Back when I was in college, I visited a church in a small town in Oregon. For context, I was a young, 6-foot, 220-pound African American male who attended the University of Oregon.
An older Caucasian gentleman came up to me and said, “I know an athlete when I see one! I’m so glad you found your way here. Tell me, son, is your father in your life?”
After such an amazing time in worship, that question cut deep. In a place built on love, among fellow believers expected to display gentleness, kindness, and safety, I felt diminished, categorized, and misrepresented.
Unfortunately, that moment was just the beginning. Over time, I began to feel like a token, boxed into a stereotype, as if my presence was valued more for the church’s image than for who I am. After a month or two of attending, I decided I would never go back.
In a place where we expect to receive encouragement, feel love, and be seen beyond what meets the eye, we instead can experience some of the deepest pain, leaving us feeling unseen, used, and even broken.
Church hurt is real. Ignoring it, whether experienced firsthand or witnessed in others, doesn’t make it go away.
Often, this kind of hurt begins with an offense. It may come through a breach of trust, betrayal, or abuse—whether physical, spiritual, or emotional. In that moment of offense, a seed of pain is planted, one that can quietly take root and grow within the heart.
But let’s be honest, it doesn’t always have to start with something big. Sometimes it’s a careless word, a poorly timed joke, or feeling unappreciated after years of serving. Even the smallest offense can ripple into something deeper, shaping how we view the church and how we experience our faith.
In moments of offense, it can be hard to believe that God truly sees us, that He knows how we feel, that He understands the depth of our pain.
But the thing is, He does.
Luke 22 sets the stage for Jesus’ arrest. At this moment in history, Jesus spent 3 intentional years investing deeply in each of His disciples and their relationship. Despite the intimate time spent, Jesus still experienced betrayal and denial.
After Jesus was arrested and led to an illegal priestly trial, Peter, who was very confident that he was ready to go to prison and to death for Him, denied Jesus three times. He told others who knew he was with Jesus, he didn’t know “that man”. And Judas, one who was chosen, walked closely with Jesus and even had his feet washed by Him, betrayed Him for 30 pieces of silver.
After being denied and betrayed, Jesus understands what it feels like to be hurt by people you trust, people you do life with. He knows what it’s like to be let down by those closest to Him.
Yet, He stayed on course. He didn’t walk away from His purpose; He didn’t allow the pain of betrayal to redefine Who He is.
Instead, He chose forgiveness. He chose obedience. He chose to continue loving, even when it cost Him everything.
That doesn’t mean the hurt isn’t real or that it doesn’t matter. It simply means the hurt does not have the final say.
That’s what I chose. I gave the same church another try. I felt the Holy Spirit leading me back. And because of obedience, I met someone who walked with me and spoke life into me at a very critical point in my college student life.
Even though there was tension I had to wrestle with when I returned, I’m glad I chose obedience.
Because the same place that hurt me was also the place where God healed me.
I realized that my healing depended on forgiving the offense I had experienced. Forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending it never happened. It doesn’t mean we must immediately trust again or return to the same environment without wisdom. Healing through forgiveness is allowing God to meet you in that pain—rather than building walls that not only keep everyone out, but Him out as well.
As Colossians 3:13 reminds us, “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Even as He hung on the cross, abandoned by His disciples, Jesus chose to forgive. He extended grace to those who failed Him, showing us that forgiveness isn’t about excusing hurt—it’s about opening our hearts to God’s healing, even in the midst of pain.
That raises the question: “If I’ve been hurt by the church, why should I go back?”
At the end of the day, we don’t return to church because it’s perfect.
We don’t return because people always get it right.
We return because God is still good, even when people weren’t.
We return because He is still faithful.
Still present.
Still healing.
Still worthy of our trust.
And while people may fail us, God never will.
April 5, 2026 at 9AM,
10:30AM & 12:15PM
