A woman told me about a vulnerable time in her life. She and her husband had tried for years to conceive a baby, and kept losing them. Giving up on that dream, they pursued adoption. Three times they invested heavily in medical and legal costs, and each time the mother decided to keep the child. 

My friend reached her breaking point. 

 

As the pastor of a healthy congregation, she faced that her faith was in pieces. How could she stand in the pulpit and praise God when her identity was shattered? Her relationship with her board was both longstanding, and based on trust. She knew she had to tell them the truth. 

 

"I need to leave. I cannot serve you anymore. My faith is lost."

 

But they were not willing to accept her resignation. 

 

"We'll keep you." 

 

She was surprised, and tried to express that she was broken. Why would they still want her to pretend to lead them? 

 

Reluctantly, she returned to the job, though instead of preaching she led a reading group. All through the spring and summer she showed up, not because she was inspired, but because her board wanted her there. 

 

What she did not know was that they prayed for her. Every single day, those people bent their heads in earnest, asking God to protect her. Heal her. 

 

In the autumn, there was a shift. One Sunday morning, she decided it was time to put her collar back on. Standing in the pulpit, she had reconciled her reality. She had hoped to be a mother, yet she wasn't going to be one. That hard truth could coexist with her love of God. 

 

The sermon she gave that morning was spirit filled.