I have spent the last two weeks waiting to see if my cancer had recurred. Surgery was required, and I’ve been recuperating since. It turns out that the cancer is still in remission. In its place is a very rare condition that causes inflammation, necrosis, and fibrosis, in addition to the pain that has been part and parcel of my days for months.
All of this uncertainty took me to places I had not anticipated, and excavated hurt I had long since put away. Never one to be dramatic about physical things, this time felt different.
This time, I didn’t have my Jimmy. I didn’t want our Austin to have to walk through cancer treatment and uncertainty, having already lost his best friend. Not knowing what might comprise the months ahead, I realized, anew, how different my life is now than when I was first diagnosed. Back then, helpers were abundant. Love was lavish. Concern was tangible. Support overflowed and prayers were plentiful.
This time, though, there would be none of that, at least not from the majority of those we had loved for the entirety of our ministry. The phone would be as silent as ever, not because truth was sought or given by those who turned away, but because it was hidden by those who found protecting themselves easier than leading with integrity.
This is what my life as a widow has been, and what it would have remained, had the cancer returned. No sudden display of care or concern. Just an echo of what used to be.
And yet, this is not just my story. Too many know this banishment. That is the reason for this post, by the way. Not to reopen old wounds. Gratefully mine are healed, though scars remain. This fresh reminder compels me for one reason only: to let you know that you are not alone in your ache and disillusionment.
The One who surely weeps along with you loves you more than you can possibly imagine. You, like far too many, are the collateral damage of gatekeeping and self-preservation within ministry, within places that should have been safe. When power becomes the prize, people become expendable. When the spotlight awakens ambition but not authenticity, truth becomes inconvenient, and light becomes a threat.
But God, the same God they invoke to justify harm, is also the God who heals when neither apology nor acknowledgement come. He sees what has been hidden, and loves what been discarded. He is not bound by the actions of His spokesmen because His mercy reaches the places their silence refuses to go.
While their obfuscation remains a testament to how far image can stray from truth, thankfully, my heart bears a different witness: that healing comes anyway. That love finds its way through the ruins. That forgiveness does not excuse what happened, but it does free us from its bondage.
To those who have been wounded by the very hands that once blessed you, I see you. God sees you. Your El Roi did not miss a single thing. What was meant to silence you will not have the final word. The Church may fail you, but Jesus never will. There is no wall so high, no reputation so carefully guarded, that His light cannot break through.
If you have been told that your pain threatens the “work of God,” know this: honesty never harms what is truly of Him. Truth never destroys a ministry. It salvages it. Because when leaders choose transparency over self-preservation, confession over cover-up, and humility over hierarchy, the power of God is unleashed, not diminished. The Spirit is quenched by pretense, but activated by repentance.
In the end, what counts for eternity are not polished images or platforms sought or carefully curated narratives. Those are the things that will ultimately burn and be revealed for what they were all along—wood, hay, and stubble—the fruit of the flesh, not the works of the Spirit. What will remain are the sacrifices of pride crucified and honesty dispensed. Of love displayed and souls redeemed. What reaps eternal dividends are the whispered prayers of the broken, the truth told at great cost, and the faith that survives in the dark.
So, abundantly blessed by how God has grown me in the breaking, and loved by both those who stayed, and those He has blessed me to know since, I move forward, tribe smaller, but heart expanded. I love more deeply and rejoice more readily. I carry both loss and light. I bask in the healing that continues, in a God who restores beyond recognition, and in the assurance that He still makes beauty from the ashes we thought would be our ruin.
🌿 I wrote this for those who didn’t walk away, but were cast aside. For those who still love Jesus but were wounded by those who acted in His name. For hearts that struggle to believe again, yet still trust that God’s love is bigger than the failures of His representatives.
I wrote this because truth-telling is not bitterness, and because honesty cannot harm what is of God. It simply reveals it.
This is my story, my reluctant testimony, and my prayer for anyone still finding their way toward healing. You are not alone, beloved. Your pain will not be wasted but redeemed, and with Him, your greatest days are yet to be.
#healing #mended