From Church Hurt to Hope

The alarm buzzed. I turned it off and rolled over, savoring the warmth of my bed. Big mistake. Before I knew it, I’d overslept. At 9 a.m., I sprinted downstairs, threw together some breakfast, and remembered my plan: I was finally going to church today.

Why was this a big deal? Well, buckle up, because it’s been a journey.

A Year of Church Drama

Back in 2023, my church split. Not in a “let’s amicably part ways” kind of split, but the painful kind, with leadership disputes and theological shifts. I stuck around for a year, hoping for resolution. But when it became clear there’d be no elders appointed, and the leadership steered the church in a direction I couldn’t follow, I made the tough decision to leave.

Let me tell you, it hurt. First, the split, and then realizing I didn’t belong anymore. It was like losing family twice. I resolved to give myself space to heal—no rushing into a new church. Maybe by summer, I thought.

Spoiler alert: summer came and went, and I still hadn’t found a new church. I’d visited a few places, like the local Messianic congregation. It was lovely until they started dancing and suggested we Gentile believers were part of Israel’s lost tribes. That was my cue to exit.

Next stop: a Free Evangelical Church. It started promisingly, with a prayer for unity. But then came the reason for the prayer—group cliques and division. Post-split trauma déjà vu. To top it off, the pastor dramatically lay on the ground during the sermon to demonstrate worship. I don’t remember his message, just the awkward question in my head: “How is this guy getting back up?”

The Morning That Almost Didn't Happen

After all that, I stayed home for weeks. But today, I was determined. Even though I overslept, I pushed through. I dressed, scraped the frost off my car, and headed to the next church on my list. With low expectations, I walked in.

And it was like stepping into an oasis.

A Church That Felt Like Home

The meeting room in the community center was full—simple but buzzing with life—100 to 150 people, all generations present. I slipped into a seat near the back, observing. I saw women with head coverings and others without—just like me. There was such variety in clothing styles, plenty of kids running around... A man, who turned out to be an elder, began to explain Matthew 16:13 with clarity and depth. This church didn’t stream services online, so I scribbled notes furiously, savoring every word.

And then came the highlight: communion.

This was what I’d been craving—a clear, heartfelt explanation of Scripture and the chance to celebrate the Lord’s Supper together. Before communion, the elder read passages from Ephesians 1 and 2. Would you believe it? I’ve been studying those very chapters recently. It felt like God had aligned everything perfectly.

The sermon, titled "Who Do You Say I Am?", swept away my doubts. I reaffirmed my faith in Jesus, and for the first time in ages, everything felt right. No fear, no anxiety—just peace.

A New Beginning

After the service, there was coffee. I mingled and discovered a few familiar faces—others from my previous church who had found their way here before me. It felt like confirmation that this might be a place to settle.

Here’s my notebook with sermon notes. I scribbled them quickly, so it’s a bit messy!

Now, It is evening and I’am sitting in my chair. It is dark outside. But inside, it’s anything but dark. I feel joy, peace, and gratitude.

Looking Ahead

After a year of wandering, I think I’ve found a church where I can let my little light shine. I’ll keep attending for a few months, praying and discerning. Who knows? Maybe this is the place where I can truly belong again.

One thing’s for sure: I’m thankful for today. For a God who never lets go and for a church that feels like hope

Biking to the Woods to Escape the Flu

My husband has the flu. I suspect it’s that strange new variant: human metapneumovirus (HMPV). He’s coughing, sneezing, and, most notably, dealing with a runny nose. It’s no fun. He’s afraid of contaminating me, and I get it—who wants to share that kind of joy? 

🤒 So, he keeps saying, “Don’t come too close,” which, honestly, gives me a little extra motivation to head out into nature. 

Abiding in Nature

Today, I biked through the mist to the woods, parked my bike, and oh, how wonderful it was to be back in the forest! It was a dewdrop celebration, a spider's paradise, a webbed wonderland. Without the wind, everything was still. The air was quiet, almost sacred, and I felt, in those moments, that I was abiding in God’s creation, surrounded by His peace.

Slow Down and Abide

I heard a woodpecker high in a tree and, when I stopped to look up, I saw him—too far away for a good photo, but still a beautiful moment. I walked slowly—very slowly—because, sometimes, you see more when you take your time. And no, I wasn’t having any spiritual revelations, I was simply present, breathing deeply the forest air, abiding in the stillness of the moment.

Noticing the Small Things

The scent of the forest was earthy, with a hint of coppery beech leaves and oak. Some freshly cut logs were scattered along the path, their peculiar smell mingling with the rest. It’s not exactly pleasant, but somehow it fit perfectly in the mix of aromas. As I paused for a coffee break, I realized how often we miss the beauty of small details when we rush through life. 

But today, I chose to abide in the moment, noticing even the tiniest of joys, like the droplets on a birch sapling and the spider sitting proudly in its web.

💧🕸️🕷️

A Rest for the Soul

Was this walk enough to keep the flu at bay? I hope so! I’ve just started to regain my energy after having COVID in February 2024, and the quiet rhythm of walking, breathing, and abiding was the perfect antidote for my soul.

Quote Corrie ten Boom

Back home, I wrapped myself in an electric blanket and reviewed my photos. The mist added a unique, almost magical vibe to everything. As I scrolled through my photos, I stumbled upon a quote about mist from Corrie ten Boom:

“Faith is like radar that sees through the fog. By God’s grace, we see by faith the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see.”

Abiding in Faith Through the Fog

This quote struck me deeply, reminding me that abiding in faith, even through the fog of life, opens our eyes to God’s reality beyond what we can see. It inspired me to share a little post on Instagram, and I’ll share it here too:

👀 I shared the Instagram post under the photo

🌫️ Walking through the misty woods, I’m reminded of Corrie ten Boom’s words: ‘Faith is like radar that sees through the fog.’ When I feel lost in life’s haze, I lift my eyes to Jesus. His love surrounds me, and by grace, I know I’ll never fall out of His hand.

👀 “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” – 2 Corinthians 5:7

👀 “Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.” – Hebrews 12:1-2

😞 Have you had the flu yet this season?
😍I’d love to hear your tips or a testimony about abiding in the Lord, especially as I reflect on my One Word for the year: 'Abide.'

Is There Light in the Dark? Yes!

 I haven’t seen the sun all week. The sky is covered in endless shades of gray. The early darkness settles in, and I slowly sink into my chair, feeling the weight of the day. I light a candle, and the soft, warm glow of the flame flickers gently on the table before me. 

A Moment of Stillness

For a moment, I just sit there, watching it dance in the quiet, the flame swaying ever so slightly with each breath of air. It’s a peaceful stillness. I could watch it for hours. You?

It brings to mind Jesus’ words from John 8:12: “I am the Light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” But more than that, I remember what He says in John 15:4: "Abide in Me, and I in you."

The Power of His Word

I open my Bible to read more, and I come across the story of Hanukkah, the festival of light, and how Jesus was challenged by the Pharisees in the temple: "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly." (John 10:24). He responds, "I did tell you, but you do not believe. The works I do in My Father’s name testify about Me." (John 10:25).

In the stillness of the afternoon, I reflect on John’s beautiful words in his letter, words I’ve wanted to memorize for so long:

What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the Word of Life— and the life was manifested, and we have seen and testify and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was manifested to us—what we have seen and heard we proclaim to you also, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. These things we write, so that our joy may be made complete. (1 John 1:1-4)

Wrestling with Doubt

These words are alive! They bubble with energy, offering me comfort, assurance, and light, especially when I struggle with intellectual doubts. I used to breeze past them, but not anymore. Now, I need the whole Bible to truly rejoice in God, my Savior. 

And that’s exactly what I do 🤗

Abiding in His Presence

Abiding in Him has become the source of my peace. When doubts arise, I focus on the One who has already spoken the truth and shown the way. God’s Word drowns out all other voices. “Whatever Jesus may be to others, to me He is, above all, God, praised forever!” 

—

😇 The final line is borrowed from C.H. Spurgeon.

A Christian Who Doesn’t Celebrate Christmas?

What do you call a Christian who doesn’t celebrate Advent or Christmas? Well, you’re looking at one. I’m that person. But before you gasp, let me clarify—I do love the cozy glow of lights during the dark winter months.

Two years ago, my husband gifted me a Hue lighting system. Yes, tiny little lights, and he even climbed up on a chair to hang them for me. (I know, the romance!) With a tap on my phone, I can change their colors. And when it’s 5 p.m. and already pitch black outside, I simply snap my fingers and voilà, instant glow. Behind the couch, there’s even a light strip—shining in the same cheerful hues as my string of lights. It's like I’m running my own personal light show. And the best part? These lights aren’t just for November and December—they shine year-round!

I get my love of twinkling lights from my mom, who used to say, “I must be like a magpie, drawn to shiny things.” I guess I’m following in her footsteps.

But back to Advent... and Christmas. I don’t celebrate either of them. I can’t focus my attention on just His birth, or spend so many days waiting for it. I am so blessed with Him, with who He is to me now, that I celebrate Him all year long. I read the Bible. I walk with Him. And honestly, I’m starting to think that’s my Advent calendar—one verse at a time, every day, all year. Often more, often a chapter, diving deeper. I love it so much. Well, I’m pretty sure the lights are on, even if the calendar’s a little… untraditional.

Secretly, I suspect my decision not to celebrate Christmas anymore is a reaction to the way Christmas was observed in the church I grew up in. You see, we Dutch have two Christmas days. And as an orthodox girl, I spent those days in church not once, not twice, but three times—because maybe, just maybe, Jesus would be born in the filthy stable of my heart. Maybe.

It wasn’t guaranteed, though. First, I had to discover just how filthy the stable was. Not casually, but in the proper, deeply introspective, spiritually approved way. And it had to be real. If the Holy Spirit didn’t lift the swaddling cloth and reveal the baby Jesus Himself, well, then He’d never be born in my heart. Christmas was essentially an intense “look inside yourself and find true guilt and brokenness” kind of day.

The Christmas tree? Forbidden. Tinsel and fairy lights? Out of the question. But as a child, I did receive a single orange and a book about a kitten named Marja at the elementary school Christmas party.

Which brings me to this question: could it be that, in rejecting Christmas entirely, I’ve thrown the baby out with the bathwater? Perhaps—at least partly.

And yet, it feels so freeing to let go of specific days, months, and rituals. To simply live in the joy of His presence every day. Or, as the song goes:

Give Me Jesus

In the morning when I rise, give me Jesus.

And when I am alone, give me Jesus.

And when I come to die, give me Jesus.

Refrain:

Give me Jesus,

You can have all this world,

But give me Jesus.

• All photos were taken by me at an earlier time.
• I write about my childhood and the church of my youth HERE.

When 'Abide' Found Me: Starting Early for 2025

Alright, so here we are. I’m doing it. Starting early. A whole month ahead of schedule, no less. You know that "One Word" challenge everyone does at the start of the year? Well, I didn’t join in. I scoffed at the idea, thinking, “I don’t need a word to define my year.” But now, as 2024 wraps up, I’ve realized – with a bit of surprise – that the word found me. And I can’t help but laugh. It’s a little embarrassing, honestly. 

I didn’t pick it. It picked me.

That word? Abide.

Let’s be honest: Abide isn’t exactly the most glamorous or trendy word out there. It doesn’t have the sparkle of “shine” or the punch of “growth.” It’s just... stay. But somehow, in its simplicity, it’s exactly what I needed.

Resting Under God’s Wings

The word came to me when I least expected it, during a season of church wounds, navigating the painful aftermath of my hyper-Calvinistic upbringing. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this word, abide, was exactly what I needed. It gave me permission to take a step back, to rest under God’s wings, and to stop rushing. I didn’t have to fix everything right away. I didn’t have to know what was coming next. It was about staying in His presence, trusting that He had me, and that would be enough.

Funny enough, abide became my anchor, pulling me back whenever my mind started wandering into the dark corners of past hurts, intellectual doubts, or, let’s be real, a bit too much enthusiasm that would occasionally lead me to lose my way. Whenever I started veering off track, abide whispered, “No, stay. Rest. You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

Taking Time with My Story

And then, the cherry on top: abide helped me finally start writing a memoir. I’ve been wanting to share my story for years – a story of growing up in a church where it wasn’t always safe to “just be”. But now, with abide, I can take my time. I don’t need to rush through the healing process or force the creative journey. I can stay in the process and trust that it’ll unfold at the right pace.

Link to Aritha's Dutch Writing Journey Blog

A Word That Moves Into 2025

So here I am, at the end of 2024, realizing that I didn’t join the “One Word” challenge, but I’ve already been living out my word in a way I didn’t expect. And that’s okay. In fact, it feels like the perfect timing. I’m starting early, yes, but it’s because God has already started this work in me. Abide is the word that has been with me all along, and now it gets to move into 2025.

While I’m embracing this word, I’m also fully aware that it’s His timing that truly matters. It’s about trusting that He will lead me where I need to go, in His time, not mine.

Linked to: Give Thanks to Your One Word of the Year