It’s 15 months on. As I reflect on all that’s happened, it feels like I’ve been picked up in a whirlwind, battered and dropped. The broken bones of hurt and sorrow are slowly healing, and love and forgiveness are apparent and flow without resentment or bitterness. I praise God so much for this, his love has led the way and covers so much.
But in other ways I’m struggling more than I care to admit. I am finding it hard to come to terms with the way we left our church family. The sense of shame and banishment still hurt like a knife wound.
I know I’m still grieving. Eighteen years feels like a lifetime and just can’t be got over. So many friendships, so many memories, so many experiences with no closure. No tying up of loose ends; no goodbyes; Just running and hiding with shame and fear.
Acceptance is hard. I’m struggling and fighting and suffocating. Sin has cost us dear, yet to dwell on our failings is to deny the grace and forgiveness that we have in Jesus.
This grief will eventually lessen and acceptance will come, but meanwhile I pray that the church we love will heal and grow and flourish. I pray that God will bless them more abundantly than we can ask or think for his glory. I look forward to that day when all offences will be forgotten and Jesus our precious saviour will be in view.
It may take a long time to feel fixed, it may take me a long time to accept the hurt that has been caused, but I pray that I will be able to leave the shame at the cross without repeatedly going back and picking it up again. It’s only then that I will be able to move on.