So they’ve let your husband go; the devastation is creeping into your every fiber.

You’re experiencing shock. Denial. Anger.
(You’ll probably envision starting their house(s) on fire—if you haven’t already.)

I know.

You’ll feel utterly alone. The future is very, very dark.

Your entire body heaves with sobs.

heart physically hurts.

It’s hard to breathe.

I know.

You’ll wonder how you’ll tell the kids. Your parents. Your friends.

And then you’ll remember—you don’t even have any friends.

Not anymore.

I know.

Your parents didn’t want you going into ministry in the first place. (How will you tell them they were right after all?)

The anger will rise. You’ll feel rage you’ve never known before.

You’ll wonder: What was real? What was fake?

You’ll cry—with fists raised or from a ball on the floor—
“Was it all for naught? Why the hell did God even bring us here?!”

I know.

You’ll echo the psalmist David, wishing for wings to fly away.

Any place different—or ending it all—suddenly seems like a better option.

You’ll realize, with shame knocking at your soul’s door, you’ve never even sworn before—and now the only thoughts you have are strung with profanity.

I know.

You’ll start to think maybe they were right.

Maybe you’ve done something to deserve this treatment.

Maybe you didn't hear God all along.

Forced Termination. Forced “Sabbaticals” Coup d'état. Non-Disclosure Agreements.

Severance Pay—blood money.

"Don't tell anyone or we don't give you any severence."

Who wants blood money anyway?

I know.

And when you get through the initial 24 hours—telling the kids, moving your body as if every motion has to be intentionally and purposefully moved through thick, wet cement before it sets - the migraine-level headaches, heart palpitations, panic attacks…

When you face the people who still depend on you for a roof over their heads…

When you sit with any family that still cares…

You’ll be wide open to the shame-inducing, spiritually bypassing at best—and spiritually abusive at worst—comments:

“God has something better for you.”
“Maybe this was God’s way of pruning you.”
“Can’t you just get another church job? There’s an opening at my aunt’s church…”

To hell with your aunt’s church, you’ll think. (The thought will come faster than you know—it won’t even be a conscious thought.)

I know.

I could tell you the rest—and one day I will—but for today…

In these hours after receiving some of the most life-altering, devastating, earth-shattering news…

I want you to hear something else.

This is what you must know. Cling to it. Repeat it through the sleepless hours to come:

God is pleased with you.

This is NOT Him doing this to you.

Evil has entered God’s house of worship and has momentarily prevailed. But this is not the end of the story.

When you can’t even remember these words—when the blackness encompasses you—

Know this: God is singing this over you:

"Arise, my love, my beautiful one.

I am here to bind up your broken heart.

I am here to prophesy against the church leaders—to tell them I am against them.

The weak they have not strengthened,
The sick they have not healed,
The injured they have not bound up,
The strayed they have not brought back,
The lost they have not sought.
With force and harshness they rule over MY sheep.

Therefore, I Myself will search for My sheep and will seek them out.
As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered—so will I seek out My sheep, and I will rescue them.

I will seek the lost.
I will bring back the strayed.
I will bind up the injured.
I will strengthen the weak.
I will destroy the fat and the strong.

The Lord your God is in your midst—a mighty one who will save.
I will rejoice over you with gladness.
I will quiet you with My love.
I will exult over you with loud singing.

My eyes are gazing at you, righteous Child.
My ears are inclined to your cries—even when you have no strength to cry.

When you cry for help, I hear you.
I am in the process of delivering you out of all your trouble.

Meanwhile, I am near, Brokenhearted One.
I see what is in front of you. It will be rocky for a while—but after a little while,

I, the God of all grace—who has called you to My eternal glory in Christ—
Will Myself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

Child, you have done well.
Hold on to My right hand.
I will fight for you.
My Spirit will groan on your behalf.
I will redeem and bring new life to your bones.

I will grant to you: A beautiful headdress instead of ashes, The oil of gladness instead of mourning, The garment of praise instead of a faint spirit

That you may be called an oak of righteousness, planted by Me—so that I may be glorified.

I will fight for you.

Arise, my love, my beautiful one.
Come away with Me.”

(Excerpts from Ezekiel 34, Isaiah 61, Song of Solomon 2, I Peter 5)