I wrote this blog a year ago, thinking I was ready to return to blogging. But as the days passed, the desire to open up in vulnerability and be subject to judgment didn’t sound appealing. The passion and adrenaline I get by stringing together words have always firmly gripped me. Equally, the hope of my sentences helping someone else has always been highly regarded. However, the depth of pain I experienced in the last few years feels a bit like an open wound. The sensitivity and awareness of my unhealed heart have stopped me from creating so much, especially in this way, writing. But as I have learned to trust God repeatedly, He is transforming me to trust myself again, too. He never changed; I did, and I do. Thank you for being with me as I grab hold of the transformative power of his hands guiding mine and as I rediscover myself, my faith, and the love of life.
Today is Sunday. The actual date doesn’t matter; it is Sunday. Sunday for us used to mean waking up early, showering, makeup, teeth brushed, and rushing out the door by 8 A.M. Let’s be honest, add some yelling in there, too. Sundays were not rest. They were pretending, and they were empty bellies begging to be full. Sundays were a cover-up; maybe, this time, I can perform my way through. Brush our hair, put on a smile, and something magical will happen. However, more often than not, nothing magical happened at all. What happened was a missed nap time, spilled coffee, and a late lunch. I hear the church people screaming- that’s not why you attend church! And to that, I would say you are right. But somewhere between religion and church hurt, the love for church faded, and the sleeping in, slow, real rest, PJs all day authentic selves became a better alternative. I don’t hate the church, and I don’t even hate the people in the church who have hurt me. I got tired of the pretending. I got tired of keeping up. I got tired of surface-level conversations. I got tired of staying the same. Two years ago, I left two things. My marriage and the church. They were so intertwined it felt best to abandon them simultaneously. Hear me when I say I left The Church, not my faith. My faith is still remarkably intact, and it is more vital than it’s ever been. I love the Lord more deeply, authentically, truly, and passionately than ever. I have always had church, but I have not always had faith. I have not always loved the Lord. At times, it felt like the more I went to church, the less I knew Him. This realization made me sad, and I am sure it made Him sad, too. I needed time and space from the organization that ripped me apart. One that chewed me up and spit me out, demanding I act like nothing happened. I took two and a half years off.
About halfway through, I felt a tug, not a tug for myself to get back into church but for my son. His young heart was yearning for the Father. How dare I stand in between a child and their Heavenly Father. So we hopped around, searching for a place to call home again. My heart was soft but on alert. I wasn’t going to let us get hurt again. I had maybe moments but never felt the true conviction of the Lord guiding us anywhere specifically. Another year passed, and that same ping in my spirit was there, but it was stronger. It was an ache, a desire for community, to be known, and to know others in the body of Christ. It’s funny when God brings you back to a familiar place. Seven years ago, I walked into a church building to drop Jayden off and begin “play school.” He thrived. He learned about Jesus, how to pray, and how to count and say the ABCs. It was there his mind was challenged and where his faith grew. I had no idea God would use this church to do the same for me.
I had heard a new South African pastor would take over the church; I admit I was intrigued. We missed his first Sunday, and I had been scrolling on IG that week. I was scoping them out. I wanted to understand what he and his wife were like. I stumbled across a recent video of his wife. She was sitting in her car, ready to drive off, except on the wrong side of the vehicle! It was oddly hilarious, and I laughed with her. It would be strange to live your entire life one way and then move somewhere and everything be different, opposite, and hard to adjust to. While laughing, I suddenly felt the rush of the Holy Spirit, and I began to cry, to weep. I knew what the Lord was saying. This was my pastor. This would be our church.
I'd like you to fast-forward to this particular Sunday. Jay had asked not to go. I almost gave in, but I knew in my heart we needed to be there. We were going alone without the comfort of our friend's faces, and I knew God had something for us. Worship is always great, but it was beautifully different this morning. I felt the Holy Spirit simultaneously with the piano starting the first song. He was speaking to me. I felt Him tell me I was shedding a layer. That old layer fell off of me during worship. The sermon was about getting in the boat and being sold out to Jesus. Then worship started again in the end. I love that they do this.
The first chord was played, and I looked down at my son and smiled. They were beginning to play his favorite song. I was lost in the moment. Tears rushed down my face, and my hands lifted; I looked down to see my boy's hands lifted as well. My mama's heart exploded in thankfulness and so much joy. No one knew the painful times we’ve had in church. No one knew the last time he lifted his hands in church was years ago. No one knew the tears we’ve both cried healing from church people who have hurt us. No one knew- except one. He knew. He knew the weight of how much we needed this. So, I took a deep breath of gratefulness to the God who knows. Did it immediately take all the hurt, pain, and suffering away? No, but it gave our hearts a dose of hope, belief, and faith that was long overdue. I am still in awe of how God does this for us, and I wonder what he will do next.
Love always,
Jaimee
Song Recommendations:
Oceans- Hillsong
