About six years ago I underwent what is known as church discipline. Below is my testimony of how God's love can--and will--interrupt your life.
There’s a lot of stigma and misunderstanding surrounding church discipline. Personally, I like the phrase “church restoration” better, because that is the goal—to restore a sinning brother or sister to the body of Christ. I don’t know what you’re experiences have been with church discipline. I’ve had lots of conversations with people about the topic—many tell me how poorly it was done, and how they were expected to completely shun a person if they were under discipline (for example, if you run into them at the store, turn your back on them and walk away); others tell me they’ve never heard of it and definitely haven’t seen it practiced before. Some think it is absolutely awful and unloving. Some think it is unbiblical and they would never attend a church that actively practiced it. There certainly are a lot of opinions! Is church discipline an unloving practice? You tell me, after you hear my story.
Are you familiar with the story of the Prodigal Son? It’s in Luke 15. There were two sons, and the younger one decided he wanted his inheritance NOW, so he asked his dad for his part. The father divided his wealth and gave half to his younger son, who packed up his life and went on his merry way... living his life the way HE wanted to live it, doing the things HE wanted to do, living to indulge HIS pleasures and desires. Sense a theme, here?
That was me. I demanded my inheritance, and I walked away from all I knew. I made the decision to leave. I decided a man—a relationship, a romance, the undivided attention, the flattery, and the sexual sin—was better than what the church was offering me—better than what God was offering me. This story is about my prodigal wanderings, and how the love of God can—and will—interrupt your life.
The puritan writer John Owen said, “Temptations and occasions put nothing into a man, but only draw out what was in him before.”
Proverbs 27:19 says “As in water face [reflects] face, So a man's heart [reveals] the man.”
Jesus says it better in Matthew 12:
“… How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil.” (Matthew 12:34b-35)
All these verses talk about the heart—the place from where your thoughts, beliefs, and desires flow. What you think about directly results in your actions. You’re thirsty, so you get up and get a drink of water. The thought preceded the action. Your thoughts are important. What you allow yourself to think about determines your actions. That’s why Proverbs 4:23 says to “Watch over your heart with all diligence, For from it flow the springs of life.”
I used to think about getting married ALL THE TIME. I was consumed with the thought. My high school friends were getting married, and I wasn’t. I was happy for them, but sad for me, in a way. I figured I was still young, though, so it was okay. Then my college friends started to get married. Me? I didn’t go on one date in college. So, I moved home. In my mid-twenties, another round went through the marriage sweepstakes, including my best friend. I was determined to not be left behind this time. The online dating roulette began.
The first guy I met, I just KNEW I had met the man of my dreams. Everyone who heard about him liked him. He did all the right things, including asking my pastor permission to pursue a relationship with me, asked my dad if he could marry me… he did propose to me, and promptly dumped me 12 hours later. It was a total and complete whirlwind.
Up until that moment of my life, I had been the classic “good girl”—I hadn’t done much to get in a lot of trouble. Even though I come from a dysfunctional, unchristian family life I was a part of a loving, godly church family that had taken me in. I had been a teacher at a private Christian school for two years. I volunteered in the church office and did all I could to help out in any way that I could. I have attended this particular church since 1995 (which is the year I came to know the Lord). This means I have been well taught **all** of my Christian life. I majored in Martin Luther and the Reformation in college, which meant I immersed myself in theology—and I knew it well. I was very prideful in my theological knowledge and ability to understand what I was learning. I had so much book knowledge—head knowledge, as some call it. I knew a lot. I thought I knew it all.
After this relationship ended, I started to go on a downward spiral. I started talking to lots of guys online, and I would meet up with them at coffee shops or whatnot whenever I could; I met one guy for the first time at my church, even (he came to meet me; church was merely an excuse). I didn’t recognize the tailspin I was in, although I’m sure others noticed!
Then I met one guy who understood what it meant to pursue a woman. And pursue he did. It became its own whirlwind. I was enamored and liked the attention I received from him. It didn’t take long for our relationship to progress to an immoral relationship. He came to church with me—and nobody liked him. I was afraid of losing the one man who showered me with attention and affection I so desperately craved. I had convinced myself—from the Bible—that I was obligated to marry this man and make the relationship work. I knew long before anybody in the church was aware of what was happening that, once they knew, I would be put under church discipline. They would have to do their part and hold me accountable; I needed to do mine and marry this guy. I trusted in my own wisdom.
I had a godly roommate who was incredibly faithful. She was faithful to the Lord, to the Word, and to me. She confronted me time and time again before bringing a friend along; the elders, concerned by my erratic behavior, pulled her and a few other close friends of mine in for meetings. As their concern mounted, my delusion grew. I **was** reading my Bible, but everything I read told me to follow this man. Yes, I was in sin—and the way to fix that sin was to marry him. I was so desperate for love I was willing to walk through hell—although I didn’t understand what that would mean at the time. I moved out of my apartment, leaving behind a godly roommate and friend, and I moved in with him.
My church had a “family meeting” on a Wednesday night, I think it was. Obviously, I wasn’t there! They told the church how I was living in open, rebellious, unrepentant sin. They encouraged everyone to reach out to me to help restore me back to fellowship—encourage me to repent of my sin and COME HOME.
Those people listened well. I had people coming to visit me at work, meeting up with me for coffee, writing me letters, calling me… every person who requested to meet with me in person, I met. I was honest… I honest in believing I was doing the right thing. I was unmoved.
After a while I received a certified letter from the church at my mom’s house (as they didn’t know where I was living) requesting I return to the church before they removed me from the church under formal church discipline. I took that letter, flipped it over, wrote a note requesting they remove me from membership, and dropped it in the mailbox at the church. Brazen, rebellious, hard hearted… I still shudder to think I did that.
Romans 1 talks about the wrath of God starting in verse 18. It humbles me to realize that I was in that passage, and didn’t see it. Verses 21-22 say For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools. Verse 25 goes on to say they exchanged the truth of God for a lie. Verse 28 shows God’s response: He gave them over to a depraved mind, to do those things which are not proper.
I was a living example of a believer who had been given over to a depraved mind. I lived with a man who was abusive in every sense of the word and was living a double life himself, playing a very convincing wolf in sheep clothing. I honestly had thought he was a believer; he gave me a very convincing testimony. It didn’t take too long before his façade crumbled, but I was in too deep, and too afraid to leave him. I can remember locking myself in the bathroom in fear as he tore apart our apartment in a fit of rage because the electricity had been turned off due to his not paying the bill. This was to be a mere foreshadow of my life for the next year with him—that was a mild example compared to what I lived through over the next year.
We went to church every week. We inevitably would meet with the pastor, and I would explain my position as under discipline. I expected to be told to end the relationship and go home; what I got was support. I had to explain why FCC placed me under discipline, and why they were right for doing so. I told them I agreed with their decision, and the pastors were disagreeing with me! These men (and their wives—from different churches, mind you) thought it was unjust, unfair, and unloving. “The church is for sinners!” I was told repeatedly. “Just stay that way!” was implied. I was very sad to hear these pastors think so little of honoring God. I was a walking contradiction. One person did offer to pay for the marriage certificate if we would simply go to the court and get married. I eagerly agreed—but he did not. I thank GOD that we did not get married.
I was completely miserable. In one sense, I was free. . . the phone calls had stopped; the letters stopped coming. The impromptu visits at the coffee shop where I worked ended. I was alone. I was under constant conviction of my sin; I did not have any friends to turn to for support. I was alone. I was isolated. I was experiencing the full weight of my sin, my decision to walk away from my church, my family—from the Lord. I was free to be attacked without any protection.
I was experiencing 1 Corinthians 5:5. I was removed from the protection of my church and delivered over to Satan for the destruction of my flesh—and it was terrifying.
Matthew 10:28 says "Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”
I lived for . . . too long . . . fearing everyone and everything other than God. I knew I was a Christian; I knew I would return back to FCC at some point. I didn’t know what condition I would be in when I returned. The abuse-apologize-romance apology-abuse cycle was on endless repeat. It was a way of life.
Then I had a moment. I was walking across the living room and glanced out the window to my left. I’m not quite sure what was so special about that glance. All I remember is seeing my life so clearly—where I had been, where I was, and most predominately, where I was going. It was as if the Lord took His hand off me for a brief second—just long enough for me to see where I heading.
I hit my knees, unable to breathe. It was worse than being punched in the gut. I couldn’t breathe to cry. I sat, on my knees, clutching my arms, gasping for air, begging God to stop. I was terrified. I was at the end of my rope, and I was dangling. I knew the only reason I was alive was because the Lord was keeping me that way, and I knew if He let me go, I was finished. But the destruction of my flesh wasn’t complete.
Not too long after that I had a miscarriage.
Not too long after that there was an awful blow up between myself and the guy (followed with one of the worst apartment obliterations). I finally left. I called my sister, who came over, called the police, and organized a moving party. I lived on her couch for a few months. I realized while I was living on her couch that I had completed the biological family circle—every single one of us had been in an abusive relationship. I kept receiving phone calls from battered woman’s shelters asking if I was safe, if I needed a place to live, and counseling. I was miserable. I was terrified. I was heartbroken. I was lost. I didn’t have my true family—I didn’t have my church. I knew I needed to go home, but I was scared. It took a few months. (I’m Irish, okay?)
Something that doesn’t happen often is for the prodigal to come home. Do you remember the rest of the story in Luke 15? The son comes to his senses while feeding pigs. Pigs were detestable in Jewish culture—just go back and check out old testament law regarding food purity and Jewish rituals to understand how absolutely abhorrent this was for the son. He longed to simply be a servant in his father’s household who were well fed and taken care of. He was dying, and he knew he needed to go home.
He said,
I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants."' (vs. 18-19)
I clearly remember the day I pulled into the church parking lot. When I walked through the doors, I didn’t recognize anybody at first. They were all strangers. Complete and total strangers. I had a moment of panic—what was I doing here? I spit in these people’s faces—I told them to take their church membership and shove it. I walked away. I didn’t belong here. I froze in the hallway, unable to move. Then someone I knew saw me—she saw me, walked straight for me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the office. I sobbed. That’s all I could do. I stood there and sobbed. When I finally looked up, do you know what I saw? Tears—tears in the eyes of every person standing in that room. They all knew me. Every one of them—and more people joined in the room, quickly. Word spread fast I had come back. My closest friends—those same people who loved me enough to confront me—stood in that room with me and cried.
Luke 15:20 goes on to say,
“And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 21 And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' 22 But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. 23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate.”
Celebrate. My church family definitely celebrated. They were crying tears of JOY! I had more hugs that day than I can count!
I had a difficult time accepting their love, though. I really wanted them to be mad at me for what I had done. I deserved their wrath and anger! I deserved God’s wrath, and I knew it! I wasn’t getting it, either, and it confused me. I spit in their faces. I walked away. I didn’t understand why they weren’t mad at me.
I knew I had to fix my relationship with God, and it had to start at my church. I didn’t know where to start, though, in fixing things with God. So I picked up my Bible—admittedly, it was a little dusty at this point—and I started to read Romans. I saw myself in chapter 1, and the wrath of God. I knew I deserved it. I knew I had been this person. Then I started chapter two—verse four reached out and slapped me:
4 Or do you think lightly of the riches of His kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God leads you to repentance?
I understood this verse because of my church. I understood God’s kindness due to the kindness shown by every person of that church the day I walked through the doors. I understood I was alive due to the kindness of God, and the purpose of this was so that I would have the opportunity to repent.
And I did. I cried out to God, asking for His forgiveness for my rebellious heart and blatant sin against Him, His word, and His church. I prayed Psalm 51. Go and read it sometime, if you haven’t in a while. Grace is such a wonderful, merciful thing—it humbles even the hardest of hearts.
I am an example of God’s wrath relented—I experienced it, and He restored me back to fellowship for His glory after I repented. He never let me completely go, but He allowed me to experience the consequences of my foolishness.
Some of you were at the same church when this happened. Many in the church didn’t know who I was—yet they prayed for me. I cannot say thank you enough to all who were a part of this for the grace they extended—for being the arms of Jesus to me. The church is my family—you are my family. I will never forget the people who walked to the edge of hell, fighting for me. I will never forget the church who prayed for me while I walked in rebellion. I will never forget the church that opened her arms and welcomed me back home, even as beaten up, bruised, broken, and hopeless as I was. I will never forget being loved so undeservingly, and learning what it really means to love—and be loved—with the love of Christ.
My friends, church discipline is a beautiful thing. It is the love of Christ in action.
Prodigals do come home. A child of God cannot live under constant conviction of sin and not repent. They will return, and when they do, they will be a mess. They need love, and the word of God ministered to their heart. Someone needs to walk into that trench, take their hand, and walk with them before the throne of God. It is hard, messy work. But it is valuable and indispensable. I had a biblical counselor take my hand and walk with me. I cannot tell you how thankful I am for that woman. We need more men and women of God who are willing to do trench warfare—not be afraid to get dirty to help a brother or a sister out.
I don’t know many of you out there—I don’t know if I’m talking to someone who, like me when I was a teenager hearing of church discipline for the first time, identifies with the sinner more than the one who repents. If that is you, please, come talk to me, or talk to one of your pastors. I cannot adequately tell you how dark and lonely that road is you are starting to walk toward. Maybe you’re well acquainted with the path, and nobody knows—yet. It’s not too late. This is me, arms waiving, offering a spot of respite to get off the thoroughfare, get help, and point you back to that narrow road to glory. There is hope, there is help, there is healing at the cross of Jesus Christ. You are not alone. The ground is level at the foot of the cross—you and I are not so different. We are all sinners in need of a Savior; we all are beggars simply telling another beggar where to find bread. Friends, the location of the bread has been found!
My prayer is this story of God’s grace has encouraged you to reach out to one another and love each other enough to call one another out on sin, and restore one another in gentleness. Love covers a multitude of sins—so my question is this: are you willing to love each other the way Christ has loved you? I pray you will.
Thank you.