I was one of those kids who always believed there was a God. As young as 6 years old, I remember drawing pictures of what I believed Heaven to look like. I had never read a Bible or been to church that I can remember, but somehow, God was real to me.
Eventually, my mom took me to church so I’d stop bugging her about it. We ended up in a church that I lived with an amazing children’s pastor and staff who were able to make unlovable, imperfect me feel loved.
Then he moved and we found a different church. I was sexually abused by a children’s leader in that church, so I went back to my old church.
In the 3 years or so that I had been gone, that church changed.
Instead of being a place where God loved me for me and Jesus died to forgive my sins along with everyone else’s, it was a place where you had to dress right and speak right in order for God to love you.
You had to stop and think “What Would Jesus Do?” Before making any decision. (We even had keychains, necklaces and shirts emblazoned with WWJD to remind us.
At that church, I was unclean and unworthy because I had sex before I was married. I needed to be extra good so Good could love me.
The pastors, leaders and “good” Christian’s were perfect and could pick out those that God could love and those He wouldn’t love.
Luckily, I was friends with a couple that truly knew God’s love. They knew that God loves us as we are, but loves us too much to leave us that way.
When the person I was married to at that time was arrested for a detestable crime against children, the pastor asked me not to return to church. It was the ultimate betrayal at a time when I needed support.
My friends supported me, my church did not.
During this period in my life I learned so much about God and His love for people.
Even though I was abused and betrayed by church leaders, I wouldn’t walk away from the Lord.
I maintained my faith through the dark times and eventually the fog lifted and the sun shined through.
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