians, are uncomfortable with grief. Of course, we send flowers, a meal, and even offer to run errands for those experiencing a loss. However, we do not know how to sit with someone in their grief. 

Our minds begin to race: What should I say? How should I help? How can I get them “over” it? Instead of looking for answers, those in grief often want someone just to be there. Be present and lament with them. Realize that you probably do not have THE answer, but instead, you can offer them an ear to listen, a hug, or just silence. 

Those experiencing loss inherently know that life will get better, and they will laugh again…eventually. But, in the meantime, allow them the opportunity to grieve and not be ashamed of their grief. In Romans 12:15, Paul reminds us: “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Don’t rush people through their grief, but allow them the time to journey through their grief. 

Finally, grief reminds me that I am human and live in a fallen world. In January, our new church’s pastor began a sermon series titled “Back to the Beginning.” He’s slowly preached through Genesis 1-3, highlighting the highs and lows of those chapters. Within three chapters, we go from a void and formless world to a perfect world with perfect communion between God and humanity and then to darkness, sin, and death. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions! 

As he preached through the curses in Genesis 3:14-23, I realized (again) just how devastating sin is to humanity. Sin breaks our relationship with God, each other, and the world. Once again, Paul reminds us: We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” (Romans 8:22-25)    

There is so much to unpack in those verses, but the simple truth is that sin marred everything. We grieve and struggle through deep hurt because we live in a fallen world, among fallen people, and with a fallen nature. No one (including me) is free from the effects of sin or from being the one who sins. 

Sin marred everything, BUT there is hope! HOPE… For those experiencing grief, hope is what (and Who) wakes us up every morning. Hope is what reminds us that healing is coming. Hope helps us endure the long nights and the distracted days. Hope, especially unseen Hope, keeps us going when we want to give up. Hope tells us that life will not always be like this because there will come a time when He will right every wrong. Hope…that is what I am clinging to in my grief.

I know I still have a way to go before I get out of my grief cycle, but I also know that I am not walking this road alone. I don’t have any “cute/pithy” coffee mug lessons, but I do have Hope. I have a Savior who has never once left me to grieve alone. He’s heard my frustrations and cries for justice, and He’s been there through all of it. He’s not afraid of my grief. He’s not afraid of my anger. He’s not afraid of my hurt. He’s simply not afraid. Instead, He’s present…silently, patiently, unwaveringly present.

My friend, I don’t know what is grieving your heart today. But, I would encourage you to turn towards Hope. Don’t shut out His comfort and presence. He understands and can handle whatever stage you are currently experiencing. Just don’t give up on Him because He hasn’t given up on you. I pray that you and I will experience Hope as we journey through grief.        

 

A Different Kind of Christmas Season

For the first time in my adult life, I find myself churchless. I didn’t realize this until I was at a conference, and they asked me about my church home. I didn’t have an answer. What a strange and lonely feeling!

The last two months have been some of the hardest in ministry. Three months ago, Chris and I were extremely excited about where we were in life and college ministry. We experienced the biggest, number-wise, freshman attendees we’ve ever had. Our church had a young, new pastor whom we were eager to work with. COVID was part of the past. And we were excited about the future of our church and ministry.

Then, everything changed.

Due to details, I will not share (it’s not the point of this post), Chris resigned in November. It’s been two months of conflicting emotions: anger/revelation, despair/hope, bondage/freedom, and grief/joy. The strangest emotion is realizing that, for the first time, we are not married to a church calendar. Normally, December is full of parties and church events, all intertwined with carving out time for our family.

However, not this year.

This year our calendar is clear. We are not obligated to attend meetings, events, church services, or parties. It is strange to look at our calendar and see white space. But…isn’t that how it should be every year? The American Christmas season has turned into one of the busiest times of the year. We have to buy for this person, bake this cake, decorate this cookie, go to this event, and with the leftovers, we celebrate the Savior. Sadly, the church is rarely different from the world. In the past, Chris and I felt compelled to make sure we helped others have a “good Christmas,” and we forgot to wonder and savor the advent of Christ.

This year is a different kind of Christmas season.

I still feel the tension of thinking I should be busy doing and making something, going somewhere, and organizing events. However, God is teaching me (though it feels more like forcing me) to be still. I do not have to have every weekend filled with something to “help” me celebrate Christ’s birth. It’s no longer my responsibility to organize activities to point others to Christ’s advent. It’s not my responsibility to…

Instead, God has provided me with a season of rest. A season of waiting. A season of hope. A season of wonder. He’s provided me with a different kind of Christmas season. It’s a season of Advent where I anticipate celebrating the birth of my Savior and looking to the future of His second coming.

I do not know what our life will look like a year from now. We may be back on church staff, or we may be doing something completely different. But, in the meantime, I will wait…and rest. I will take advantage of this Christmas season and regain the wonder of waiting for Christ’s birth.

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