Tuesday  Talks with Lisa Hunt-Wotton

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Head Shot by Red Sparrow

My Wrestle with the Modern Church by Lisa Hunt-Wotton

For the last 18 months I’ve been trying to work out what exactly it is that stresses me about the modern church as we know it.  I realise that this will be a difficult post for some of you to read, probably as difficult as it is for me to write it but I am learning to be honest in this season of life.    I look forward to hearing from those of you involved in this on-line community, your thoughts, your encouragements.  We do life together.  Some of you will disagree with me and that’s okay too.   Thats healthy.   I’m  just chatting about where I am at this moment in time.

It is true that I’ve experienced two scarring traumas regarding church communities. However, over the last year I have begun to realise that my disconnect with the modern church goes much deeper.  I’m realising that I don’t agree with the way that many churches operate today.

Recently two authors who I admire and follow have both written articles about their own experiences concerning  the modern church.  Both have been pastors in large church settings and have both come head to head with their churches in regard to their own convictions and beliefs.

On December the 3rd 2015 John Pavlovitz posted an article in the Huffington post entitled ‘My Emancipation from American Christianity’.  In regard to the modern church John expresses that: “he has outgrown something that no longer feels like love, something I no longer see much of Jesus in”.  John says:

“If religion is worth holding on to, it should be the place where the marginalized feel the most visible, where the hurting receive the most tender care, where the outsiders find the safest refuge.  It should be where diversity is fiercely pursued and equality loudly championed; where all of humanity finds a permanent home and where justice runs the show”.

On December the 5th in response to Johns post and by offering a different perspective Rachel Held Evans wrote an article entitled: “On Outgrowing American Christianity”.  In it she talks about how it’s difficult to leave the church culture that you are raised in because it is actually part of who you are. That it is the skin in which you inhabit.  That you can’t be a Christian and stop being religious.  Rachel likens it to the idea that you can’t just stop being an American.  She says that if you are a christian then you are ‘part of a religion’ . She goes on to say that;  ‘we can’t escape our cultural situatedness and life experiences’  nor can we escape the ‘good gift of our dysfunctional beautiful and necessary global faith community’.

Rachel finishes with  a comment that resonated with me, she says this: “ Loving the church means both critiquing it and celebrating it.  We don’t have to chose between those two things, but we cannot imagine ourselves to be so far above the church that we are not a part of it”.

My other hero Brene Brown in an interview by The Work of the People called ‘Hurt or Healing’ talks about healing from faith wounds caused by man-made religion.  She sums it up by saying this:

‘Either your church is a place of healing or a place of hurting’.  Brene says that if it were up to her, “There would be a day of national reckoning and healing for the LGBTIQ community where every church would opens it’s doors and say, we’re sorry, we love you, we invite you back home, let us grow from you and learn from you and make amends”.

“As a faith community we can chose to be a place of hurt or healing.  Those are the only two choices.  There is no neutrality, if you are not healing then you are hurting”.

The Franciscan Richard Rohr says this about the demise of the modern church.  It is important that we value and honour church history and where we have come from, but it’s also important that we move forward and find new ways of living the gospel to a post  modern world.  I would say that this is where I am right now.

“It seems to me that the emerging church is emerging because people are finding the ability to have a grateful foot in both camps—one in the Tradition (the mother church) along with another foot inside of a support group that parallels, deepens, broadens, grounds, and personalizes the traditional message. But you don’t throw out the traditional message, or you have to keep rebuilding the infrastructure or creating a superstructure all over again.  The emerging church becomes an accountability system for the tradition, which is needed to keep us honest and not just lost in words. This is a new kind of reformation in which we don’t react, we don’t rebel, we don’t start from zero again. You can’t start a spiritual reformation by spinning wheels, particularly not angry wheels. You have to be for something—totally—or it is not religion”. Richard Rohr

And so the appropriate questions are:

“What are you in love with? What do you believe in? What is the heaven that you have already discovered? What good thing do you need to share? This is the only work of soul”.

Adapted from the CAC webcast, Nov. 8, 2008: “What is The Emerging Church?” Richard Rohr

What do I take away from all of this?

I am in an incredibly vulnerable position writing this piece because I am on a healing journey.  However I can only talk from the position that I am in today.

I’m not sure that I agree with Rachel on this one issue.  I think you can be a christian and stop being religious.  She says that this opinion is arrogant and naive.  Many of you probably think so also.  I don’t imagine myself to be far above the church not at all.  I think that a church exhibiting the tenants of the Gospel would be a place of Shalom.  In other words, a place where EVERY person can flourish  like a well watered garden.

However,  having had a life of trauma experiences I find that for good health you do often have to walk away from family and community if they are the ones causing the trauma or abuse.

Your social and primary identity should not keep you locked in a cycle of abuse.  I believe that you can move out of ‘religion’ and remain a christian.  I think that you can hold the tension of forgiveness and thankfulness for the former things but move forward and embrace a place of wholeness and freedom.  If I held to Rachel’s example then I would still be in a cult.  This is what they said to me at the time.  ‘If you leave us you leave God.  This is where you have been planted.  We are your family, your DNA’.

In my experience it was the church and the church leaders who were the abusers, the rejecters, the ones who cut you off, cast you aside and turned their backs on you.   I am aware that this is not everyones experience.

I totally agree with Brene:  if as a faith community you are not a place of healing then you are a place of hurting.  You can’t have it both ways.

I agree with Richard, we must respect the message of the Gospel but we have to be FOR something.   I also applaud  Johns’ statement that:

“If religion is to be worth holding on to, it should be the place where the marginalized feel the most visible, where the hurting receive the most tender care, where the outsiders find the safest refuge.  It should be where diversity is fiercely pursued and equality loudly championed; where all of humanity finds a permanent home and where justice runs the show”

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‘Death’  by Lisa Hunt-Wotton

I am FOR Jesus I believe in Him and love Him and everything that He taught.

I am NOT for systems that promote oppression, exclusion, boys clubs and gag orders.

So here are my issues and these are the things that I am stuck on in regard to the church, maybe you can help me unravel it all:

  • I don’t believe in patriarchy yet the church is a patriarchal system  – (Patriarchy is where men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it).
  • I don’t believe in hierarchy yet the church is definitely hierarchal.
  • I believe in equality yet the church does not promote equality either in gender, or age.  I could give many examples of how the church does not treat women equally.
    • It is often not multigenerational – e.g.: prefers youth on the stage: especially in music ministries.
    •  Does not accept the marginalised or outcast equally
    • Galations 3:28, we are all one in Christ.
  • I believe that the church should be a place of absolute inclusiveness and that the gospel is a gospel of loving enemies and welcoming the stranger and yet we exclude those we don’t understand or agree with.
    • Recently the president of the largest evangelical college in America encouraged bible college students to ‘arm themselves’ so that “we can end those Muslims before they walk in”.  “Lets teach them a lesson if they ever show up here”.
    • You might say that we in Australia would never say that.  Just this year I was with a group of christians leaders who were speaking passionately against Muslims, speaking about how they are going to take over Australia and how we need to pray AGAINST Muslims………..  ‘If’ Muslims are our enemies, aren’t we supposed to love them?  Jesus said in Matthew 5 “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray FOR them”
  • I believe that the church should be a place of healing not a place of hurting.
  • I believe that we should lead with our embrace and not our theology (D. Hirsch).
  • I am very frustrated with christians who are not engaged in community – many would not even know an unchurched person.  Their whole lives evolve around their christian community, christian friends and christian events.  Their vision of evangelism is inviting an unchurched person into Church, wouldn’t it make more sense to ask them to dinner?  Didn’t Jesus say go out into all the world.  People are supposed to know that we are christians because of our love.  If we don’t know any unchurched people how can we love them.
  • I believe the church should be a place of relevance and yet it is becoming more and more disconnected from the hurts and wounds that plague humanity.
    • We should be having conversations about social issues like depression, refugees, anxiety, domestic violence, homosexuality, drug and alcohol abuse, homelessness, violence, addictions, pornography, sexuality.  How can we be a place of healing to a broken community when our churches refuse to engage in these issues?
  • What about injustice?  Why isn’t the church in a rage about the treatment of refugees and children in detention?  What about the women who have been killed at the hands of violent partners?  What about Australia’s exclusion  and abhorrence of refugees and the children and babies being sent back into detention?
    • How can we continue to have lovely services about faith and hope and prayer when one child remains in such inhumane conditions?  Where is the ‘love mercy act justly’?
    • Where is the voice of christian leaders on these issues?  I hear a lot of silence.

Lord when did we see you hungry or thirsty, when did we see you as a stranger, when did we see you in prison, when did we see you sick?  ‘Whatever you do for the least of these you do for me’.  (Matthew 25)

I DO BELIEVE  in this vision of the church and the gospel.

“If religion is to be worth holding on to, it should be the place where the marginalized feel the most visible, where the hurting receive the most tender care, where the outsiders find the safest refuge.  It should be where diversity is fiercely pursued and equality loudly championed; where all of humanity finds a permanent home and where justice runs the show”. J. Pavlovitz

 

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‘New Life’ by Lisa Hunt-Wotton

Featured Image by Matt Lawson – Local Melbourne Based Photographer https://www.facebook.com/MattLawsonPhotography/?fref=ts

 

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Patreon allows people to financially pledge to support artists, writers, musicians, and other creative people.Sunday Everyday has been on line since the first of February 2015.  Since that time I have been doing this in a volunteer capacity.  For the blog to continue I need your support.  You may want to give the amount you would spend on a coffee and muffin once a month.  Every bit helps.

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Love Lisa

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20 Comments on “My Wrestle with the Modern Church

  1. I know I commented on your facebook post about this but re-reading it here, and with the relative anonymity on WordPress (most of my readers are not people I know in real life) I think there’s more scope to be honest here. I quit Pentecostalism last year. It was a long, slow, painful death to a difficult journey spanning almost 15 years of my life. It was awful. Friends I loved and valued and journeyed with have turned their backs on me, wrongly interpreting my leaving as my judgement on their own faith (is it so hard to believe that different individuals need different styles of church?!)

    I left, not out of immaturity as RHE suggests in the quote you shared, but out of the realisation that my mental health, financial health, physical health, family relationships and quality of life deteriorated from the moment I set foot inside the church. I had entered there already broken and vulnerable and seeking spiritual answers, and yet when I left I was in a far worse condition. I am now on the path of getting psychological and medical treatment for the damage to my mind and emotions. The worst part is feeling exploited in my vulnerability. Exploited for my money, my labour, my energy – and the moment I left (in peace, as far as I could) it was as if I had never existed.

    I have lost friends left, right and centre. I have atheist and ex-Christian friends reaching out to me and offering me greater kindness and acceptance than many Christians (I am still a believer, but a much more quiet, contemplative sort with a far less dogmatic faith). I have in many ways returned to the Catholic church, which I do despite years of hearing every single Pentecostal reason against it (I have KJC’s book ‘Only For Catholics’ sitting on my bedside table, so really, I’ve heard it all!). I concede that the Catholic church has more than enough of its own problems, yet it was my spiritual home before I married into Pentecostalism and it was a safe space for me (while fully acknowledging that some of my Catholic friends did not find it in any way safe). It’s in Celtic Catholic and contemplative Catholic practices that I am finding healing for my spiritual self.

    As profoundly difficult as it is trying to deprogram my mind after not just Pentecostalism but the peculiarly fundamentalist conspiracy-theorist misogynist propserity-loving brand of Pente theology espoused by the people who first pushed me to convert, there is also a strong sense of relief and hope. I cry my way through mass on the rare occasions I feel strong enough to attend. I’m connecting with the ecumenical community and finding acceptance. I’m rediscovering the person I was before the type of Pentecostalism I experienced Bible-bashed it out of me. I have good days, but sometimes the grief I have towards it sends me into deep depression. There seems something horrendously unjust about having poured oneself into a community in good faith and genuine enthusiasm, only to be left broken, damaged, psychologically traumatised and grappling with panic attacks. And to think that what I experienced was not even at the cult-level… I can’t even imagine how awful it would be for people in the truly controlling, manipulative cults to come out of those experiences.

    Liked by 1 person

      • Fiona this is not too wordy / I’ve been contemplating And re-reading this and have so much to say. It is becoming more clear to me that our stories are unfortunately more common than we realise. I am gutted by the way that you have been treated. I am so sorry.
        I am reading a book ATM recommended to me by Dr John Drane after talking with him about this post. It looks at this very subject / of Christians who leave the church but who stay vital in their faith. It is evidence based on research and interviews. There are very substantial numbers of people who leave church but are still Christian – in many cases seeming to be more committed than some who stay in the church. There’s a significant research project been done in Scotland on all this that might interest you: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=steve+aisthorpe

        Liked by 1 person

        • Sorry the link failed – the book is called “the invisible church” by Steve Ailsthorpe. he discovered two thirds of church-leavers maintain a strong personal faith. 92% were church leaders and had served in church in some capacity between 10-15 years. Very sobering. Christians who attend church are just the tip of the Christian iceberg but the church doesn’t want to know them. church attendance is declining but the Christian faith isn’t, it is just transitioning. – hope this helps xxx

          Liked by 1 person

    • You know I’d never thought of the term “exploited” – but you are so right. This feeling softens as you heal and you realise that you were volunteering/giving/working because of your love for the Lord. Somehow I believe that Jesus truly sees this. It doesn’t change the hurt of being taken advantage of but maybe gives some perspective? The loss of friends and family I still struggle to understand but as you would know – forgiveness is the only answer here and that takes time. I think they feel abandoned, rejected, betrayed maybe? Their identities are so closely entwined with the institution. For me I know that many of my family actually feared for my life and salvation. So fear is a huge motivator. As always thank you my friend for your vulnerability and lucid conversations. Xxx love you Lisa

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you, I will look up that book!

        You’re right. I was motivated out of a desire to do something good for God and for others. My 10 years of active youth ministry, young adults ministry, and prayer ministry were valuable in their own way. I do wish there had been someone at the time to point out that as a mum of young kids and a uni student, I didn’t need to do a million things for church. That my spiritual priority was to be a responsible parent and a good student. I wish I’d put that time into my own kids and my studies, instead of running off adrenaline and caffeine for all those years while trying to juggle way too many commmitments. I recall the “prophetic words” which were probably just intuitive forms of low key passive-aggressive controlling behaviour. One pastor who’s no longer there told me that I had been called to minister to young people and oh, look at that, we need more cell group leaders. When people speak on behalf of God it’s very hard for a mentally ill person to reason through it – it becomes not just someone suggesting a course of action, but God Himself demanding that I set aside my own life and do His work which happens to be identical to the organised church’s work. Most of my psychological therapy has been training in applying reason to my social interactions, where my anxiety most strongly manifests itself.

        When I left, at the very least a “thank you” card would’ve been nice but I guess the “see you around” facebook message followed by a mass unfriending from the youth leaders will have to do. I once prayed with these people, shared my struggles with them. Assumed that because they were Jesus followers they cared about the humans in their midst, not just their own reputations and popularity. Maybe they DO care, but it certainly wasn’t evidenced by their actions. Perhaps ironically, the fact that the unfriending and shunning began before I had decided to leave was part of the reason I did leave. All I had done, from my perspective, was to take a volunteering break so that I could get better and then come back. But I was so blindsided by the sudden hostility that it exposed it for the controlling, insecure in-crowd that it was.

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        • In some ways the Pentecostalism I experienced just isn’t a healthy space for introverts. (There’s a chapter in Susan Cain’s “Quiet” that talks about that. I felt like she was describing my life!) And in my case I desperately needed medical intervention but instead what I received was unhelpful advice regarding my perceived spiritual faults, lack of gratitude as an explanation for my protracted times of low moods, and my having allowed Satan’s lies to take root in my heart. As someone who had a couple of years involved in neo-pagan belief practices, even though in retrospect that was a very small part of my journey, it was too easy for Pentes to point at that very brief part of my life and say it was to blame for everything I was experiencing. As opposed to it being symptoms of an easily treatable medical condition. When I was diagnosed my doctor noted that it was unusual for patients to let their depression and anxiety get to such a severe state before seeking help. I think that can be linked directly to this emphasis on spiritual answers for psychological problems. (The book ‘The Failure of Evangelical Mental Health Care’ by John Weaver is the best one I’ve read on the topic. It’s also so infuriating that I had to read it in short doses!)

          While it can be a refreshing change for those who find traditional church stifling, the Pente emphasis on loud, expressive, colourful services, not to mention large crowds (a congregation twice the size of my hometown’s entire population is intimidating to say the least) started triggering severe panic attacks for me. I would have people pray for me while I was uncontrollably shaking and feeling faint in church. I just wish that there had been someone – anyone – to suggest to me that I talk to my doctor about my physical symptoms. Which of course were explained as spiritual attack.

          There also seems to me to be an implicit emphasis on people being outgoing for Jesus – one’s spiritual credentials ride on whether you’re evangelising enough. Which is hard to do when you’re so weighed down by church commitments – at one point the husband and I were doing church stuff five nights a week. It got to the stage where my son, who would’ve been maybe 6 years old at the time, would beg me to not go to church because I hardly spent any time with him.

          I hadn’t even planned to leave at first. I just found myself attending Taizé prayer services (which have a mix of hymns, Bible reading, iconography, and silent prayer) and for a while that was enough as a space to pray with other believers. I realised I was happier in contemplative faith practices.

          It seems to me a number of people want to tell me my journey is about politics, and admittedly the anti-environmentalist variants of Christianity make me want to tear my hair out. But it ran so much deeper than mere surface disagreement with a couple of political ideologies. I can handle differences of opinion. I can’t handle being controlled, manipulated, and left hungry, unable to pay the bills, borrowing money from my non-Christian family to survive, while still being expected to tithe and told that my poverty was my lack of faith – and not a very straightforward case of being burdened with financial demands from an upper middle class church community that can’t comprehend that some of us were born into farming/working class and didn’t have the luxury of starting out wealthy and that it has literally nothing to do with the strength of my own faith. (A whole essay in itself.)

          I don’t know. I’m still processing it all and probably will have to for a long time. I know that my experiences were not universal. I’ve got a handful of friends who can’t believe that I’m describing the same church they love. I had so many positive experiences there, too, and I don’t deny them. I wish I could’ve walked away saying it was good. Part of the reason I hesitated to leave was because of the John Bevere-style theology that says it’s wrong to leave a church if you’re unhappy with it. (Now I think about it, it’s just another mechanism for control – to tell people that they can only leave if they’re happy and in good standing? What kind of disconnected, cognitively dissonant faith is this?!)

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          • My clinical psychologist tells me there probably will come a point where I can look back on that era of my life with nostalgic okayness, but for now to see myself as having a necessary amount of anger and frustration. As she tells me, these negative emotions provide a source of useful energy to enable us to leave dysfunctional settings. It’s the body’s way of getting our attention when other ways have failed. At least there’s hope I will move on eventually!

            Hmm… I could write a book on all this. Once I start typing it’s hard to stop! The problem is we haven’t told many people that we’ve left, including certain members of the extended family who are both fundamentalist Pentecostals and extremely anti-Catholic. While I don’t care about their opinion, my husband and kids do. So I’m keeping it low-key for now. Also, it’s complicated because my son has stayed at church where he is now a children’s church leader, so for his sake I have to make sure I am not too critical. I want to support him in his choice to stay while trying to disconnect. It’s not easy.

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  2. Thank you so much for “coming out” and writing this! You will save lives. I left a similar church situation where I was told that abuse happening in my marriage was going to refine me. That perhaps I needed to submit more. Pray harder. I began to question and when we finally left the church I started to see that the people I thought were my friends were actually just “doing their job”. I was not a friend, but a mere project. Where was the grace in that? My auntie who loved Jesus was also a Lesbian and the church made her afraid for her life. Where was the grace in that?

    Yes!! The church should perhaps look like Jesus…100%!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Lisa,
    Mel & I have been journeying with you through these blog posts for quite some time now. I’m speaking for myself, but I know Mel would agree with the comments I have to share.

    Firstly, I want to let you know that I think you’re brave.
    Braver than I’ve been for quite some time. I’ve always swum against the current, but in recent years it’s been like swimming up a waterfall.

    Something in me hasn’t been able to reconcile my understanding of scripture with my experience of life. It’s been taught to me from one perspective, but I’ve never been able to make it fit with what I feel deeply inside.

    I’ve grown up in the church, it was the refuge that my mother sought as a way of escaping her own hell of domestic violence. So from a young age, I was taught that the church community was our place to ‘belong’. I’ve held a deep respect for it, it saved her (and me) from a living hell.

    But that is only the first chapter of the story.
    As I continued to grow up inside the ‘safety’ of a church community and eventually work in it as a full time minister, I reached a point where I’d experienced such painful abuse that I could barely sit in a service without having a physical reaction to the environment I was in.

    The best way I can describe it is:
    If you were to eat something that made you feel unwell, then a few months later, you ate it again, and it made you sick a second time, the third time you smelt it, or tasted it, your body would have an automatic physical reaction to the smell or taste, even without your consent.

    I was sitting in an environment every week and I was not having a spiritual battle, I was having a physical one. I was trying to cope with unexpected cold sweats, feelings of nausea, and isolating anxiety.

    But that wasn’t enough to trigger a decision to leave the church community that had ‘saved’ my mother and I all those years earlier. I was loyal. In fact, I was more than that, I was stubborn. I don’t go down without a fight…come to think of it, I don’t go down at all, I find a way through, and this was no different.

    I resolved that I wouldn’t ‘leave’ the church to escape these reactions until I reached a point where I didn’t ‘need to leave’ or ‘escape’. I was going to beat down the physical reactions by overexposure…that would fix it.

    Eventually the cold sweats subsided and the physical reactions diminished to a point that I felt were within limits I was satisfied with. I win.

    It was around this time that I think I started to have my real ‘awakening’.
    Once I was able to attend a church service and not spend the whole time dealing with my physical responses, I was able to start taking in what was going on around me.

    For the first time, as an adult I was able to ‘consider’ the community I was a part of. Here I was, late 20’s for the first time looking around me at the church I’d been a part of all my life.

    As a highly creative person, I’ve always struggled with ‘seeing’ things the way other people see them. I don’t mean revolutionary teenage rebellion views, I mean, ‘seeing’ and ‘knowing’ that there’s layers beneath what other people are seeing.

    When I was younger I didn’t have the vocabulary to manage different perspectives very well, but as I’ve reached my 30’s I’ve become better at it.

    I’ve journeyed way past the point of being cynical about my own experiences. I’m healthy, well and seeking a rich fulfilling life with my wife and three kids.

    I’ve reached a tipping point in my own journey though, where I can’t keep my ideas and opinions to myself. Not because I want to influence other people to change their perspectives. It’s actually becuase I’m isolating myself from people by not being honest with them about who I am and what I believe.

    For the first time last week I reached out to my closest friend and shared a Richard Rohr podcast on 7 alternative orthodoxies and explained to him that it has been transformative to my personal faith journey.

    I was really concerned that he would hear it and realise just how far my views were from the traditional views of what we’d grown up with. I wasn’t trying to persuade him toward my own beliefs. I was trying to invite him into a closer conversation with me about who I am, and what faith and the church looks like for me today.

    I took some courage from your bravery and sent him the link.
    It took him a week to get back to me, and he summed it up in one word.

    “Beautiful”

    When I saw that message come through, you could have knocked me over with a feather. We spoke about it and discovered shared perspectives on LGBTIQ, salvation, and more.

    It was a small step, but a good step. In this next chapter of my life, the community or ‘church’ that I surround myself with will be people who I invite into the deeper, truthful part of who I am. Who accept and embrace the creative in me. That understand that I see the world upside down, inside out and in saturated colours…and that’s good.

    Thanks for being a voice and for being brave.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Wow wow wow – I’m crying while I read this for the third time – so beautiful and so encouraging. It gives me such hope. You my friend need to write more – thank you from the bottom of my heart xxx Lisa

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      • Peter, I forgot to thank you for sharing your powerful story. I can resonate with the way you described it and your loyalty toward it. It’s a heartbreaking experience. Thank you for your honesty. Lisa

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        • Thanks Lisa,
          This is actually the first time I’ve shared any of these thoughts publicly. So I’m just finding my voice. Feels good to get it out though. I feel like I’ve got so much to say about so many things that I’m discovering. I probably wrote twice what I put in my response, but deleted it so as not to make the reply longer than the post. Ha!

          Liked by 1 person

  4. I love your expression of inquisitiveness in your journey of healing Lisa 😀
    It is indeed both sobering and confronting when a ‘belief system’ is loosing its appeal and God forbid we enter into an alternate manifestation of what Church ‘should’ look like!
    It can be a place of solitude!
    My experience in this similar passage of discovery continues to challenge me however I have met people that have encouraged and supported me in my inquisitiveness so I wouldn’t change it for anything.😀

    Liked by 1 person

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