My Story: What Really Happened

I've finally decided to start blogging again. I mean, it sure has been long enough! Truth is, I haven't really been up to writing the past couple months because of a painful "church split" you could call it. My heart's been tossed around, broken and tossed around again in this situation. I'm sitting here, typing this to let you all know that I'm alive and breathing- barely- but my pulse is growing stronger.

The story I'm about to share is my story. It's true, it happened even though some may like to deny it. My goal in this isn't to hurt anyone or bash them. Here goes nothing. Here's my story.

I'm gonna be brief in this. No in depth details, I'm barely going to be scratching the surface.

I grew up in the same amazing, spirit-filled, Jesus-worshipping, tongue-speaking church my entire life. My aunt's the church Secretary, my parents were very involved in worship and children's ministry and anything they could do, they did. We were at the church nearly every day, whether it was for some volunteer deal, an event that we were participating in or just to visit our friends there.

And I loved every second of it! I didn't want to be doing anything else.

I went to camps, AWANA, you name it, I was in it. I got saved around the young age of 4 and received my prayer language around 7 years old. Then, when I was 11, my family went to Italy, and we grew closer as a family. Upon returning to America, we went back to my home church. It has changed quite a bit and we didn't feel as welcome, but after a year, things were back to normal. That was 2009.

The next two years brought many exciting opportunities, including a job at the church, a life-changing mission trip, 2 course-shifting leadership training weekends, a new found passion for music and photography. I also was able to lead worship for youth group and get to know some amazing people that changed me forever.

Katherine, I girl that I had known since before Italy became my best friend and sister and her older sisters became close confidants and big sisters. Actually, they still are. I got to know a girl, Grace, that completely changed my outlook on life, and she became another close friend, as did Cheyenne, someone I once thought of as an enemy. We're kind of like the 3 musketeers! Luke, the youth group drummer, became a big brother to me. That's something I really needed and still do need. He stills fills that roll. :) Howard and Karen, the youth leaders, became like second parents. I got to know Taylor, an awesome friend/sister at camp this year.

Life was great.

And then it crumbled.

One day a man asked my dad to go explain the trinity to someone we knew and he said he couldn't because he doesn't believe in it. (More on that later) Word got back to the pastor, he contacted my dad, met with him a twice and, long story short, my dad, mom, sister and I were stripped of all areas of influence- even coffee shop and babysitting- but my sister and I were allowed to remain on the youth group worship team as long as we didn't know what we believed. Yeah, we felt blackmailed. Funny thing? A lot of people that I know in the church believe the same thing my parents believe.

My parents were lied to and betrayed. Their friends abandoned them. The pastor literally told my mom that his doctrine was more important than my dad's heart. They had served faithfully for 22 years. No one, and I mean NO ONE stood up for my family. No friends, no leaders, no mentors. Those I trusted looked to other way and didn't want to hear or listen. That's what hurt the most. I felt completely alone. I was lied to and betrayed. As I write this, I still get tears in my eyes.

That said, there were a few that stuck by me and helped, supported and prayed for me. That was the worship team.

After months of hardship, betrayal, distrust and being looked down upon, my sister and I had to step down from the worship team. That was the hardest thing I've ever done. That was my family. Every single person on that team had become like brothers and sisters. That's probably what I miss most about my old church- the family I had there. I miss the close relationships that came from seeing each other at least 3 days a week and being forced to be authentic with each other. I miss growing with the 7 other wonderful, Godly people that encouraged each other on nearly a daily basis. I miss that... a ton.

We left the church.

I cried for weeks. I still do, to be perfectly honest. Last night, I was texting my best friend, Katherine, and by the time I was done asking for prayer and pouring my heart out, my pillow was wet... very wet.

I'm still friends with the people I mentioned. We're not as close and nothing breaks my heart more. I used to accidentally call the pastor "Uncle" when I was talking about him, but that trust was shattered. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust  certain people again. If God wants me to, then He'll make a way. This July/August, I went to camp at our old church and God restored relationships and trust with many people, including the youth leader. In fact, this past week, I got to visit Epic Youth and I loved it! (Luke, if you're reading this, I think you made me feel most welcome. And thank you, girls, (you know who you are) for the ride! Thank you! :) )

As for the "different" beliefs, my parents believe that God manifests himself in many ways (i.e., a pillar of smoke, a burning bush, I could go on and on...) but, as the Bible says, God is One. The pastor told my parents that God is three, separate individual persons. My parents don't believe in the preexistence of Christ, while the pastor does.

Looking back, I wonder where I'd be if I had been able to stay where I was. I also see things that could've been better. For example, don't jump to conclusions. That's what a lot of people did. We were compared to other religions, we were called heretics and our very salvation was questioned. THAT hurt. Getting the whole story straight from the person it happened to is something that is VITAL.

I really wish someone would have fought for us. I don't mean "knock-down, drag-out" kind of fighting, but I wish someone would've cared enough to ask questions and protect us. Protect my sister and I. That didn't happen at all. We're taught to stand up for one another, but when push comes to shove, it doesn't happen. I wish that the youth leader would've taken a stand for us. I wish he would've done something about what was going on. He knew us. He knew our family and, yet, we were betrayed. I wish I had had someone to talk to. I wish someone would listen.

I guess I'm writing all this as a call to action. Stand up for your friends. Youth pastors, respect, listen, pray and FIGHT for your kids. Let them know that they mean something to you. Don't just say "you don't have to do this, but if you do...". That will only drive them away from you. Leaders, let your students pour out their broken hearts to you. Be a safe place for them! Encourage each other, help each other, love each and most importantly PRAY FOR EACH OTHER!

As of today, I can stand here and tell you that there is a God. There are people that love you even when your closest friends ignore you. God isn't in a building, He's in you. Even when you're brokenhearted and at the end of your rope you can hold on because God will bring you through the storm. I promise, it's true. More importantly, He promises.

If you don't agree everything with everything I have here, that's okay. Let me asure you, everything I've mentioned happened.

To those of you that I mentioned hurt me, I forgive you.


Here's a song that I can really relate to: