I'm sorry the Church hurt you ...
... That was humanity, not Jesus
Published here with the kind permission of the author: Β©Okiwelu Chinedu Anthony
Kemi sat in her small apartment, staring out the window at the rain-soaked streets.
It had been ten years since she last set foot in a church, but the memories were still as sharp as broken glass. The betrayal, the judgment, and the shame had followed her like a shadow.
She used to love church. It had been her sanctuary, a place of refuge from the chaos of her childhood. Every Sunday, sheβd sit in the front pew, absorbing every word of the sermons, convinced that she was loved, protected, and valued. But somewhere along the way, the warmth faded.
It wasnβt one event, but a thousand small cuts that broke her. The whispers behind her back when her family fell apart, the pitying looks when she couldnβt fit into the mould of who they expected her to be.
But the deepest wound came the day she confided in her pastor about her depression. She had been sinking for months, her mental health deteriorating, and the church had been her last hope for finding help.
She had believed the words they preached about love and grace, so she finally opened up and laid bare her broken heart in search of healing.
But instead of compassion, she was met with judgment. Her struggles were reduced to a lack of faith, her depression was dismissed as spiritual weakness. And in front of the entire congregation, the pastor used her story as a warningβa lesson in what happens when one strays too far from Godβs light.
The shame crushed her.
That day Kemi left the church and swore she would never return. She had been seeking Jesus but had instead found only the brokenness of humanity disguised as holiness. For years, she held onto the pain, letting it fester, allowing the bitterness to harden her heart.
The people who were meant to reflect Christβs love had left her wounded and abandoned. And so, she had left them too.
But even after all these years, something inside her still felt raw, unhealed.
One rainy afternoon, Kemi found herself sitting alone in a cafΓ©, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out at the downpour. She had been isolating herself for so long, pushing people away, pushing God away. But the weight of it all had finally become too much.
She hadnβt expected to run into Tolu, her childhood friend, that day. They hadnβt seen each other since the church days, and yet here she was, sitting across from Kemi as if no time had passed.
The conversation started light, catching up on life, work, and everything else. But eventually, it drifted into the territory Kemi had avoided for yearsβfaith.
βI havenβt been to church in years,β Kemi said bluntly, the bitterness still fresh on her tongue. βI donβt need it anymore.β
Tolu looked at her, her eyes soft but searching. βWhat happened, Kemi? You used to love church. You were always the one who believed so deeply.β
Kemi hesitated, but something in Toluβs presence made her feel safe. She hadnβt spoken about the hurt in so long, but now, sitting across from her friend, it all came tumbling outβthe judgement, the rejection, the way the church had turned its back on her when she needed it most.
When she finished, Kemi braced herself for another lecture. Another round of disappointment.
But Tolu didnβt judge. Instead, she reached across the table, taking Kemiβs hand in hers.
βKemi, I am so sorry the church hurt you,β she said quietly. βBut that was humanity, not Jesus.β
Those words hung in the air, heavy and profound. Kemiβs chest tightened as they began to sink in.
βI donβt understand,β Kemi whispered, her voice cracking. βHow could they treat me like that, if they were supposed to represent Him?β
Toluβs eyes filled with empathy.
βBecause theyβre just people, Kemi. Imperfect, broken people, who sometimes get it wrong. The way they treated youβthat wasnβt Jesus. Heβs not like that. Jesus came to love, to heal, and to lift up those who are hurting. What they did, that was their failure, not His.β
The weight of Toluβs words hit Kemi like a wave, breaking open the dam of emotions she had been holding back for years.
Tears streamed down her face as the bitterness and anger she had held onto for so long began to melt away. She had been so focused on the pain, on the people who had failed her, that she had forgotten about the One who never would.
For the first time in a decade, Kemi felt a flicker of hope, like a tiny flame igniting in the depths of her soul. Maybe, just maybe, Jesus hadnβt abandoned her. Maybe He had been waiting, all this time, for her to realize that His love wasnβt defined by the actions of flawed humans.
βI donβt know if I can go back,β Kemi said through her tears. βI donβt think Iβll ever trust the church again.β
βYou donβt have to,β Tolu replied gently. βJesus isnβt asking you to trust people who hurt you. Heβs just asking you to trust Him. Heβs not ashamed of you, Kemi. He never was. He sees you, He loves you, and He wants to heal those wounds. But you have to let Him in.β
Kemi wiped her tears, the truth of Toluβs words sinking deeper with each passing moment. She realized then that her battle wasnβt with Jesus; it was with the brokenness of humanity.
And while she couldnβt erase the hurt, she could choose to let go of the bitterness that had kept her from the One who had never stopped loving her.
It wouldnβt be easy. Healing never was. But for the first time in years, Kemi felt ready to start that journey. Not back to the church, but back to Jesusβthe One who had never judged her for being human, the One who had always seen her as enough.
The rain outside had stopped, but inside, Kemi felt the beginnings of a downpourβa cleansing of her soul, a washing away of the years of pain. And as she sat there with Tolu, her heart heavy but hopeful, she made a decision.
She would open her heart againβnot to the church, but to the Christ who had always been there, waiting for her to come home.
Originally published by Β©Okiwelu Chinedu Anthony on Medium.
Afterword
By God, I have faith to believe that Kemi will surely come back to the church. Once broken, and now made stronger, her healing and mission will be perfected when she returns to the church as a pilar of strength to those who are hurting like she one did.
I know because I've been there.
One thing I always tell my people is that, "As Christians, whether we like it or not, the Church as represented by fellow fallible brethren may and will hurt us one day. Maybe deliberately or otherwise, but one day, you will be hurt deep by the Church and the brethren we love so much." If it hasnβt happen to you yet, I thank God for you. But prepare, it will come upon you one day." When it happens, may God give the true Christian the courage and grace to stand true to the Saviour.
May we not get so disillusioned as to leave the faith entirely.
May we become pillars of strength to our struggling, failing, and rising fellow pilgrims through our healed hearts.
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