Unseen Scars, Unspoken Grace: The Death of a Church, The Hope of Christ
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The raw nerve endings I feel so intensely during this dying process make sense, given all that we have shared, been, and done together.
By divine design, we were an organism, a living entity that moved in harmony, sensing each other’s needs with a shared, unseen spirit. This unity, however, did not shield us from the undercurrents of uncertainty and offense that often brew in a close-knit community. Like a sneaker wave, it comes on shore, snatching peace, unity, and understanding, and leaves in its wake heartache alongside the busted remnants that were once our lifeline.
Miscommunication, misunderstanding, and disagreement led to the inability to patch up the vessel meant to weather the storm. This sputtering, sinking—dare I say—drowning of something life-giving is severe and raw, akin to losing a limb. And losing a limb is never without cost—the phantom pain, I’m sure, will haunt me for years to come.
After all, we did life together.
We broke bread, gluten-free and regular, and allowed sacred words and others—not so sacred—to fall before us. We sat in spaces where questions lingered long, and answers weren’t always necessary.
Tables filled with the Holy Book and holy hands were surrounded on Sundays and several days in between. We battled the unseen here; words lifted, heads bowed, and hands raised toward the only One who could bear the burdens of our hearts.
Tissues and tears were abundant—oh, so many tears.
My eyes betrayed me more than once when I shared hard things; they leaked too often and made me feel weak.
But somehow, I found what I had longed for—unashamed permission to cry in front of others. At first, I apologized for my wet cheeks and fumbled words, but I finally found the strength to unload my hurts unapologetically.
We shared in the ministry of tears and held one another’s burdens while holding hands.
I lost my dad when I was meeting you.
You stepped into complicated spaces without fear or awkwardness. Your strength became mine when I had none of my own. You encouraged me when I could not take another step and reminded me to endure when endurance felt impossible.
“So this is what vulnerability looks like,” I whispered one cloudless morning after tears and embarrassment at my raw emotion. I was beginning to understand without fully knowing that something was shifting and changing inside me.
In unity, prayer, and pain, we shared hurts, triumphs, questions, and laughter—lots of laughter. We were learning how to allow another to enter sacred spaces that had been kept tightly shuttered for far too long.
For all of this and more, I’m in awe of you, Christian.
You taught me how to worship, I mean, really worship. You gave this former legalistic girl permission to lift her hands, even if only to my neck. You have shown me how to bow to a King I can not see with unabashed devotion, to give when it hurts, and to go where we don’t always want to. Because of you, I’ve witnessed sacrificial living, how to believe in a miracle, and what living in agape love looks like.
Just as a parent goes before a child, you’ve modeled what faith through works looks like. Through your actions, I’ve seen that the Christian life isn’t always comfortable and was never meant to be. You’ve shown me what it looks like to follow Jesus with abandon, whether in faraway countries or on local street corners.
You’re the best of them. I mean that.
You are soldiers in the trenches, unashamed warriors for a kingdom just beginning and old as time, and for the King, who is already here and yet returning.
I admire your love for Jesus and the love you’ve shown me. That will never change, although our seasons have. You have left a mark on my soul that will never be removed. I wouldn’t want it to be.
Why can’t we figure out how to live this Christian life together?
How do we bring back what we have lost and pick up pieces we can’t find? We know how to live this Christian life well; unfortunately, we have yet to figure out how to do it together. How can we be so in love with Him and forget to give grace to one another well?
