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To say I’ve experienced church hurt would be an understatement.

For context, I’ve been to armed conflict in the Middle East three times. Years of my life were spent there. And still—church hurts-it feels like combat.

When I was a kid, my family was kicked out of a legalistic church. I was too young to understand the drama or the Bible verses being used to justify it. I didn’t know who was “right” or “wrong.” I just knew it hurt.

As a young soldier, I was insolent toward a chaplain—an Army pastor—and he removed me from a service. I was immature, blind to my own faults, and only saw his reaction. I didn’t understand what was really happening, but it still hurt.

After that, I wanted nothing to do with the church. I was done with their “truth,” their “better than you” attitude, their Bible-thumping parties. I told myself I’d worship Jesus however I wanted.

But if I’m honest…
I always knew that if I really needed something, I could call those same hypocrite church people.

Still, I stayed away. Far away.

Then something changed.

Jesus found me.

Not the Jesus I wanted—the one with many paths, many names, many versions of truth that fit neatly into my preferences. Not that Jesus.

The real Jesus found me.
And He saved me.

That changed everything.

I read His words—the Bible—and for the first time, I understood them. I saw that He has a bride. A people. A gathering. And I realized I was called to them.

My heart began to ache for Christian fellowship.

So… I went.

Just like before, there were people who judged me—a half-drunk soldier trying to sort through PTSD, divorce, Jesus, and fatherhood. But this time, it was different.

Love covered all things. The Spirit was patient. Kind. The Spirit didn’t require me to understand everything before I belonged. The Spirit allowed pain, forgiveness, and growth to exist at the same time.

And when I stayed—when I didn’t run—something incredible happened.

I found a group of people who loved me like no one ever had.

They built me up.
They cared for me.
They fed me—literally and spiritually.
They helped me conquer addiction.

Honestly, it’s because of church people that I’m a pastor and church planter today.

I never wanted this.

They spoke it into me.
They spoke life and light into my wife.
They poured hours of care, prayer, and guidance into my children.

And the whole time—right alongside all the good—there was still church hurt.

Church splits.
Leaders falling into sin.
Broken trust.

And if I’m being honest… I’ve hurt people too.

As a church person. As a pastor. As an ambassador of Jesus. I’ve sinned against others.

Here’s the bottom line:

The church is full of sinners who hurt each other.

People come to Jesus to be freed from sin—so if there’s one place filled with broken, messy people, it’s the church.  Well at least the good ones! =) 

But when I’ve allowed love to cover a multitude of sins, I’ve seen healing. Miracles. Marriages restored. Families made whole. I’ve known a kind of love that a person can’t manufacture on their own.

And that love—I’ve only ever found it in one place.

The church.

So yes, church hurts—because love hurts.
And yes, it still hurts.

But it’s worth every second of pain.

Because it is in the church that I have seen the glory, majesty, awe, and wonder of Jesus—working through His bride.

And it is worth it.