"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!
You travel over land and sea to win a single convert,
and when he becomes you,
you make him twice as much a son of hell as you are."
Matthew 23:15

Injustice, I was tired of it. As Popeye said, "I've had all I can stand, and I can't stands no more!" The past year the reality of how the church oppressed certain groups of people within the body created an anger in me I could no longer control. The anger I experienced as I saw people being hurt consumed me. How much longer would it go on?

Leaving work, I turned the radio on to my favorite radio station. I was tired and not looking forward to the responsibilities facing me once I arrived home. The music on the Christian station provided the encouragement I needed with its soothing message of love and hope.

My car radio stayed tuned to this station and had since 1975. More times than I can count, their choice of songs ministered to my pain or simply helped me praise the God who created me and saved my soul. However, on this particular day, it changed. Instead of soothing my soul, the wound was deepened and anger overwhelmed me.

The voice coming over the airwaves was the voice of my pastor. Although I cannot quote him verbatim, his message went something like this: "Friends, what is your idea of a pastor? Do you think his job is to counsel or do visitation? Not according to the word. God’s word says in 1 Timothy 5:17 to ‘Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching.’ It also says in 2 Timothy 4:2, ‘Preach the Word.’ Lay person, let your preacher preach. Let him do what the Lord would have him to do, let him preach."

No matter what I did or where I went all week, his words were with me. That commercial played over and over. I was astounded. Questions constantly ran through my mind, like: "What is the difference between a pastor and a shepherd?" It was hard for me to imagine him as the same man I met three years earlier. At that time he seemed to be full of vision, compassion, and understanding. He was a man who cared for people.

When he first came to our church, I was going through a time of spiritual and emotional turmoil. For years I felt a sense of "calling" on my life, and it burned in me until it was impossible for me to rest. Everywhere I went, from the grocery store to Sunday School Class, people shared their stories with me. Most of the people were women who had experienced sexual abuse or were raised in alcoholic homes. Many times I recognized the pain in their eyes without them saying a word. So, I made an appointment to speak to him shortly after his arrival at our church.

It was easy to talk to him. I found myself telling him the history of my abuse, as well as my divorces. He listened intently to my story and seemed genuinely filled with compassion and understanding. He even shared a story of someone in his family who divorced at an early age. When I told him that I felt God was calling me to minister to women in pain, he stated that he was "in agreement" with me.

We talked about training, schooling, and books to read, and then we prayed together. He suggested that I not attend a school where I would be taught "secular" counseling. He felt I needed good, sound, biblical teaching.

Earlier, in August, I was accepted in a basic Chaplaincy program at a local hospital as a layperson. I was humbled as they allowed me the same privileges as a person who graduated from seminary. When I shared the information with him, I could tell he was uncomfortable about my doing this. He even advised me to be "careful."

Shortly after talking with him, I heard an advertisement on the radio about a "school for Christian counseling" based in a local church. I checked it out and enrolled. I was exhilarated as I felt I was well on my way to being all God created me to be. The preacher even allowed me to lead a divorce recovery seminar in the church. Within weeks I was counseling seven women one on one.

Sadly, it was short lived. A crisis occurred in our family about the same time money ran out. I quit the program and the classes. However, the counseling sessions continued. I was amazed as I watched God work through me to heal the marriage of two people I cared about.

Now, here I was, still searching for God’s will in my life. Rarely did the pastor’s path cross mine. Listening to the radio spot I remembered the times we talked and prayed together, and I hurt. What happened? Where did I make a wrong turn? What would make such a kind, thoughtful, wise, and considerate young man go from one extreme to another? Drastic changes were taking place in our church. Changes I was having a hard time coping with.

The drive home gave me ample time to reflect on my search for God’s will. The time spent as a lay Chaplain and in class had changed me inside out. Those two vehicles of learning opened a new understanding of God for me, and at the same time they brought confusion. The two years between now and then were filled with bleak memories. Yet, I knew in the deepest realm of my being that God had allowed each and every circumstance into my life for a purpose.

We are a blended family. My husband, Roger, had two children from his previous marriages, and so did I. We are in no way the "typical" Christian family, but we are Christians. When Roger’s children were eleven and nine, they discovered some "XX" rated videos, watched them, and began experimenting with each other. Their activities were kept a secret for years. When I came on the scene, the truth came out and counseling was sought.

The heartache of seeing two children with such a vast amount of damage done to them left me emotionally, physically, and spiritually drained. Their damage eventually damaged my daughter and we both felt trapped. No matter how much we sought it, we had no pastoral support. We were left on our own, with only secular counselors to turn to, with the exception of Focus on the Family.

We attended church faithfully and participated in all activities with zeal, at least those we were allowed to participate in. We sang in the choir and the children were fairly active in the youth group, well two of them were.

No matter what happened in our lives, the underlying question seemed to be, "Where is God in all of this" ? A constant reality in my life was how people not raised in the church were looked upon and treated. People from divorced families; those raised in alcoholic homes, and others who were sexually abused had wounds that were so deep they reached the very depth of their soul. I discovered most of these people were like myself; we needed a sympathetic ear and a gentle hand to guide us to God’s mercy seat. Sadly, this is rarely experienced.

I watched over the years as some very special people (of which I am one) were evangelized, brought into the church and expected to live pure, holy lives, and forget the past. Yet, my past was constantly brought to my attention as I was denied opportunities to serve in certain capacities. The paradox of sermons being preached, urging people to serve and then not allowing those people to serve, grew inside me like a cancer. I screamed from the deepest depth of my being, "God where are you?"

The more I studied God’s word, the more I saw the truth that in Christ our sins were "cast away." Psalm 103:12 says, "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Why then, what was the deal? Why were we, and hundreds of other people like us, constantly being cast out? My soul sorrowed over the people who hungered for the love of God, but because of who they were "before Christ" were made to feel less than human. I was drawn to these people like a magnet, never being accepted by the "holy club" of the church.

For eighteen years I was uncomfortable witnessing to people I knew needed the Lord. I often wondered why? When God revealed Matthew 23:15 to me I understood. Since accepting Christ as my Savior, I lived in a worse hell than the one in which I was raised. In this hell I was an outcast, unclean and unloved. I felt like an escapee from hell most of the time. Why should it be any different for them? More times than I like to admit, I wanted to turn and run as fast as I could from God and the church, but a power beyond myself prevented it from happening.

The God I heard preached from the pulpit and taught in Bible study was a God who loved people and desired a relationship with them. He wanted them to come to him openly, repenting of their sins, and allowing him to make them a "new creation in Christ." Yet, in my daily routine of trying to relate to "church" people this was not lived out. Instead, each time I experienced the joy of His love and wanted to serve through the church, I was denied access.

As I sought God’s will for my life and allowed Him free reign in all of me, I heard His voice. A beautiful, still, soothing voice from within me said, "Trust me and tell your story." My trip is filled with rocky terrain. My travels led me through pain and turmoil, but I experienced joy and gladness as I found the heart of my loving Father.