This morning was chaotic. We were late for church, and I was trying to get my daughter’s messy hair into a quick braid. As I combed through one of her tangles, she tensed up and yelled, “Ow, ow, ow!” I quickly kissed her head and said, “You’re fine,” as I rushed out the door to finish getting ready. She followed me out and tugged on my dress. As I turned around, my 3-year-old looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “No, I’m not fine. It hurts.”
This is a challenging topic to write about because it is so personal, but that’s also what makes it so important. Sometimes the church hurts us, and that pain can directly affect the way we see religion, relationship, and God Himself. Depending on the situation, “the church” could represent a physical place, or it could mean the church as a body of believers.
Most Christians believe that healing happens even today, and many of us have either been healed or have known someone who has been healed. But how many of us also know someone who wasn’t? How many of us have been left confused, disheartened, and heartbroken after praying for healing that never came?
When I was 18, I was in a car accident, flipping my car across an interstate. I walked away unhurt, but I began to suffer from frequent, debilitating migraines. In the years since, I’ve tried everything I could find to help them, but I always ended up in tears and in bed. Sleep was the only way to get rid of them, even though it often interfered with work and my social life. Sometimes they would last for days rather than hours. I would cry and pray and lay in bed with my fists pressed into my eyes trying to stop the pain.