Before the year even started, I was knocked off-kilter by an announcement from my pastor of 20+ years, that he felt led to leave our church in order to help out at his late father-in-law's church. Shortly afterward, he called me into his office to ask if I was willing to step into a youth leader role. I'd always wanted to be a youth pastor and even though I'd have to do it without him there, it was an answer to a calling that was placed in my heart as a teenager.
I was so thankful for the time I had with those teens, despite the ups and downs that were happening at the church itself. A new pastor was selected, and I felt the process was hurried (even though we'd been almost 8 months without a pastor). We were given only one option and I thought this didn't seem very fair to the church, but I hoped for the best.
Without going into detail, after meeting the senior pastor and spending some time talking with him, my husband and I made the very painful decision to leave the only church I'd ever known. There were so many youth members there that I hated leaving, and sweet older ladies who had poured into my life over the years. The decision seemed to be hasty to some and brought on by a specific incident, but I had been praying and agonizing about it for quite some time.
We were offered everything I could have ever wanted. I could have stayed on as the youth pastor, only with my husband by my side and earning an additional paycheck. I have always thought he'd be an amazing youth pastor. I could have stayed with people (the older ladies) who I knew loved and prayed for me. I could have continued to help shepherd some AMAZING youth members, who seriously made me feel blessed to have the job I had. And yet it still felt wrong.
My husband and I fervently prayed and decided to step down from our positions, and out of the church. We did it for our family, and because we believed that was what we had to do. We felt that we had to flee. There are still incredible people at that church, and perhaps our reservations were only because God needed to cause us to move on from somewhere that I admittedly never thought I would leave.
Regardless, we left, and I found myself broken and crushed, visiting a church I never thought I'd visit, afraid that everyone could read the pain on my face and hoping against hope that no one would ask me what was wrong. I just couldn't talk about it. It was too raw, and my soul felt exposed for all to see. I didn't even want to let my children into Sunday School that day, but I let my daughters go and took my youngest with me. He was, for lack of a better term, my human shield. Perhaps people would be too fixated on his adorable antics to take too long a look at his mother.
Part of me (OK, a lot of me) was really resistant to the idea of this new church. But after the service that morning, I felt a little better. I never would have admitted it at the time, but the pastor seemed like a really relatable person. He was very down-to-earth but also spoke the Word without apology. He was sensitive to needs but also didn't gloss over the hard truth. I started to feel a pull toward this church, this body of believers that took forever to greet each other, just like our old church used to. There were Bible studies and, most importantly to me at that time, a program for children to go to and learn more of the Word.
I was concerned about our family, and a big part of the reason we left was for our kids. This place... it felt safe. There were so many people who were willing to invest in the children, and that was very encouraging to me. There was no sense that some were more valuable to others, no favoritism. Just a pure love, like the love of a family.
Since the time we made the decision to leave our old church, I have questioned myself a million times. I have thought of every awful, terrible scenario that could possibly happen. I have wondered if it was the Lord leading us or if it was just my flesh or being too hard on someone I didn't quite know. These are things I have struggled with because second-guessing myself is just what I do.
But I know now. Maybe I didn't go about it exactly as I should have, but God used the way I left, too. And He brought me to the church I'm at right now. We needed to be here. This is our new home.
I still miss some of the people from the church we used to go to. We keep in contact because they are wonderful, beautiful souls and I don't want to lose them if I don't have to. But for whatever reason, God has us here.
And that's OK too.
I was so thankful for the time I had with those teens, despite the ups and downs that were happening at the church itself. A new pastor was selected, and I felt the process was hurried (even though we'd been almost 8 months without a pastor). We were given only one option and I thought this didn't seem very fair to the church, but I hoped for the best.
Without going into detail, after meeting the senior pastor and spending some time talking with him, my husband and I made the very painful decision to leave the only church I'd ever known. There were so many youth members there that I hated leaving, and sweet older ladies who had poured into my life over the years. The decision seemed to be hasty to some and brought on by a specific incident, but I had been praying and agonizing about it for quite some time.
We were offered everything I could have ever wanted. I could have stayed on as the youth pastor, only with my husband by my side and earning an additional paycheck. I have always thought he'd be an amazing youth pastor. I could have stayed with people (the older ladies) who I knew loved and prayed for me. I could have continued to help shepherd some AMAZING youth members, who seriously made me feel blessed to have the job I had. And yet it still felt wrong.
My husband and I fervently prayed and decided to step down from our positions, and out of the church. We did it for our family, and because we believed that was what we had to do. We felt that we had to flee. There are still incredible people at that church, and perhaps our reservations were only because God needed to cause us to move on from somewhere that I admittedly never thought I would leave.
Regardless, we left, and I found myself broken and crushed, visiting a church I never thought I'd visit, afraid that everyone could read the pain on my face and hoping against hope that no one would ask me what was wrong. I just couldn't talk about it. It was too raw, and my soul felt exposed for all to see. I didn't even want to let my children into Sunday School that day, but I let my daughters go and took my youngest with me. He was, for lack of a better term, my human shield. Perhaps people would be too fixated on his adorable antics to take too long a look at his mother.
Part of me (OK, a lot of me) was really resistant to the idea of this new church. But after the service that morning, I felt a little better. I never would have admitted it at the time, but the pastor seemed like a really relatable person. He was very down-to-earth but also spoke the Word without apology. He was sensitive to needs but also didn't gloss over the hard truth. I started to feel a pull toward this church, this body of believers that took forever to greet each other, just like our old church used to. There were Bible studies and, most importantly to me at that time, a program for children to go to and learn more of the Word.
I was concerned about our family, and a big part of the reason we left was for our kids. This place... it felt safe. There were so many people who were willing to invest in the children, and that was very encouraging to me. There was no sense that some were more valuable to others, no favoritism. Just a pure love, like the love of a family.
Since the time we made the decision to leave our old church, I have questioned myself a million times. I have thought of every awful, terrible scenario that could possibly happen. I have wondered if it was the Lord leading us or if it was just my flesh or being too hard on someone I didn't quite know. These are things I have struggled with because second-guessing myself is just what I do.
But I know now. Maybe I didn't go about it exactly as I should have, but God used the way I left, too. And He brought me to the church I'm at right now. We needed to be here. This is our new home.
I still miss some of the people from the church we used to go to. We keep in contact because they are wonderful, beautiful souls and I don't want to lose them if I don't have to. But for whatever reason, God has us here.
And that's OK too.
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