This afternoon I took some time to share with a good friend a bit of my story of hurt and healing in the Church. I feel like I’ve told this to everyone already, but I keep finding that I’ve only alluded to it to many. With that being said I’ll probably get into more detail here on my blog soon. The (hopefully) short story is that I spent seven years in ministry at a church all the while struggling with addictions and compulsive behaviors – totally in isolation and not sharing this struggle with anyone. When things became life-threatening I finally went to my pastor and shared everything – all of my fears and failures – and asked for help. While I was initially met with love, it was also the beginning of just over three years of extreme demands being placed on me – leading to me moving way from all friends and family, severing ties with anyone I knew outside of our church, giving up school, my business, my vehicle, my computer, my cell phone – everything to pursue the ‘help’ that I was being offered. What it turned out to be was living under 24-hour supervision in a legalistic environment with no actual counseling or direct ‘help’ resources. This didn’t come all at once, but rather gradually I was given stricter and stricter requirements all in the name of helping me.