I used to be far more prolific in my writing and in keeping up.
But I’m tired now.
I feel like I’m unravelling most of the time. Hymns I used to love remind me of faces and events that leave me hurt and empty.
I try to read and study like I used to but my heart isn’t in it.
There is something about a public free-for-all condemnation that leaves a person broken. My former circles either took part in the stoning or stood by and watched it happen. And that leaves a person bruised on the side of the road.
Many of you know what I mean.
And now I feel empty, just waiting for something – but I don’t know what.
I enjoy my job and my coworkers. I feel useful. But it is physically exhausting to run a kitchen.
And when I get home, I remember the former days when I used to be interesting and witty and had things to say – but I mostly now just feel empty.
I feel like all of my theological and philosophical systems have left me battered and broken, and then I realize that those same systems have been crushing the weak underfoot for centuries.
It was the Reformed/Presbyterian system that justified slavery and still does.
It is the Reformed Presbyterian system that leaves women without a voice.
It is the Reformed Presbyterian system that teaches parents that their children are vipers in diapers and need to have their will broken by physical violence.
And those of you still in the system will say, “Not everyone. There are a lot of good people”. And there are. I know some.
But they still send their money to Greenville Seminary. They still support those who have bowed the knee to Doug Wilson. Money still flows to those who cause the little ones to stumble and teach others to do it as well.
They still sit quietly while children are beaten until blood runs down their legs and wives are abused and 11 year old girls are forced to face their rapist and “forgive them” because they are just so so sorry now.
And every time I tried to write about it, I was rebuked for attacking God’s Church – in huge capital letters. As if God approved the deeds that they did in the dark.
That was the system that I loved and embraced. I thought that the hatred and the violence and the arrogant “us vs the world” was an anomaly.
Then I saw that it was the rule. There is something there that causes rage and anger and fear.
There is something in the system that would cause the New England Puritans to banish families in the middle of winter to die in the snow because they were Baptists.
There is something in the system that demands that some people are enslaved and put in their place.
There is something in the system that says that I am worthy to partake of the body and blood of Christ but you are not since you have not answered all of my questions to my satisfaction.
There is something in the system that sets up a barrier between humans and salvation – only some can enter. You can not.
There is something in the system that says, “God hates the likes of you.”
Every sermon I ever heard about John 3:16 was about how God didn’t REALLY love everyone – and most of the time was on what the world means and how it means people like me and not people like you, because God couldn’t possibly love people like you.
There is something in the system that causes intense fury at the thought that maybe the wrong sort of people might be in heaven.
And now I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’m tired. I hear the stories and I want to go back in time to the little ones who were crushed and broken and left dead at the threshold and bring them the love of Jesus.
And I tried to do that, but now I am also broken and tired and empty and don’t even know what to say anymore.
Jesus said, “Come to me, you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” So I hold to that.
And Jesus also said
“Come out from among them
And be separate, says the Lord.
Do not touch what is unclean,
And I will receive you.”
And so I can no longer be a part of those circles. As long as Greenville Seminary and Southern Baptist Seminary and Masters Seminary are sending out their priests of Ba’al, all I can do is flee and urge the rest of you to flee as well.
It is an ugly time for the church. Across the street, I found some people of God who have not yet bowed the knee, and for that I rejoice. I walk over with my family on Sunday. I sing in the choir. I hear the liturgy. I hear about Jesus and his love.
And so I’ll sit and wait for greener pastures.
And I will sing. And cook. And try to make life a little easier for the people I work with and live with.
And I know that Jesus won’t let me go. I just maybe need to unravel for a bit.
My Only Comfort 
This is going to sound trite, but I mean it in the most sincere way possible, please hang in there.
For all our sakes, I hope things get better. I the mean time I’ll sing too, and kiss my grandbabies, and enjoy the fall colors.
Same. To all of it. Just. So. Tired.
Same. To all of it. Just. So. Tired.
Someone once told me that you can’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t know then with the information you have now…or something like that. Life is about constantly growing and always learning something new. You know more now than you did then. That’s progress.
Your writing is always so raw and real and relatable. I’ve been struggling to put into words where I’m at with my feelings and thoughts regarding church….you know why. But you’ve described exactly what I’m feeling. I feel like I’m bruised on the side of the road. Part of me wants to go to church, but part of me no longer feels safe there…at any church. I’ve considered asking if I can go to children’s church instead of the adult service because I know that a background check is done on every worker who has any contact with kids. I know they keep their kids safe, which makes me feel safe. But I haven’t asked because I feel stupid. So, I avoid church….or work on Sunday or on Saturday night so that I’m too tired Sunday morning. Maybe like you said, we both need rest…rest in Jesus. Thank you Sam.
I don’t have anything pithy, poignant or profound to say.
I hear your words. I feel your pain. I see you sitting there. I say “come quickly Lord Jesus” every day.
You have been a refuge for so many people – myself included. Providing that refuge didn’t come cost free.
I know that one day you will reap your reward. But waiting for that day is long. And hard.
I love the beautiful people and precious moments in my own life. But I’m still an outcast. Struggling financially. And justice feels like little more than a word in a book. And yes, VERY tired. Multiple decades tired.
I can commiserate. I can say that I’m so sorry. I wish I had more.
You are one of the good, dear, beloved people that makes God’s kindness, benevolence and love feel real. You have been so much more than an internet message can say.
Thank you. ♥️
Thank you so much for sharing. Thank you for being a light in the darkness, in these ugly times.
I’m also struggling as I see most Evangelicals in my own country bowing their knees to the ruling party that’s being insensitive to the lives of the poor and needy, insensitive to the elderly, etc. (but since this govt is “anti-woke” and “defends Christianity” that’s what matters to them). And some of them also denying or even justifying the oppression native people suffered (and keep suffering even today), among other things. I’m part of a ministry I joined a couple of years ago with enthusiasm and love for serving the Lord (after a long season of struggling), but I see them slowly going towards that direction and it makes me hopeless. I’m praying for wisdom and direction.
I’m thankful to be surrounded with a couple of brothers and sisters in Christ that see the evil as it is. But it gets tiring and draining, as I am even struggling to read the Bible. I’ll join in the waiting as well, and enjoy the simple things in life. I’ll also remember Jesus won’t let me go. Psalms 37 and 73 are really comforting in this season.
Praying for you and your family as well.
You sound still exhausted. It takes a long time to get over trauma. I wish I could think of the mane of the missionary (?) who wrote that he could hardly think; all he could do was to rest, so he was going to do that “like a little child.” Sounds like a good plan.
I would highly recommend that you listen to Kevin Thompson at Beyond the Fundamentals. You can watch his videos on You Tube.
I feel this so deeply, Sam. I’m in a similar place many days. With you in it.
Been there. Wait. Rest in His bosom as the disciple whom Jesus loved. Be embraced (as in Song of Solomon). Sing the metrical psalms from 1-150. Sing from beginning right through (Find tunes on sermon audio or make up your own) sing them morning, noon & night. The Lord will bless you with these ABUNDANTLY. You will find you are not alone. His people have been where you’re at. Rest. Wait. The wolves are active, there is a great battle right now in the congregations. We see the dark side but look ahead, remember we already have the victory.
Wait. Rest. Nothing is wasted, your labour was not in vain. The Lord is using you even now. The sanctification is painful but you will come forth as gold. Keep your eye on Christ – ignore the waves. He loves you. Focus / meditate on the love of the Father, the Son. The fruit of the Holy Spirit will come. Praying for you.
Love to you my dear brother.
Sue.
I attend Presbyterian church regularly, to keep my family happy. They don’t know that I’m empty. I want the fellowship that everyone talks about but just find lots of cold shoulders. I used to be very involved in all church activities – but people are cruel. Perhaps I was also cruel, back in the day, when I was more involved. Maybe God has put me in a place to just sit and contemplate my past and rely on Him to take care of the future. I no longer let doctrine or theology cloud my thinking. In my mind, those are the arts of the cruel……guess I’ll just sit here and talk to Jesus until I get to fly away home.
I get that
I’m not a minister, but I can relate to all of that. Remember that we’re not the only ones who have been through times like these. The Old Testament prophets were among them; various social reformers during the Middle Ages; and two-three generations ago, there were swastikas proudly displayed in European churches.
Times like these in our part of the world is what separates the wheat from the chaff, to use a Biblical expression.
I get so much from your writing, Sam, thank you. That emptiness is hard to acknowledge, and it can take years to fully account for the level of spiritual exploitation and cruelty you’ve experienced. I’m 15 years out and still learning. Christ knows, though!