I don't know where these writings will take me nor if they will ever be beheld in the eyes of anyone else. As much as I've grown to distaste the charismatic church, I honestly have a few warm words I could share regarding my experiences in it. After all, how could such a force have given me so much pain if it hadn't touched my soul in some way?
It's been about three months since my forceful departure of a charismatic church I had attended for approximately a year and a half. On one hand, I'm deeply grieved by the loss of companions whose lives brought such beauty to mine. On the other hand, I am grateful to be removed from an environment naturally so hostile to my very character.
I've been left to claw at the dense wall that is familiarity with other potential brothers and sisters. It's truly a patient task to get to know someone new. I could go on, but telling my further experiences since then won't depict the extent of hope now present in my life if I don't explain the beginning.
YOU ARE READING
Though You slay me, yet I will trust You
Non-FictionThis is a journal-like, subjective account of my experiences in the Church, mostly of the charismatic branch and the hurt caused by it. These entries are full of pain, but also an undercurrent of hope. Verging on deconstructionism, life crises, and...
