At the time, deciding to leave felt like the most agonizing part of the whole ordeal. In hindsight, a few years of prayer journals were filled with distressing agony over desiring direction and reconciliation. So much turmoil and emotional pain all the time. But we were constantly told that was to be expected. Hard was good. Hard truths. And iron sharpening iron. But in reality, We were all enduring death by a thousand paper-cuts. In reality, it was spiritual abuse. In July of 2022, I sat in a lawn chair in California. It felt like a million miles from home. We had been traveling the US, and hadn’t been home in weeks. I sat there, eating my bowl of chili. As wonderful as the trip has been, I started to miss home. In my reflections. I counted my blessings. Home was good. Except one thing, I had a sense of dread when I thought about church. My chest would go tight. And my body felt shaky. I craved Jesus. I craved worship. I craved devotion. Being in God’s creation,...
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