Sacred Exit, Silent Chains

The four walls were closing in — of the church that is. Everyone she had ever spoken with had been hurt there by abusive leadership; her own cousin was kicked out of the church. Even the concept of that was disheartening for her — how could someone be kicked out of the place that God desired to draw sinners closer to? She was disgusted; at her husband for even asking her to come back, but even more-so at herself for agreeing to it.

Jamie had left this specific church around 2018; although she had found Jesus there, she had grown tired of the loneliness that grew like a weed within her. Week after week, she had grown accustomed to speed walking through the crowd of superficial college students and middle class citizens. She was tired of not feeling seen; hadn’t anyone noticed the sadness in her eyes? The struggle of an isolated college student only seemed to grow after joining this church community. Every Sunday she’d run up the stairs of the movie theater where church was hosted, and whip out her statistics homework. Even with God, she knew something was missing in that place.

Her best friend had invited her to a new ministry. It was full of African folk praying for hours on end, initiating a process of what was called ‘deliverance.’ Jamie wasn’t sure what all the technical terms meant, but she knew between her struggle with binge eating chips from the vending machines of her dorm, and masturbating in her apartment when she felt lonely, something had ot change.

Ever since she was a young girl with pigtails and glasses, she felt a lack of control. She felt the pain of her lack of control when her mom was beat by her stepdad mercilessly as he got drunk on Vodka and Whisky every night. She felt the lack of control when they had to move from apartment to apartment on Chicago’s south side. She felt the lack in her relationships with men, as she continuously felt overpowered by them. Her faith was the one thing she felt the power to choose; what could be the harm in attending this new ministry?

Jamie’s Uber dropped her off at what appeared to be an elementary school in the middle of nowhere. This couldn’t possible have been what her friend was inviting her to. Jamie had always known ministries to be well decorated and flashy, with attractive greeters, and fancy marketing tactics… how was this a real church? Jamie reluctantly went into the school in search of a friendly face. She was greeted by a slew of beautiful brown people, with wild hair and bright smiles.

Within this ‘church’ was rows of white fold-out chairs, contrasted upon a red carpet that appeared to be duct taped to the ground. Flags representing every nation lined the walls, as a short black man in a suit lead prayer near an overhead projector, like the ones most millennials had in their high school math classes. Perplexed yet intrigued, Jamie caught sight of her friend, and sat down quietly, listening to the sounds of groaning and travailing in prayer; a sound that seemed both painful and liberating.

Prayer went on for what felt like hours. They prayed for the souls of the nations. They prayed for the needs of the community and the church. They prayed for the lonely and destitute. They asked God to cover the leaders in the church. They prayed for the singles to’ receive their husbands;’ a concept almost foreign to Jamie; why would someone need to pray to ‘receive’ a man? Couldn’t they just go out and find him?

Jamie had never felt so curious and empowered, so connected to community, so connected to the prayer warrior within; it brought her heart joy to lift up others, while also learning to biblically pray for herself; she knew it couldn’t be her last time in this place. Jamie knew her presence wouldn’t be missed much at her first church; she silently crept away into the new prayer ministry, and unsurprisingly, no one had ever checked on her once she left. She had found a new home. A new sense of control.

And yet, after a couple years of praying to ‘receive’ a husband, a concept she learned actually had helped her to grow in her femininity as a woman, a new man had found her; one that had cautiously prayed about her for years from her original church. Reluctantly, she head back into the former ministry as his lawfully wedded wife.

Unsure of what journey would lie ahead of them, Jamie entered back into her old church. Since leaving, she had experienced a new sense of freedom and identity from her own ways. No longer the shy college girl from Chicago, she entered back into this place as a new woman. She had committed to stay with her minister husband in this church to be a safe haven for the youth and folks that were lost in such a system, but to her dismay, things weren’t that simple.

“I can’t do this anymore…” 

Sooner than later, Jamie realized that she overcommitted for the sake of being his wife. She could no longer sit back and watch the pastor’s wife manipulate the members with her domineering demands of serving without question. Confused, her husband had to really pray, although they fought about this from the beginning. The plan he had laid out for their lives was simple; stay in the ministry for the next 5 years, and then pray about where God could be leading them next. They had agreed this was an acceptable compromise, but Jamie couldn’t deny the feeling in her gut that they had to leave soon, or something bad was going to happen. Her husband would agree to leave, as long as it could be peaceable. 

Jamie didn’t neglect to remind her husband in their weekly check-ins of the unhappiness that welled within her the longer they stayed — why was he so committed to leaving peaceably from a place that clearly didn’t care about they damage they had permitted in the lives of others? Once she had convinced her husband, conversations were had with the head pastors — a youthful black couple, with grey hairs to match the stresses of poorly shepherding God’s flock. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just offended? Often times people leave, but they always come back! Know that you’re always welcomed home.” 

Jamie sneered at the smug nature of the church’s head pastor. They’d never be back as long as she could help it. 

Jamie and her husband were finally able to leave the church. Her heart lept for joy knowing that she’d no longer have to wrestle with knowing the dark secrets of the ministry’s tendency to dismiss concerns, and gaslight it’s victims into thinking they just had offense problems. 

What Jamie couldn’t escape though, was her issues with control. Even upon leaving the church, she was left with the remnants of the way she begrudgingly treated her husband for not leaving sooner. She was left with the remnants of being sexually abused in her youth, still not knowing how to disagree with people respectfully. She had one the battle of leaving a toxic environment, but couldn’t escape the inner work she had to do within herself. She had spiritualized her issues for so long; believing that her soul issues simply came from demons. Now that they were out of this toxic environment, she could begin the real work.