:: the aftermath of leaving home (part 3)

(Please read Parts 1 and 2 before continuing…)

On January 25, 2015, Pastor Ryan Meeks announced that Eastlake Community Church would be fully inclusive of the LGBTQ community. After that, hundreds of people left the church, and ever since, the pastor led us - or at least me - to believe that they all left because they didn't want the LGBTQ community included in church.

In my experience, there’s always been a veiled "us versus them" culture created at Eastlake. We were the cool, progressive church who did things how we pleased because we were enlightened, and those who disagreed were old fashioned, hateful, and "threatened by our freedom" (this is what my pastor told me in a text from the conversation mentioned in the last blog post). But since the decision to be fully inclusive, that attitude has ramped up considerably.

I've noticed a lot of time spent building up Eastlake as a community, as an entity to be loyal to. (This became clear to me when I finally realized I was still staying because I felt loyal to Ryan and the lovely humans I adored at Eastlake...rather than to Jesus.) A lot of time spent (whether it be on stage or via social media) creating an “in crowd” kind of feel. Lots of hashtags and slogans and group pics and public shout outs. Very recently they had a "Count Me In" campaign to see who was willing to commit to "moving Eastlake forward". Stories were shared on a regular basis the past few years about how much Eastlake had done for people, changed people…but from what I saw, not a lot about how God played into any of that.

Every so often someone on stage would flippantly bring up a negative quote or review found online about the church. It was always treated as a joke. They would call us the "1-star church" or a cult, and I remember how we would all laugh together, smug and sure (was that just me?) about how we knew so much better than "they" did. 

"Just tell them, 'It's worse than you think,'" was the frequent directive from our pastor, when the topic of defending Eastlake and its behavior would come up. 

This phrase has run through my mind over and over the past couple of months, as I've discovered more dark details about the place I loved and trusted to lead me closer to Jesus. It truly is worse than I could’ve ever imagined.

When I think of it now, it's like that scene in Ace Ventura when he realizes that Einhorn is Finkel. *facepalm* I feel straight up played. I feel betrayed.

There's a saying, "Stand for something, or you'll fall for anything."

This is exactly what is happening at Eastlake now. The scales that fell off my eyes have revealed a shockingly absurd theology, and one that can only be described as "emergent", which is a path that leads in the opposite direction of Jesus. “If it feels good, do it,” is not new or enlightened, but it’s the underlying message of everything being taught now at Eastlake.

While no one wants to intentionally believe something that is just flat out wrong, we will still often dig our heels into what we've chosen to believe, especially when we are surrounded by people who agree. Because stronger than the feeling of certainty, is the need to belong. The whole "us versus them/are you in or out” mentality is incredibly powerful, incredibly persuasive. And if we are not solidly grounded in our beliefs, we can be easily swayed by the crowd. 

After experiencing this firsthand, I have a newfound compassion for people who get sucked into cults. 

I’m totally serious. It's a betrayal on so many levels.

Even with a nagging feeling in my gut that something was wrong for over a year, I couldn’t fathom not being a part of the Eastlake tribe. As someone who kinda likes rocking the boat, I definitely had some pride about being part of such a non-traditional, ballsy church. But since leaving, I can’t tell you how often I've felt sick to my stomach when it hits me again that I was "drinking the Kool-Aid" for so long. It's been incredibly humbling when I think of the attitude I had up until just a few months ago, of the things I said to people who reached out to me with concern. I've done quite a bit of apologizing. 

Out of the many, many people I've talked to who left Eastlake before us, I've had exactly zero of them share that they left for the reasons that our former pastor led us to believe. Nobody I talked to left because they didn’t want to go to church with gay people. (In fact, many people that have left fully support the inclusion decision, but couldn't get on board with taking God out of church.) Instead, every person mentioned some version of how Jesus or God or the Bible was being removed and demoted. Every person had a story very similar to ours, and to learn that the path had veered away long before we'd realized it has truly shaken me. 

Instead, former staff (both those who left on their own, as well as those who were let go) have shared their experiences of feeling emotionally manipulated and abused by the pastor. Secrets were demanded to be kept as staff who were fired were made to sign non-disclosure agreements before they'd receive a severance. I’ve learned that it was church policy to only invest in the lives of the top 10% of financial givers. I've recently heard of "Members Only Meetings" being held in secret. I remember during my internship several years back, though we were choosing to work in a church (for free, mind you), our focus was always business and leadership rather than God’s Word. We had quotas to meet and lists of approved people we were supposed to offer special treatment to.

I’ve read tons of reviews online, going years back, sharing experiences that point to the pastors and staff reacting unlovingly to those with questions on the church’s theology. I’ve even heard stories of people who’ve been mistreated and asked to leave the church because they questioned the theology. In a church that promotes asking questions and doubting, it’s shocking to learn of the hypocritical treatment of those who chose to speak up when the teaching deviated from the Bible. Scriptures that used to flash on the screen between worship song lyrics have been replaced with quotes from numerous authors, TV's Mr. Rogers, and the leaders of other religions...including quotes by my former pastor. And the music now cannot be described as worship to God at all. Instead, they play songs about oneness with each other, of breathing love and meadowlarks.

I've listened as the teaching staff shared bizarre analogies of frogs that just made no sense. They teach messages that stress the importance of unlearning and deconstructing everything we've ever been taught, and then plant a seed of doubt about who Jesus is ("...maybe he didn't die on the cross for my sins..."). I’ve watched as a woman I consider a friend shared a message about praying inwardly to herself, while picturing some totem, and saw her roll her eyes numerous times, as if she herself didn’t believe what she was saying (although chats with her since make it clear she does now). Where Jesus used to be the point (remember the old tag line? "Helping people find and follow Jesus"?), now the messages are a series of spiritual-ish self-help TED Talks. They focus on being a “beneficial presence in the world” (the new tag line), talking a lot about looking into ourselves for answers, praising the pastor for his brave actions…but not about seeking Jesus.

And I realize now that they've spent a long damn time slowly and methodically attempting to discredit the Bible. They teach that instead of the inspired Word of God, it’s a library of random ancient texts that bear no real weight in today’s world, but still has a few good points. Naturally, they teach this because if you’re going to change the beliefs you’re teaching to a church so traditionally rooted in what the Bible says, you have no choice but to try and make it seem irrelevant first. Because now the pastor does not believe God is personal, but instead "god" is a cosmic unknowable being we are part of. Eastlake is teaching that there is no hell beyond “knowing your truth and lacking the courage to live it” (a quote from the pastor), so that there is no need to worry about any eternal implications of our actions here on Earth. Eastlake has become a mecca for preaching about social activism, which is sneaky, because taking care of people is absolutely the Lord’s work. But they’ve taken the Lord out of it.

"Eastlake isn't for everyone," is still a common script, usually delivered with a shrug of the shoulders. Which seems like the opposite of including everyone and being the "church for the rest of us". In its own way, Eastlake has always had a very “our way or the highway” attitude. But I suppose if the pastor believes he answers to no one, this shouldn’t come as a surprise.

It’s heartbreaking that the church that was originally founded on the beliefs that I hold dear now instead promotes and celebrates confusion, and does so in the name of love, acceptance, and enlightenment. They've turned what God lovingly gave us as a choice (to accept Him or reject Him, each choice with its own consequences) into an intellectual debate, and if you dare say you believe that what the Bible says about Jesus is true, there's a perception that you're immature, un-evolved and haven't caught up yet. Suddenly God has become so very mysterious that we can't possibly understand Him, so ambiguity is valued over belief. They've taken faith completely out of the equation.

These realizations are incredibly upsetting. 

Tomorrow, I'll share a different perspective about that upworthy video that went viral…

:: the aftermath of leaving home (part 2)

(Please read Part 1 before continuing…)

In today's postmodern culture, everyone has "their truth", based on their feelings and perception and life experience, and I think those truths are worth validating and acknowledging. But I also believe that there is an absolute Truth, and that begins and ends with God the Father, the Creator. God is good, and God is love.

Since I was a child, I've known what the Truth was, and my faith in God has always been strong. For the better part of the last year, though, I was really confused as to what I believed, and whether or not it was real. The messages I'd been fed at church for months, years maybe, had been messing with my faith, my entire belief system. This has been incredibly painful, but I'm starting to feel grateful for it, because after experiencing all the searching and confusion and doubt, my faith is stronger than ever. Like bank tellers, who learn how to spot fake currency by studying what the real deal looks like, I began to recognize the counterfeit gospel my church was teaching when I compared it to the Word of God.

I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and that He sacrificed His life on the cross, supernaturally paying the price for my sin, before I was ever even born. Because of His gift, and because I choose to believe it's true, I get to spend eternity with Him and God the Father. This same gift is available to every single human on the planet. I think this is incredibly Good News, and I am beyond grateful to have found solace and truth and peace in my faith. 

I also believe that on this earth we have a very real enemy, named Satan. He is the father of lies, and he is incredibly skilled in the art of deception. His mission is also clear and the Bible tells us that his only purpose is to destroy us. Not mess with us or make us uncomfortable. But to steal, and kill, and destroy. The spiritual realm is alive and active, where angels and demons are working day and night to help us or harm us, respectively. Many of us walk around with no knowledge of this at all, yet it’s there. I think that even if you don’t consider yourself a religious person, you are likely aware of a spirituality within or around you, and that there is something bigger than just us on this earth.

It's a common tactic of this enemy of ours to make us misunderstand the heart and nature of God. If we doubt the goodness and love of God then it’s really easy to start pointing fingers and deciding we know better than He does, and we start looking elsewhere for things that make us feel good. The enemy is constantly pointing out all the ugliness in the world and blaming it on God (“If He’s a loving God, then why would He allow…?”), when in fact it is caused by evil. God is love, and as our heavenly Father and Creator of everything, He knows so much better than we do. In the same way that I can see a much bigger picture than my children are capable of seeing, and sometimes just need them to trust me when I have to tell them “No”, God knows how our actions can have a ripple effect into the future. And the future He’s looking at is eternity and all of humankind, not just that of our individual lifetimes on this planet.

In having to leave our church (and please understand that when I realized what was going on, staying was simply no longer an option), one of the first things I felt, and continue to battle, is shame. I truly believe this feeling is not from God and He is not ashamed of me or angry at me for taking so long to hear His voice again. I believe He's grateful I finally listened to His still, small voice, and He is celebrating my return home. I've felt His presence so tangibly in my life since we made the choice to leave. It's been a gift.

But still, I've felt deeply ashamed. 

I've talked to so many people who left our church before we did. Years before, even. Every person has a similar story to ours, and I've truly fought the temptation to beat myself up because I "should have" seen this all sooner. Things that I just started seeing have really been going on for years, but it’s been so subtle that if I noticed them at all, I justified them away, and allowed myself to continue to marinate in it all. And the longer you stay somewhere, the harder it is to leave. I keep thinking of the analogy of frogs boiling slowly in a pot of water, not realizing until it’s too late that they’re in danger. That’s what this has felt like for me.

A giant mistake I made is that I stopped making my faith journey my own. I found a church I felt good in, found leadership I clicked with and gave them my trust...and then I stopped doing my own homework. I stopped researching the thought leaders whose ideas were being shared from my church stage, and instead just trusted that they were right and in line with my beliefs, since I trusted the leadership. I realize now how incredibly naive this was of me. I can remember so many times the pastor encouraged us to do our own research and not take his word for it, yet I did that very thing. It's tricky how someone telling you not to trust anyone, can cause you to trust that person. Happens in the movies all the time. *sigh*

I also stopped reading the Bible, I think partly out of laziness and partly out of arrogance, assuming I just knew it because I'd been reading the Word my whole life. But I started forgetting what it said, and instead just agreed with what was shared by those I'd given my trust to. I mean, if it sounded good and loving, it was probably right, because I believe God is love. Right? I also realized recently that at some point, seeing Scripture actually irritated me. There were several faith-based accounts I followed on Instagram and Facebook, but a while back I unfollowed them because their posts made me angry. (That should’ve been a red flag to me, too.)

It was especially irritating to me when a woman I didn’t know very well started messaging me on Facebook a couple months back, telling me she thought I was at risk of being exposed to darkness because the leadership at my church had veered away from the power of God’s Word and prayer. She suggested that we were left vulnerable to spiritual attack because the leadership failed to protect us (she knew this from conversations she had with staff who admitted they didn’t pray together to protect themselves and those of us in their congregation). Honestly, her Scriptures and her accusations (that’s how they felt at the time) ticked me off, and I respectfully disagreed with her. But they hit a nerve, and I began praying more fervently. (Now, I’m incredibly grateful to this woman, and for those I’ve learned have been praying for me for a long time.)

Reading the Bible again and praying specifically for clarity and truth were two of the things that helped me see clearly what's going on at Eastlake, and why I had to leave. My prayers were answered so quickly that it was as if God had just been waiting for me to ask, and then He dropped a giant truth bomb on me. It's felt a lot like waking up, except I woke up to a bad dream. In the Bible, it talks about scales falling off people's eyes...this describes my experience accurately.

I keep going over things that have happened in the past few years, and one of the biggest red flags was just a few months ago…

I've been reading and re-reading texts from my pastor, from conversations we had a couple months back when I told him I was trying to get to the point he's at, asking him for guidance and help to back up his position. I wasn’t as at peace as he seemed to be with his decisions, but I wanted to be. I wanted to keep on his path, a path I was following, because that's what you do when you are a part of a church. You follow the journey the leadership takes you on.

When I asked him for the Scriptures he used that helped him come to his inclusion decision (more on that tomorrow), he texted: "I don't need the Bibles approval or Christians approval."

Honestly, his words at the time didn’t alarm me outright. But now, it’s shocking to understand that my pastor doesn’t believe he needs accountability or authority over him from the Word of God, or from fellow Christian believers. So who *does* he need to answer to? Don’t we all answer to someone?

Waking up to the reality of what's going on in the place I called home has been utterly surreal. I've never been this close to something this dark, at least not that I remember being aware of. It feels like I'm in a bad movie, and I keep having these "I can't believe this is real life" moments. I've learned my lesson - I hope - to no longer leave my walk with God in anyone else's hands. It's a painful lesson to learn, and I hope to never repeat it.

Tomorrow, I talk about a shift that happened at Eastlake in 2015…

Xoxo.

:: the aftermath of leaving home (part 1)

A short time ago, we had to make the painful decision to leave our church home, after discovering we no longer agreed with the theology. I emailed a letter to 14 members of the staff, and got a reply from 13 of them. All kind, all supportive, all encouraging us to follow our hearts. But not a single staff member from our Christian church told me I was wrong when I said we had to leave because they were demoting Jesus to a mystic guru to emulate, instead of the Son of God to be worshipped. This was an incredibly painful confirmation for us that leaving was the right thing. I really wanted to be wrong.

Eastlake was our sacred place where, for 8 years, we worshipped Jesus (or thought we were), the place where we shared our faith and joy, sorrows and secrets, and poured in our time and money. I went through a divorce, started over, got remarried, experienced the death of my new husband's niece and nephew, and the birth and traumatic hospitalization of our daughter there. Having to leave such an important place to us has triggered a season of deep grief that I didn't expect, and certainly wasn't prepared for. The closest comparison I can come up with is that it's felt a lot like my divorce did 9 years ago. I know there were good times, and beautiful relationships made, but to suddenly learn of the indiscretions, the lies that have been told, and so many dark secrets that have been going on behind the scenes overrides any goodness that was there. Suddenly, all I can see is everything that's gone wrong, and the bad news just keeps coming and coming. The past couple of months have been an overwhelming torrent of new realizations that come like a punch in the gut, each with a wave of fresh grief. It all feels like a lie.

For the sake of clarity, let me say that the intention of this post is threefold:

1. To help process my own feelings and grief through this season.

2. To share truth, because there are a lot of lies and twisted half-truths being shared at Eastlake right now. To this end, I will be including lots of Scripture (as well as other websites and a few songs), as links you can visit rather than embedded within my text. (I do this because if you’re anything like I was a few months ago, you’re completely turned off by Scripture right now, and I don’t want you glazing over and not hearing what I have to say.)

3. To let anyone else in a position like this (or who will be at some point) know they're not alone. This road is a weary one, and I want to help ease the pain in any way I can.

This isn’t going to be an easy read, and it’s definitely not easy to share. But I’m trying to be quicker to be obedient when I feel the Lord’s nudging, because when I do, I find myself stepping into His plan which is just SO.MUCH.BETTER than my plans are, ever. That’s part of what this blog is. Writing this, and especially making it public is pretty scary for me, not gonna lie. I stand to lose a lot more friends, and I’m going to make people angry. But I believe this is a lot bigger than any of that, and the ramifications of staying silent when I have such big truths to share are way more detrimental than any hurt I may experience on this earth.

I hope, though, that you’ll read my words through my lens: as someone who loves Eastlake and its staff deeply and has a personal knowledge, history and experience there; as someone who tries to love people with the love of Jesus; and as someone who believes the Truth is important to point out when it’s being misrepresented. No one appreciates being lied to. I share this out of obedience, and I especially share this out of love.

Due to the heavy nature of, as well as length of this post, I will be breaking it up into a 6-part series, with one post being shared each day, starting today (this is the first one). It will take some time to process.

Until tomorrow…

Xoxo.

:: leaving home

To follow is the letter I sent (on behalf of Greg and our whole family) to 14 members of the Eastlake Community Church staff on March 25th. 

I share this now for two reasons: 

1. It's something that I have most assuredly spent lots of time crying over since then. 

2. My history with and love for the church is important to state, I think, given some things I need to share in the future. 

Xoxo.

Dearest (14 individual names were listed here),

On Mother's Day 2009, I was a devastated, newly single Mama of two, new to the area and desperate for connection. Going through a divorce, I was hurting and oh so vulnerable, and terrified to attend a new church alone. But I felt the calling to check Eastlake out, and I remember the first time I stepped in the doors, my heart breathed a sigh of relief.

I was home.

From my second time there, a message about committing to the church and not dating it, I’ve been all in. I’ve gone through lots of seasons, ebbs and flows of how plugged in I was, but I’ve always been for Eastlake.

The people at Eastlake have been the hands of God in my life so many times throughout the past few years. God used Eastlake to make my kids feel loved when their father abandoned them. God used Eastlake to make me feel valuable and worthy and protected and cared for when I was alone. I had an amazing community of Single Mamas because of Eastlake. Through an Eastlake growth group is how I met my incredible husband. And when we had a baby girl who died briefly, our Eastlake community surrounded us in amazing ways.

For the better part of the last decade, Eastlake has been our home. It’s where we found and followed Jesus – like the slogan used to be, and learned a new way to follow Him. It’s where we learned how to love people like Jesus does, rather than acting out of fear of eternal damnation. It’s where my heart’s cry was projected onto the screen during worship and I could sing and cry and feel God oh so close to me. It’s where I learned how to make my faith in God my own again.

For all of these things, I am eternally grateful.

Over the past year or so, there’s been a nagging sense deep in my gut that something was…off. I’ve ignored it for a long time, out of fear, out of a need to stay where I was. Over the past few months, I’ve experienced more confusion than I can remember as I’ve sought to unpack and uncover and unlearn everything I ever knew to be true.

This has been a painful and terrifying process, to say the least. But for the first time in my life, I have actively engaged in conversations with people who disagreed with me, rather than running away. I have had hard conversations with people strongly opposed to my new ways of thinking, and have done so in a kind and respectful manner. I have read and thought and talked and cried and struggled.

And I realized…it’s been a while since I truly prayed. It’s been a while since I truly spent time with Jesus.

So I started praying. Praying for wisdom, for clarification, for answers.

Ryan, you told me recently, “Trust your heart. Your inner goodness already knows what is beautiful, right and true.”

I believe you. And so with deep sadness, I have to tell you, I can no longer work out my faith journey at Eastlake.

As Greg and I have talked and prayed and studied together, it’s become more and more clear that we are no longer in the right place for the path we’d like to be on. Jesus is being phased out of Eastlake. Oh, He’s being emulated and that, we love and admire and long to participate in. But He’s also being demoted to little more than a great, mystic teacher, and that is where we need to stop, turn around, and find the path again that our hearts are meant to be on.

Our family has been shown nothing but love by each of you over the years, and we love each of you so much in return. At one point or another, we’ve shared important seasons of life with some of you. We are absolutely crushed to be leaving our church home. Eastlake has ruined us for any other churches and while we trust the Lord will lead us to our next right place, we will be grieving deeply for a long damn time.

You know I’m crying while I write this.

Thank you for all you’ve poured into our family through your work at Eastlake. We will keep you in our prayers, sweet friends, and we will miss you.

Xoxo.

Jaime, Greg, Jasper, Teiley and Quinleigh

:: oliver

I have a second son.  His name is Oliver. He's the bookend baby boy to my beautiful collection of children, and I've been praying for and about him since 2008.

And I'm still waiting to meet him.

My first son Jasper made parenting too easy on me.  Sometimes I think it would've been better to have one of my girls first.  They've been far more challenging, and after the initial 5 years of parenting the world's easiest kid and thinking I was an awesome Mama, it's been very humbling to be knocked down by them time and time again. Girls have always been harder for me.  It was astounding to see from the get-go how different they are from boys, (or at least from my boy), and how from day one the level of emotions is night and day different. Don't get me wrong...I adore my girls and I love the way we're bonding, and I love the relationships we're growing. 

But it's different with boys. I've always wanted another one.  Possibly because my relationship with my son has been so special to me over the past 15 years. That desire was only made stronger when I married Greg, especially because after Greg, there are no other males to carry on his family's last name. And his is a family that deserves to be carried into future generations. 

We've talked about Oliver often enough that the kids actually ask about him.  When he's coming, when we're making him, IF we're gonna go make him when Greg and I tell the kids we need some alone time.  Ha.  It's weird, honestly, but also sweet. I wonder often what he'll be like. Quiet and sensitive like his older brother? Or will he be the proverbial hellion who brings bugs home in his pockets and shoves food in our electronics? Will he give me constant heart attacks (like his sis Quinleigh) with his daredevilish ways? Will he want to work on cars with Daddy? Play drums with brother? Be artsy like sis Teiley?

Every month, when it's clear again that I'm not pregnant, I cry.

I've always gotten pregnant pretty easily.  I mean, I only have 3 kids, but they all happened during the "one time" protection wasn't used. They were all happy accidents. So the fact that we've not been preventing Oliver's conception for almost 2 years now and still have no baby is starting to feel pretty dismal to me. Two years is a long time to try and wait. That's 24 times of being heartbroken and disappointed. 

I'll be 40 in less than a year. This makes it seem even more impossible, I know women have babies in their 40's. I also know this just sounds scary as heck to me. Babies are hard and exhausting and I'm almost finally getting decent sleep at night now. So the thought of starting all over is overwhelming.

Plus, the whole traumatic experience we had with our 3 year old at her birth* is still fresh in our mind, when the topic of a new baby comes up. (And then the topic of HOW to birth that baby is a whole new topic. All my babes have been born at home because it's where I'm most comfortable. Q rocked my world sideways when she forced us into our longest hospital stay ever. So there's always the question: home birth? hospital birth? Gah.)

So...this is just me rambling. Sharing my pain on a topic I don't tell many people about. I know it's not the saddest story, and perhaps I should just "be grateful" for the amazing kids I do have.  I am grateful. But that doesn't stop the ache I feel when I see Mama's walking around with their sweet pregnant bellies. It doesn't stop my body from literally feeling like my milk is dropping sometimes. (And that is super weird, lemmee tell ya.) It doesn't take away the feeling in my gut that someone is still missing. That I'm not done yet. I just can't shake it.

Anyway. Mama's waiting for you, Oliver.

Xoxo.

*the short version of this is Quinleigh died in our bedroom when she was about 16 hours old. You can read her story as it happened on her Facebook page, Prayers for Quinleigh.