Pain to Purpose: Church Hurt

I never thought I’d find myself where I was- feeling that kind of heartbreak. I gave my heart to my church—my time, my energy, my prayers, my love. It wasn’t just a place I went on Sundays; it was my home, my safe space, where I felt truly known and loved. I believed in the vision, in what God was doing there, and I wanted to be a part of that story.

But slowly, things started to change, and it felt like watching a close-knit family fall apart. It wasn’t one big event that shattered everything; it was the little things—small tensions, subtle disagreements that turned into deep divides. What once felt like unity began to unravel, and those who had been friends and partners in ministry started to feel like strangers.

I knew churches aren’t perfect—they’re made up of flawed people, just like me. I always believed in extending grace, but this time was different. It wasn’t about small disagreements or misunderstandings; it was a deep shift that I couldn’t ignore. The heart of the community I had poured so much into was changing, and it hurt in a way I couldn’t put into words.

Leaving was gut-wrenching. My husband and I wrestled with the decision for months, hoping and praying that something would change. We held on to hope that the church could find its way back to what it had been. But the truth was, it wasn’t the same place anymore. The joy and connection we once had felt like a distant memory, and every time we walked through those doors, it was a painful reminder that things had changed.

Eventually, we had to listen to that quiet, unshakeable voice in our hearts. We knew God was leading us away, even though it meant stepping into the unknown. We couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay, couldn’t keep quieting the convictions God had placed in us. It felt like walking away from everything we’d built, everything we’d loved.

And when we left, the grief hit me like a wave. I’d built my life around that community, and without it, I felt lost—like I was drifting through life without an anchor. Depression settled in for over a year, and I struggled to understand why things had fallen apart the way they did. I missed the sense of belonging, the Sundays that once overflowed with laughter, prayer, and genuine connection.

But in that season of feeling lost, God was working in ways I couldn’t see. He was leading me to a new kind of ministry, one that looked different than I imagined. Through the tears and the quiet moments, He started to reshape my purpose. He reminded me that even when it feels like everything is falling apart, He’s still holding the pieces, working them together for good.

Forgiving those who hurt us hasn’t been easy. I know that grace is important, but there are wounds that still ache. Words were spoken that cut deeper than I could have imagined, and I found myself questioning everything—my motives, my worth, my relationship with God. It’s hard to hear that your concerns aren’t welcome, that your prayers are seen as threats. It’s painful to feel like an outsider among those you once trusted.

I’ve learned that forgiveness is a choice I have to make over and over again. Even when the memories resurface and the pain feels fresh, I remind myself of God’s call to forgive as He has forgiven me. It doesn’t come easily, but I know I can’t let bitterness take root.

Leaving wasn’t about running from hurt or conflict. It was about following God’s voice, even when it led us away from everything familiar. It was trusting that He had a plan for us, even when it felt like everything was falling apart. Trusting that He saw every tear, every sleepless night, every moment of doubt. Trusting that He would guide us to a place where we could find healing and new hope.

Now, after a season of searching and waiting, we’ve found a new church home. It’s not the first church we tried after leaving, but it feels different this time. There’s a quiet peace, a sense that God is planting new seeds of hope. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m ready to embrace this new chapter, even with all its uncertainties.

If you’ve been hurt by the church, know that you’re not alone. I see you. I know how deeply it hurts when the place you once called home feels like it’s slipping away. But I also know that God sees your pain, and He’s not done with your story. He’s walking with you, just like He’s walked with me, leading you through the wilderness to a place of healing and hope.

I don’t have all the answers, but I know the One who holds them. And right now, that’s enough. God has a way of turning what feels like an ending into the beginning of something new. I’m holding on to that promise, and I’m excited to see where He leads next.