When Church Hurts

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Our time at school in California was wonderful and hurtful all in the same breath. Our days were filled with classes and studies. At night we watched TV or went to the beach. Life was amazingly simple and friendships were created with ease. We enjoyed everything about California. The weather, the sunshine, and the freedom it offered. However, despite all of the incredible benefits we still felt like fish out of water. We couldn’t seem to fit in or find our place among the sea of leaders from around the world.

We were pastored by one of the founders of Every Nation and his right hand man was assigned to “disciple” Barry and me. We felt honored and nervous. It seemed as though we would never meet up to their level of expertise or influence. After all, they were wearing designer clothes and discipling famous actors and athletes while we were shopping the clearance isle at Ross and witnessing to college students in Long Beach. The pressure I felt on my appearance in Louisiana was magnified as we faced the seemingly elite members of the church each Sunday. I wondered how anyone outside of this crowd could ever feel welcome in a church so preoccupied with status. I left church each Sunday on edge. I wanted to see people reached out to, but instead I heard messages on becoming wealthy and influential. Any and everything that could be preached regarding prosperity echoed from the pulpit.

My heart began balancing on a fine line. Each time I searched for Christ within the lives of those in leadership I came up empty-handed. Instead of love I found expectations and rules or correction and condemnation. I felt alone in my discoveries…that is until the truth began to unfold. To say it was damaging would be an understatement. Barry and I sat in shock when we finally heard the news of all that had happened during our stay and after we left. As broken people started to share their stories of control and abuse things began to make sense…one heartache at a time. We hurt for them, we understood their pain and in the midst of it all, we realized we were in a similar situation. We felt trapped and silenced. My heart was aching and the more I searched for answers, the more I was rebuked.

A Hard Heart

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The road trip from Louisiana to California was freeing. We drove with the windows down and played our favorite music as loud as we could. Despite the fact that we were in our early twenties, we felt so much older. The pressure of keeping up appearances caused us to constantly worry about our actions. We had forgotten what it was like to be carefree and simply enjoying life. The solitude of the open road made us feel safe and allowed us to loosen up a little bit.

We spoke candidly with each other, sharing our dreams, hopes and concerns. We were both beginning to question our leaders. They contained a certain level of control over our lives, decisions and actions. But, despite the fact that our entrapment was glaringly obvious to anyone on the outside, we convinced ourselves that our questions were a sign of weakness. We believed that our leaders and pastors only wanted the best for us, so surely the fault was within our own hearts. We concluded that we just weren’t mature enough yet to see the whole picture. We just needed time…that was all.

Once we arrived, we were told that we would be staying with a single man in the church until our apartment was ready. I felt my stomach turn at the thought of staying with someone again. I took comfort in the fact that it would only be a matter of weeks and not months this time around. That made me feel better… that is until we saw our accommodations.

Our makeshift room contained an air mattress with a sheet thrown on top and a trash can. It didn’t have a door, so a shower curtain was wedged in between the door frame to give us a sense of privacy. I whispered my disdain to Barry as we brought in our suitcases. He chuckled at the aggravated look on my face and reminded me to be thankful that we even had a place to stay. Annoyed with his answer I playfully slammed the door (shower curtain) on my way back out to the truck. I needed to grab the box containing our bedding, but more than anything I needed a moment to myself.

Looking up at the sky I rested my arms across the back of tailgate. I was weary from the long drive, and my emotions were raw as a result. But as I stood there, alone with my thoughts I finally admitted to God how mad I was at Him. I wanted to please Him more than anything, but it seemed as though I never could. Every time I got my hopes up that our situation would get better I was instantly brought back to feeling like it never really would. Things were becoming personal between us…for the first time in my life I was beginning to think God was all about seeing His children suffer. It pained me to realize that my Heavenly Father wasn’t actually how I had pictured Him. I wanted nothing more than to pour out my heart to God, to cry and tell Him about how hard I felt things were becoming for us. But, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t face the possibility of God slapping my hand in disgust over my ungrateful attitude and lack of faith.

My relationship with my Lord was changing, and I wasn’t convinced that is was for the better.

On The Road Again

We loaded up the old Mazda truck with boxes and suitcases. Somehow this was becoming a familiar and comforting routine. Even though the action of moving was tiring, it always represented hope that our circumstances were changing. By this time in our lives we were feeling the sting of control and the beauty of blessing. It was an awkward combination. The control was draining the life out of us, yet the blessings seemed to hold fresh, new hope.

We searched the duplex to make sure things were in order. We didn’t have room to take any of our furniture or housewares with us, so they were going to sit dormant for the next six months. At one point it was suggested that I allow some of the other staff members live in our furnished home while we were gone. As much as I wanted to be a giving woman, I just couldn’t bring myself to agree that it was a good idea. Six months of someone else sleeping in our bed, using our sofa, and the list went on and on. So, I declined the “suggestion”. However, we did agree that our home and the majority of our belongings could be used to house guest speakers and family members of the pastoral staff. That seemed like a good enough compromise and something that could keep everyone happy.

As we drove away I found a note tucked into my purse from a dear friend. A note containing a prayer that the next season of going to school in California would open doors to our dreams and equip us for the future. I stared at the handwritten letter and silently hoped that God would make a way for Barry and I to dream again. After two years of working around the clock to make Master’s Commission a success we were slowly dying and we desperately needed a time of refreshing. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding mine Barry lifted up a prayer asking God to do a work in our lives. We were alone, headed to a new state and a new church. We weren’t sure what to expect, but we felt the odds were stacked in our favor. A new day was dawning and it was exciting. But, in all reality, the heartache and confusion was just beginning.

Yes Men

I hurried around the house, trying to find something to wear. Barry waited by the door for me while I rushed to make my final decision. “Okay, okay” I yelled from the back bedroom…”I’m almost ready”. I emerged in black slacks and a button up shirt. Hopefully this would meet their approval. Every week at our staff meetings the pastor praised the other wives for what they were wearing and he would always skip over me. I thought maybe it was because I was too casual, not thin enough…ugh…I had no idea but I was going to keep trying until I got the stamp of approval. This had become the normal ritual every day. I worried myself sick over how I would be perceived. We were approaching almost two years of being on staff and I received more rebukes for my appearance during that time than I knew to be possible. My self-esteem was taking a dive and I felt as though I could not recover.

Barry whistled in my direction as we walked to the car. I breathed a sigh of relief, at least he thought I looked nice. He was always good at making me feel better. He knew how hard it was for me to feel beautiful. In his own way he could relate. He was constantly criticized for his long hair, his scruffy face, his shoes…you name it…he heard it. So, he purposefully extended compassion to me in light of the increasing pressure being placed upon our appearance.

When we arrived to the staff meeting we took our normal seats and waited for our pastor to greet us. He was on his cell phone, kicking his foot impatiently. He muttered something about “Man of God…” and I tuned him out. I felt bad for whomever was on the receiving end of the phone. I hated those type of calls. We all sat in silence until he wrapped up the conversation. I knew this was going to be a meeting for the books…he was on a roll.

Everyone went around the circle, in their usual fashion. Giving reports of how their ministry was doing, any issues that needed to be addressed and then thanking pastor for his fabulous message on Sunday. Everything transpired as normal…until it got to us. To our surprise, our pastor announced that he was sending us to California to go to the Every Nation School of Campus Ministry. We sat there in shock. We had no idea what to say, we knew very little about the school or the people that comprised it’s leadership. Seeing the perplexed look on our faces he told us that he would talk to us later. He firmly mentioned that we should be excited about the opportunity he was giving us, after all most people would be thrilled.

We went home in a daze. The fact that the decision was made without even consulting us really bothered me as well as Barry. Even though California would be a step up from the swamp lands we were calling home, it just seemed completely absurd to make us move on a whim. But, we knew that for us to say no to our Pastor would cause a major uproar…so we joined the ranks among the other staff members.

That day, we officially resigned ourselves to becoming his ”Yes Men”.

Roomates

Rain streamed down the window pane as I sat in the middle of the floor sorting through boxes. It rained every day and my naturally curly hair quickly emerged from its slumber to soak in the humidity. Everything in Louisiana was different from the life I had come to know and love in Texas. Transition was hitting me hard and I was tired from living in uncertainty.

The majority of our life’s possessions were tucked away in storage. We only planned on living with of one of the elders and his wife for a matter of weeks. But, as days and months went by there was an overwhelming sense that we may never move out. I slowly began unpacking and making the most of our one bedroom castle. A wedding picture here, a blanket there. Displaying small personal items made it feel like we belonged and that helped put a silver lining on the situation. At night I would lay in bed and remember what it was like to sleep in our own bed, have a stocked fridge and spend evenings curled up in front of the television. My how life had changed. But I held onto hope that things would get better…eventually.

The elders home we lived in was beautiful. We had our own bedroom and bathroom down the hall. The couple who took us in treated us with incredible kindness and generosity. I felt bad that we were living with them for so long. It was beyond embarrassing. Time and time again they reassured us that it was okay and always made us feel welcome and comfortable. But, like any newly married couple we longed for a home of our own. A place to display all of our lovely wedding gifts, a home in which friends or family could visit us and most importantly we longed for privacy.

As we waited on permanent housing to open up, our pastor made the decision to build duplexes on the church property for his newly acquired staff members. We were thankful for his offer but, it was not something we asked him to do. After all, the church was still paying for the brand new sanctuary it just built and struggling to pay us a decent wage. All we really wanted was a dependable salary and the freedom to pick out our own housing accommodations. But when the subject was brought up we were made to feel guilty for questioning his generous decision. Words such as patience, trust and blessing were used to put us back into submission to the “big picture”. So, like any good disciple we kept our mouths shut and did our best to make the most of the lengthy building process.

Almost 1 year from the time we arrived, we moved into one of the duplexes. We had a view of the sanctuary and lived on the church campus. Our rent was cheap in order to accommodate the small salary we were given to live on. To make ends meet we gathered canned goods from the church’s food pantry whenever we couldn’t afford groceries. We lived on hand me down clothes and ” financial blessings” from members of the congregation. Life was simple, but we were happy. We finally had a place to call home. It felt like things were looking up, the tide was turning and we were learning the ropes.

But as we began the process of planting roots in our new hometown, we could not get past the feeling that something was wrong…very wrong. Our hearts were heavy and we could not figure out why.

New Kid On The Block

I walked into the sanctuary a little tired from the day, but ready to be energized by a time of worship and a good message. We were a fairly new addition to the pastoral staff, so I wanted to put my best foot forward. After all, people were still getting to know me. I had on my favorite trouser jeans and the cutest white jacket. A great pair of high heels and freshly straightened hair topped off the outfit. I felt good, ready to meet new friends and enjoy the presence of God. As I was making my way to the front pew, I felt a tug on my arm. I turned around, expecting a warm greeting. But instead I was faced with a very concerned look. The question that followed nearly knocked the wind out of me…

“What makes you think that YOU can wear jeans to a service? Do you see any of the other pastor’s wives wearing jeans?”

My heart sank, I didn’t know how to recover from the statement. Still in shock I managed to mumble an apology…It took everything within me not to run out of the church in embarrassment. I spent the rest of the service discretely counting how many other people were in jeans. Evidently I wasn’t alone in thinking that it was okay to dress casual for a mid-week service. I slipped out during the salvation prayer and ran to the car. All I could think about was how I let everyone down…I was already a failure and people barely knew me. This instance was the kick-start to a very long season. A season of feeling as though I did everything wrong…a season of being controlled.

Where Do You Want Us to Live?

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Barry and I walked along the dusty road, following closely behind our newly acquired friend. He was told to show us where we would be living. His slow pace revealed the hesitancy he felt as led us to the house with the flat roof. Standing hand in hand Barry and I stared at the tiny house in the middle of the church grounds. Until that moment, I never really paid any attention to the run down building with torn blinds and a dirty exterior. It was just another facility on the almost 30 acre campus the church owned. As we walked inside I let out a small gasp, I couldn’t believe the view. It was dirty and musty smelling. All of the furniture was carefully placed on cinder blocks and the walls showed signs of water damage. As I looked around, I could feel myself starting to sink. It was overwhelming to think that this was a place where someone actually slept, prepared food and called home.

While I examined the kitchen Barry took the initiative to look around thoroughly. With years of experience in construction he quickly realized the amount of work it would take to make the place decent and livable. As newlyweds, he wanted to give me the best, but he knew that the building we were standing in was beyond repair. I could feel his apprehension as he returned to my side. Without saying a word, Barry gently grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine. He graciously thanked the young man who had taken time to show us around and then swiftly led me outside.

As we walked away, the tears I held back only moments before spilled onto the dry ground. I couldn’t believe that we were being asked to move into a building that was barely livable. I wondered if that’s how they treated all of the new staff members, or if they just thought we needed an extra dose of humility. Regardless of their reasoning , there was no doubt in my mind that we could ever live in such conditions…even if it was free.

As the evening drew to a close, Barry made an important phone call. He declined their “generous” offer and asked our leaders to appeal to the Pastor for a better living space. Little did we know, we were about to lose the beauty of newly wedded bliss.

Changes Ahead

Hello everyone!

I hope you are all doing well and gearing up for a delightful Holiday Season. I wanted to take a moment and inform you of some changes that are going to take place on my blog.   Starting this week I will begin posting My Story and Redemption Road as daily posts. Currently, each of the stories are categorized as pages on the top of the blog. But, after much thought and a few comments I realized this can be confusing at times. So, in an effort to make things a little more user-friendly for future readers, I’m going to make each story a blog post that can be read in order from beginning to end.

I hope this helps.

If you would like to opt out of your subscription in order to avoid daily emails for the next few weeks I totally understand. I’ve been putting this off for a while, but I’m still hearing from new readers on a regular basis and I believe this will help others navigate the blog with ease.  I will also include a few updates along the way and I plan on finishing the Redemption Road series before the end of the year.

I am beyond thankful for the love and support we have received over the last two years.  I remain hopeful that what we went through has helped others find the courage and freedom needed in order to move on from abusive situations.  If you know of someone that may benefit from reading My Story, please feel free to share this information with them so that they may follow along each day as well. 

I’ll see ya here tomorrow…

Much Love,

Jana

Make Living on a Budget FUN!!

I bet you may have read the title to this entry and laughed…maybe even scoffed at the idea of a budget being fun.  I know I have for years.  Budgets are often constricting and provide very little room for shopping, entertainment or shopping.  Wait…did I already mention shopping?

A few months ago I began working hard to find ways to make our money stretch.  I’m a stay at home mom and I knew getting a full-time job was out of the picture. But, I also knew that with some creativity I could figure out ways for us to save money and cushion our income.  Let me just tell you I was shocked at how much we were able to save once I started implementing the use of coupons.  Not only have a I saved money, I have a pantry that is overflowing and enough beauty products to care for Cleopatra.

So…how did I get from saving up pennies for my favorite lip gloss to having an ample stockpile?  And, even more exciting than that…most of it was FREE!

Well, I took lessons from a seasoned couponer.  My friend Lacey spent weeks going over deals and sending me links to websites in order to get me started.  It was an answer to prayer and since starting this journey I have shopped more and spent less than ever before.  And, I have had a BLAST doing so.  It takes work, but for those of you that enjoy finding an unbelievable deal or have no problem with trying a few different name brands here and there…this will be a dream come true for you.

In order to help get you prepared for the new year I have included a few helpful blogs that deal specifically with using coupons.  They also post about amazing online deals and show you how to make the best use of your coupons.  My advice to you would be to pick one category at one store until you get the hang of things.  For instance, I started buying makeup and toiletries first.  We were out of almost everything and plus it was more fun for me to shop for mascara instead of researching who had the best deals on lettuce that week.  Eventually, once I got the hang of things, I began using coupons at the grocery store and even retail shops.  You would be surprised at how many discounts and coupons are available ALL THE TIME!!  For instance, during the month of December Hallmark released  coupon good for $5 off of any $5 purchase.  Well, they had wrapping paper on sale (2 rolls for $5.99)  and I was able to score two rolls of CUTE paper for $.99 + tax.  See, it’s stuff like that…fun stuff that makes it easy to be on a budget and it happens ALL THE TIME!

So, to get you started take a look at these helpful blogs.  You won’t regret inching your way out there once you see how far a dollar can stretch.  Plus, you will get some FABULOUS deals and high-end merchandise for less than you could ever imagine.

Good Luck and let me know how it goes!

Here are some great blogs to check out:

http://hip2save.com/couponnewbie#1

http://thefrugalfind.com/getting-your-finances-in-order-free-online-coupon-class/

http://www.couponingtodisney.com/category/couponing-basics/

 

 

The Journey From Stranded

The brisk Colorado breeze wrapped around me as I sat watching the snowflakes land one by one on the windshield.  I tugged at my gloves and tapped my feet to keep warm.  At my insistence, Barry was filling up the gas tank before our date.   Aside from being as cozy as a tin can, the beautiful blue 1977 Bronco was notorious for running out of fuel.  Blame it on forgetfulness or a broken gauge, but either way, there were many dates that ended with us walking hand in hand…carrying a single red gas can as the Bronco sat idle in the distance.

I loved that vehicle.

But I hated feeling stranded.

****

As I have been mulling over this entry, there has been an unsettled temperance in my writing.  Something I couldn’t quite place my finger upon until now.  The words “the journey from stranded” have bounced around in my mind all week.  I’ve wondered why a term so dark could somehow ring a bell of hope in my soul.  As if it were signaling the beginning of something beautiful and wildly adventurous!

Maybe it’s just the season, but the new year always makes me feel alive and refreshed.  I look forward to the blank slate that January 1st brings and this year is no different.  2010 was an intense time for Barry and myself.  His help as I started my blog went unseen, but he provided a steady stream of encouragement, love and strength in the midst of a very difficult year.  We had no idea the amount of support or backfire that would be received with each stroke of the keyboard.  For months, I prayed and carefully typed My Story, hoping that God would somehow make sense of everything we experienced in our early years of ministry.  All the while believing that change would come…if only in our own hearts.

Looking back I can see that writing openly about our experiences was the healing part of my journey.  I had to complete the final leg of my voyage…the emotional trek back to whole.  And it hurt…man it hurt a lot.  A piece of my heart was still stranded in dysfunction and gaining it back meant facing past mistakes, losing old friends, and making new ones in the process.   But, I can’t imagine feeling the freedom I do now, without taking those first few steps.  The same goes for many of you…you have been so brave to write and share your stories, struggles and victories.  Thank you for walking with me and championing me on towards a greater life.  Thank you for not giving up either, for not growing bitter…for not staying stranded.

My prayer is that just as 2010 will be remembered as the year of the journey for many of us, may 2011 bring with it the restoring, redemptive, joyful qualities that mark every great adventure!

 

Side Note about my blog:

A few weeks ago, I started feeling pretty good about my blog.  Much of the initial shock that surrounded my writings had dwindled and I felt as though life was returning to normal.  But, just as I was settling in for the Holidays a rumor was released online about a pastor Barry and I worked with at our former church.  Not just any pastor, a man we have known and loved for over a decade.  The news left me speechless, angry, defensive, but more than anything it made me want to know the truth.

As you can imagine curiosity over the situation escalated quickly and my blog received a number of visits in order to confirm the accusations.  At the time, I felt positive that they were false, but being so far removed from their lives…I couldn’t say for sure.  However, I didn’t want to be associated with the rumor mill that can so easily form online or endure the emotional strain that I knew would accompany the commotion.  So, in order to keep the integrity of my blog as well as my personal integrity, I shut down My Secret Life for a few weeks.

During that time Barry and I made a number of phone calls and sent some emails regarding the subject.  And after quite a bit of research we feel confident that the rumors of theft and physical abuse are far-reaching and not characteristic of a man we have known for over a decade.

If you have read my story, you know the emotional strain Barry and I lived under during our stint on staff at the same church.   We witnessed many lines that were crossed on a consistent basis and boundaries that were blurred as a result.  My concern continues to remain the damaging amount of control that congregational and staff members live under as a result of being asked to remain submitted to an authority figure that is abusive.  I feel that recent events only strengthen the need to call for the top two senior pastors resignations before more damage is done.