Getting kicked out of church was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Until it happened to me, I didn't realize that there was anything that could justify being asked to leave church, or in my case told "Don't come back to our church or go to anyone else's church for that matter." I was a single mom, pregnant, scared, and living a life governed by unresolved childhood trauma, soul ties and generational junk that I had no awareness of. When all of "my stuff" showed up in the form of another unwed pregnancy, the pastor's wife of the church where I was a member had had enough of me. And I was kicked out via a two and a half minute voicemail. 

Although it's been 21 years ago, I remember that day as if it were just yesterday. After months of depression, suicide ideation and anxiety, listening to the hate in her voice as she called my children "illegitimate" and expressed how she was "tired of pussyfooting around" with me- for the first time, I was completely numb. I felt nothing. And feeling nothing felt better than wanting to die. 

For the first time in my adult life, I hated living in a small town. News of me being kicked out of church spread like an uncontrollable wildfire. I wasn't talking; not because I had nothing to say but because God told me not to, so, I didn't. But the pastors of that church were talking about it from the pulpit, warning their members to stay away from me as if I were some contagious, incurable disease. Trips to WalMart became uncomfortable. Not because I cared that they were talking; it was the stares and the same church folks whom I had prayed and served with would take a different aisle if we somehow ended up on the same one. I felt like Hester Prynne, but instead of an A my scarlet letter was a proverbial P. 

It would be about five years later and after being kicked out of another church by another pastor's wife before me and my former pastors would sit down, face-to-face and talk about what happened. A lot of things transpired in between those years, but that day, they apologized to me and repented for kicking me out of their church. I forgave them and to this day have absolutely no ill will towards them. 

The second time that I was kicked out was for a different "reason". I was married; my family and I were attending church services regularly. The pastor's wife was very controlling- she didn't even want me praying outside of church with family members because they didn't belong to her church. Wherever there's a Jezebel spirit in control, there are also spirits of jealousy and envy. The straw that broke the camel's back so-t0-speak for this pastor's wife was when she heard her husband compliment me one morning after service. It wasn't long before I got the "The Spirit of the Lord told me to tell you to touch not His anointed and do His prophets no harm" email. 

God, in His relentless pursuit of me and through His grace, healed me of the wounds caused by church hurt and spiritual abuse. I don't share my story to bash a church or the Church; I love the Church and what it is supposed to represent- even when it doesn't always reflect God's purpose for it. I share my story to encourage those who have been abused by their spiritual leaders that no matter how deep their words or actions stuck you, that God wants to heal You and restore you back to Him. It's only because of Jesus and His love for me that I can now share my story with laughter. What happened isn't funny but I have an unspeakable joy that nobody and nothing can take away from me. If you're hurting, I want you to have the same joy. Please Don't Make Me Fall: Save by His Grace When Church Hurt is my story but it's your pathway to healing. Jesus is waiting for you. 

​