Amy Holtz shares her testimony of being married to a sex-addict who was a seminary student and United Methodist pastor.
I did what had to be done. I took care of the kids and attended church but inside I was dead. There came a time where I believe it showed. A few sweet, older women of our church would come and encourage me seeing that I was visibly sad. They all assumed it was because I was homesick. So, they would sit down beside me on the pew and tell me about how they moved from home and how they understood. That was so painful for me. I wanted to lean into one of those dear ladies and sob into her shoulder. I wanted to tell her how difficult my life was. I wanted that so badly, but instead I thanked her for the encouragement.
That moment when she wanted to tell the ladies the truth but did not strikes me as a deep and dangerous one that gets replicated so many times in our congregations. I don’t fault the congregations, so much. The only person who could actually heal Amy was Jesus. And yet, her moment of pain on that pew sounds real to me.
As does the end of the piece:
Remembering all of this today has renewed a sense of gratitude in my heart over what God has done. I’m thankful for these memories of my past, painful as they may be, because they remind me of how big God is and how nothing is impossible for Him. And for that reason, I don’t ever want to forget!