As most of my readers know, I left a church I loved several years ago after preaching and teaching there for 23 years.

I left because I followed Jesus right into officiating the marriage of two of my dearest young friends. Two of the best people I know: Kind, genuine, faithful, humble, loving women … who loved Jesus and each other.

I left because I could no longer watch a church (any church!) hurt young, faithful hearts. I just couldn't be a part of it. Instead of wounding these young women, I wanted to be a part of fanning their faith and their love into flame.

So I resigned. I officiated their wedding. I found a new church.

And I have written my fair share of posts about how this has impacted my life.

But now it is one of my young friend's turn.

Here is the tiniest part of her story. Posted with her permission, of course.

Oh church, it's time to stop the hurt.

Ally's story:

I really don’t talk about this.

Maybe because I am still processing. Maybe because I don’t know the “right” words. Or maybe because I think the words I choose won’t be able to explain the my depth of the hurt.

After 24 years of active involvement in the church, I cannot get myself to step back into a place that once meant community, sanctuary, and connection.

A place where I worshipped alongside what I thought were the best people I could meet.

Where I led small groups, pointed teams, and at one point spent over half the weeknights.

Where I grew up, healed, and came to know my Jesus.

Church is where I met my lifelong friends, mentors, and the love of my life.

I was surrounded by so many people who loved Jesus and wanted to love their community well. I thought I was set.

…then I posted my engagement on social media.

My engagement to my beautiful wife. Another woman.

A woman who fiercely loves Jesus.

A woman who chooses to spend her life worshiping Him and leading others to do the same.

A woman who has more grace in her pinky finger than I could ever hope to possess.

A woman who worked in the church.

[Alice here: At this point in the story, both these young women were ostracized, put under a microscope, removed from ministries, placed in the back row, given certain restrictions on what they could say or do, talked about in "meetings" and "task forces," etc. The pain I witnessed in their spirits is inexplainable.]

So, the place that I once called home turned into a place of alienation, rejection, and division.

A place that I cannot find Jesus in anymore.

I trust you will let that last sentence sit in your soul for awhile …

That's the price. Right there, that's the price.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash