Shattered by the Church Part Two

In Part One (Shattered by the Church), I shared how our world collapsed under the weight of false narratives spread about my husband inside the church and how to spot unsafe Christians. This next chapter is about our journey through the aftermath — what we learned through the loss, and why the Church desperately needs to relearn grace for its leaders.

After we were terminated, multiple families within the church plant sought out the elders, desperate to understand why and how this happened. When they couldn’t get any real answers, they left. While we deeply appreciate their loyalty and willingness to take a good, hard look behind the curtain, we were shocked by the number of people we have never heard from. People we had done ministry with for five years, who we considered our family, didn’t even reach out once. Not a phone call. Not a text. Not even a goodbye in the driveway. Total silence. I understand it can feel awkward, or that sometimes people truly don’t know what to say. But still…we can do better, church. We must.

One of my dearest friends still attends that church; she was at my house several times the week it all happened and remains one of my dearest friends to this day. I never wanted anyone to feel like they had to choose sides—they don’t.

We still love the Lord, but we feel like we don’t belong in any church. It’s like we are caught in some strange loop where nothing fits or feels right. Church doesn’t feel like the healing sanctuary away from the world that it should be because it’s the place where we received some of our deepest wounds.

Since our termination, our family of 6 had to move and start over again. I recently sat across from my four teenagers and asked how they were doing, now a year and a half after the day their Dad was fired. Each one is in a different place. We have worked hard to cultivate a home that is a safe place for all the feelings. One of my children said quietly, “My heart is broken—and it will never be whole again.” The church, and the people inside it, are where his sweet and gentle heart was wounded at the tender age of 11. How do we even begin to reckon with that as parents? How do we help our children process the pain caused by the very people who were supposedly our church family? I know we’re not alone in asking. 

We personally know of three other pastors just in our state who experienced oddly similar situations within months of our termination. These are wonderful, God-fearing men who now sell insurance, teach, or work construction—not because they lost their calling – but because the church drove them out. My husband has had many churches reach out to him about open pastoral positions, but we just can’t do it. Steve said to me recently, “If I worked anywhere else—say, as a teacher or in sales—and someone got mad at me, it would affect me...but in ministry, when someone gets mad at me, it affects you and the kids. And I’m not willing to put our family through that ever again.” We believed we could make a difference. And I still believe that we did. But the cost was far greater than we ever imagined.

While I don’t have statistics to quote, I can say this: we know far too many good pastors who have walked away. There are many churches of every size across the nation without pastors because those who lead with humility and integrity often become the easiest targets. If you’re a church elder, a member, or simply someone who loves Jesus, please hear this: this is not an isolated event. Ministry should be a place of refuge, not ruin — for everyone, including pastors. Certainly, some situations and sins are perhaps disqualifying — but “blind spots” should never be a reason for removal.

Somewhere along the way, people forget that pastors are people too. They need space to be human, to wrestle, to have blind spots, and to grow. They need the same deep wells of grace that they spend their lives pouring out for everyone else. If the people who preach grace can’t safely receive it themselves, something is deeply broken in the Church. Being in vocational ministry has become a battleground. Instead of uniting, believers are wounding each other in… Jesus’ name, and satan is applauding from the sidelines.

While the betrayal still hurts, the Lord is unwavering in His love for us, and I will always cling to that. The Lord didn’t rush me to hurry up and heal; He simply sat with me in it. And piece by piece, He began to remind me that His character hadn’t changed, even if His people had wounded us.

If you’ve experienced this kind of pain, please know: you are not alone. As a former pastor’s wife and now a counselor, I understand the heartbreak that can come from serving in ministry. I’ve sat in the silence after the storm, wondering where God was in the wreckage. And I’ve also seen His healing hand in the quiet rebuild. If you’re carrying wounds from church hurt or burnout, I’m here—and I would be honored to walk with you toward healing, hope, and restoration.