Dear You who’s disappointed by the church

Dear Brave Soul,

On behalf of the church as a fellow Believer, I just wanted to reach out and say I’m sorry.  Your pain and grief is seen and I’m sorry we didn’t allow space and time for you to grieve your loss.

And I’m even more sorry we fill the uncomfortable silence with Christian clichés.

You are so brave to walk through such painful circumstances and in our ignorance we say things like, “God never gives you anything you can’t handle.” Or as the tears are fresh in your eyes, we mumbled, “Everything happens for a reason.”

Yeah, I know those statements aren’t even Biblical, and yeah, I don’t understand why we keep on saying them except if maybe we’re afraid. Afraid of wounds weeping and afraid what that would require of us. Sometimes we don’t want to take time to wade through the details or listen to the deep ache of your heart because it’s messy and the truth of the matter is…we don’t have time for messy, and we would rather just fill the silence with statements rather than take the time to listen.

As if the statement, “God just needed another angel” serves as a Band-Aid.

I scratch my head in disbelief and wonder how we as the church have failed at comforting our brothers and sisters. How is it ok to say to a grieving parent who just lost an infant, “God just wanted them back.” As if we serve a selfish God that would rather have his children morn loss than be without someone. Tears emerge even as I type those words.

If we follow the life of Jesus, we can quickly see words don’t always bring forth healing.

See we don’t have to say anything. Explain anything, excuse anything. We have to acknowledge your pain. Because even though it’s uncomfortable for us to face the pain, the scars, the wounds of a fellow sister or brother, we bless you the most, without a sound.

The gift of being present and allowing the Holy Spirit to do the work is the best gift we can give a friend. Cultivating space and moving past the I’m fine is so valuable.

I slink back in my chair trying to find the words to say…

I’m sorry for giving you a Bible verse rather than just saying, “It’s okay.”

I’m sorry I didn’t allow you to cry and I ‘m sorry I thought you should have gotten over it quicker.

If only there were time for me to go back for a do-over.

There’s no shame in letting tears come. Or getting angry at a situation. Emotions are a gift, and after you release them, there’s healing and wholeness. Feeling emotions allows grace to pour in. Without them we become numb, and numbness cultivates bitterness creating an unplowable ground.

Jesus is the perfect example. In chapter 21 of John, we find the disciples going back to the logical thing after his death.

Simon Peter was the first to say, “I’m going fishing.” And the rest replied, “We’re coming with you.”

After following Jesus to his death and burial, the disciples were confused and worn-out. When they thought Jesus wasn’t coming back, they returned to what was comfortable to numb the pain they felt.

Jesus could have rebuked them, telling them they had no faith. Harshly saying, “How could you go back to fishing when you had walked me. Don’t you have faith to see the impossible?”

Instead, he cooked them a meal and looked into their eyes and connected with their hurt and disappointment, giving them space to feel.

What draws me in is how Jesus went a step further and prepared a fire to cook the fish and provided bread (because bread always makes us feel better), recognizing his disciples needed extra comfort.

“When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish lying on it, and bread” John 21:9.

It wasn’t the law He brought. He didn’t recite what they should or shouldn’t be doing. He didn’t scold them for not having enough faith and just going back to their old way of living. No. Jesus comforted. He extended grace. Not the law. He gifted them with his presence.

Just a snap of a finger and the fish could have been cooked and ready to go. Fast. Easy. Ready to eat without the fire. Jesus knew they needed not only food but his presence. He understood they longed for him to look them in the eye and say it’s going to be ok. And Jesus senses when you need to be comforted by his presence too. Without saying a word. He knows our deepest pain and sorrow. He knows our need because he delights in us.

We need you and your raw story in the body of Christ.

Because we need you, we will create space for you to experience his love. Taking the time and knowing it’s okay for there to be an uncomfortable silence.

This takes vulnerability. It requires us to be willing to get real with one another without hiding behind masks. This requires us to sit in uncertainty without throwing around Christian clichés and quick fix answers. I remember a few years ago I walked through a difficult season. Several people, I held dear said some hurtful words. An internal dialogue whispered lies, and I began to believe I was unworthy of real friendships. Questioning if I could ever trust anyone again; until God sent a friend. Eventually, I told her about those past wounds. She listened willing, not pointing a finger or offering answers. She helped carry my burden through prayer and the gift of her presence. Vulnerability sparked a process of God’s healing and forgiveness.

And when we simply sit close and listen a deep friendship is cultivated.

I didn’t expect that season. I hadn’t wanted the pain I experienced. Looking back, I know with a doubt in my mind:

God doesn’t run from pain and neither did my friend. Without her, I am not sure if I would be walking in purpose today.

I’m sorry for how alone you must have felt, and we know now God isn’t afraid to enter our brokenness, and we shouldn’t be scared to enter each other’s.