Reconciliation, part 1

All photos in this post are taken by the lovely and talented Eliza Stewart.
You can follow her work on Instagram or on her website at https://elizastewartphotography.mypixieset.com

I share a lot here about what I am learning and experiencing in life. I try to share the ways Spirit shows up and guides me. I also like to tell you stories. I think that is what I am at heart - a storyteller. For the next 3 weeks, I want you to hear a story that I am still living - a story that is unfinished. This is a story about a relationship and mistakes and hurt, but also about grace and reconciliation.

Today you will hear from my dear friend Eliza. You get to hear the heart of a brave, smart, beautiful, and kind young woman. Eliza has taught me more about grace and forgiveness than anyone else I know. Today she will tell you a part of her story -and our story. Next week you will hear more from my perspective. Then finally, you will get to hear the rest of the story - the new chapter where Spirit and grace and forgiveness takes over.

I am handing over the keyboard today to my sweet Eliza-girl. She will tell you about the hurt and trauma she has experienced at the hands of the church community and the adults in her life that promised to love and hold space for her and who she was becoming. Grace Family, this is such an important story. All around us, young people like Eliza are being hurt in churches by people who put judgement and theology before love and compassion. And we have to do better. Please open your hearts and welcome my friend -

Written by Eliza Stewart, August 30, 2021

Renae and I met when I was 17 years old. We quickly became chosen family. We would watch Dr. Who for hours, shared a love for all things coffee, and enjoyed each other's company. She helped me navigate all those life changes that happen from high school to college. She was one of my people. When I did move to college, the summer after my first year, we spent many afternoons chatting and walking on the beach.

My sophomore year of college was ending and I needed a job for the summer. I went to work as a camp counselor at a Methodist summer camp. The summer of 2016 I was a lifeguard, led archery, camped in tents, led small groups, and spent the summer making friends. I thought I would meet the man of my dreams. At this point in my life, anywhere I went I thought I would meet the man of my dreams, so this was my natural state of being. There seldom was a time I wasn’t daydreaming about the perfect Christian man and marriage I would one day be blessed by God with; if I was good and faithful enough to earn it.

Then I met Jayne.

We became best friends immediately. We were lifeguards and counselors together. We swam in the lake after shifts and hung out on the weekends between camps. Our summer friendship turned into a summer romance and eventually turned into a loving marriage. The summer ended and I returned to my junior year of college with a whole new perspective on myself, faith, and scripture. The world seemed larger, and then endless questions followed.

Whereas I fell completely in love with Jayne, not everyone was as head over heels about this new relationship as I was. The church was my home, my safe place, and the people in it were my family. The church family that had become my chosen family were…. concerned to say the least. My eternal damnation was looming overhead, eliciting a strong response. On some level, even now, I understand the concern was from a place of love and care.

That August of 2016, Renae and I sat in the prayer chapel. I broke the news of my new girlfriend and our relationship forever changed. After that, things between the two of us just fizzled. There was no “last conversation” or sudden breaking point. There were other factors at play and the two of us just faded into the background of everything else going on. There was hurt and pain and irreconcilable perspectives. So after a few months things just became…. silent.

I was back in school and suddenly without a church family back home. I was still pursuing a call to ministry, so my religion department became my church for a while. Not something I recommend for college students, but it's what I had.

My separation from this community that was once so proud of me, supported and encouraged me in my studies, who I worked alongside in ministry, suddenly became cold and distant. I held onto hope of reconciliation until Chris (Renae’s husband) died. It was clear at the funeral that this was no longer my home and my people were no longer my people. The way I was kept out of the mourning process drew a clear line that showed me I was no longer welcome. Chris’s death was a turning point for me because from my perspective, even in the face of the death of a beloved pastor, my “sin” of loving a woman was so offensive it rose to the level worthy of excommunication.

The following 5 years were pretty silent as far as my relationship with anyone from my home church, including Renae. I obviously was hurt and had a million questions. I leaned on my college friends and often prayed for illumination. I did my best to move on from what I now recognize as church trauma. Therapy. And then therapy again. There aren't many resources out there for people to grieve the living. I tried to move on, but I don’t think grieving someone who is walking around in the world is something you ever really heal from. I continued to pursue my call to ministry, graduated, went to grad school, Jayne and I got married, life moved on... I moved on.

That hurt never really went away.

One day, in the middle summer of 2020, as I was sitting on the couch next to Jayne, an Instagram message came through. After reading the first line I knew that this is a message I had been praying for. Through tears I read the message out loud.

Hi Friends, this is Renae again. There is, thankfully, more to this story - that Instagram message was from me. I am so grateful that there is room for more chapters in our story. What has happened in my past - and yours - doesn’t have to be all that there is. We get to step in and write brave new endings.