And I’m talking about being hurt by the church.
Eighteen months ago, my husband and I were co-teachers of an adult Sunday school class that was full of people we considered friends. The eight couples who regularly attended were people who we shared our lives with—the good and the bad—and they did the same. We studied God’s word together, we prayed for one another, and we spent time outside of church just hanging out. Those couples were the next closest thing to family to us. Eighteen months ago, I could never have written this post.
Want to read the whole thing? Come on by The Glorious Table.