To the one who feels like she's the only one:

Dear sister in the pew beside me;

Dear sister with the weight on your heart;

You said you are “fine,” and your eyes try to smile but I can see in your quick looking-away that you are not fine. Nobody here would understand, you think. Nobody here has real problems. They all love God and love each other and here I am with this oozing wound that they can’t see, and I can’t let them see because they wouldn’t understand.

Dear sister, you are not alone sitting there with your bleeding heart.

You are not the only one

Whose hands are bloody, whose heart is stained and broken;

Whose heart has erupted violent hatred against God and others;

Whose breath has been taken away by grief or betrayal;

Who screams questions at the God who died for you.

You are not the only one who cries on the inside while trying to keep the smile on the outside.

You don't have to hide, sister. You don’t have to pretend you are holier than you are to be in this place. Every week you walk in the door and stand with us and we all confess that we are sinful and unclean. You might limp through the door, and you might feel those words so heavily that you can’t even say them with your lips.

You are not the only one, dear sister.

We are all here undeserving, we are all here only because of His grace.

Confess your sins to God and to one another.

Confess your hurts to God and to each other.

Don’t let the enemy make you think you have to hide, convince you that you don’t belong here because you have real problems. Don’t let the tangled mess of your heart or your family keep you away.

This is not a place for tidiness.

This is no sterile environment.

He has come to save sinners.

He has come into the filth, right here where you are and I am.

He comes even now, and He sees and He knows, and it is ok for the people around you to see and to know, too.

This is a home for needy, messy people;

Where His gentle, nail-scarred hands are ready to welcome you in, to keep you close, to suffer with you in the suffering.

You don’t have to be fine all the time, not here. 
Not with me. 
Not with Him.

You go first, you plead with your eyes, unsure, timid.

OK then, here I go.

I’m not fine.

I am a sinner. I need grace and forgiveness and the family of God.

I need.

I have been wounded by sinners.

I need life and health and friendship and mercy and hope for the future.

I need forgiveness and I need people to stand beside me and suffer with me.

I need Jesus.

Now tell me, friend, how are you?

Do you need?

You’re in the right place, here in His house, where He gives you His Word and His very self.

Let’s go to Him together. Let’s lean heavy on His Word and each other.


Let us go, weak and loved, to God, Who calls us His own.

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Because my husband is a pastor,** people open up to me, too, and I know some of the things that break the hearts of the people in my church family. So often, I see the pain of a difficult situation keep a friend in hiding, as if she were the only one. I wish I could tell her, "I see so many more like you, hurting and struggling and not fine, but I just can't tell you their names because I carry their secrets too, just like I carry yours."

I can't convince her with names and stories, but I can encourage her with words: you are not the only one.

Stay close to His Word and His people. Jesus helps and heals and gives hope, and your situation is not too big for him.

** Because he is a pastor, he also keeps your secrets like a vault.  I only know what I know if you tell me yourself.

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Do you ever feel like the only one at church with problems?

Do you get tired of being "fine" all the time?

Why do we pretend?

Do you know someone else who needs to hear that they are loved even though they are not "fine?"