Gracefully Broken: From "Church Hurt" to Radical Forgiveness Ch. 2

Chapter Two: Where to Now?

Why? Why was she, the pastor's daughter, no longer "allowed" to pick us up for church?

My mom, several months after the accident, received a cash settlement and had not paid her tithes (in short-a monetary donation) on the sum. The pastor's daughter believed (we all believed this was her parents belief as well) that she would be punished by God if she continued to help us.

Why would she be punished?

For taking us to church while we were in disobedience to God's law...that's why.

By her doing this, she was in essence agreeing with my mom's choices. So, we were without a meeting place/community for the first time in my childhood that I can remember. Who knows what my mom actually gave, I don't remember. I could take this opportunity and go deeper into the congregation's methods of giving, but I'd prefer not to go down that rabbit hole. The point of this part of the journey is that it led me to the next step in my purpose. Stay focused.

Was my mom hurt?

Yes.

Yet, my sister, my brother and I were relieved, at first. We now had our freedom! As teens, that was the crux of what we thought of and focused on. Freedom to play outside until the street lights came on. Freedom to watch our favorite TV shows on Wednesdays. And most importantly, freedom to sleep in on Sunday mornings!

After a few months, the freedom we were now experiencing was wearing off. My mom was appearing a little more isolated than she already was accustom to. For me, a substantial yearning was starting to creep into my heart. From my teachings as a child (pastors, aunts, siblings) it's never a good thing to stay out of church for too long. So, I remember spending a lot of time in my room playing hide-and-go-seek, as I call it now, with God. This is when I would ask God a question, then open the Bible to a random page to see what he tells me or how he answers me. Now, I know this sounds childish; I was a child, but guess what? He ALWAYS answered. That's where I was in my relationship with Him, and he met me there.

Stolen minutes and half hours was how we spent time together until those scriptures became a part of my spiritual DNA, and my go to scriptures for tough times.

A couple of years passed with us being without a community/church. The next time I would walk through church doors would be at the age of 15. I met someone in high school whose light drew me. I began going to church with her. A Southern Baptist Church; a church that was very different from what I was accustomed to, but I was longing for something. Something was missing for me, and I believed in my heart that finding a community would help me find what I was looking for.