My husband and I were in the midst of a separation. I was hurt and broken, but decided to attend Sunday Service. I arrived late and crept to a seat in the back to avoid being noticed, but it was futile.  The stares and whispers made me shrink into the cushioned bench. I was definitely leaving before the benediction. As service drew to a close, I gathered my personal items and looked around for my quick escape. Before I could get up, I heard my name boom over the mic.  I debated making a run for the exit, but I knew that would only add fuel to the fire.  Reluctantly and red-faced, I walked down front.

I stood with my back to the congregation, but I could feel every eye gawking at me. There was an awkward silence lingering in the packed sanctuary. I didn’t look up and prayed nobody laid hands on me. With my head bowed, I endured the open mic prayer that seemed to last forever. I bolted toward the wooden double doors as soon as the word “Amen” was uttered.  Angry, hurt and embarrassed, I ran to the parking lot. My hot tears blinded me as I searched for my car. I couldn’t breathe; I was lost! “God help me!!” I needed to get away – from everything and everybody: the church, people and God.

Five years went by fast.  I’d buried my pain deep in the pit of my soul and moved on with my life. Detached from family and friends, I moved in with my my new man, even though I was still married. I was done with the “good girl” image and living my life – happy and free… well, except at night, when I couldn’t sleep. Awake in the late hours of the night, I would death-stare at my man, while he slept like a baby. He could fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. I envied his ability to rest. It annoyed and angered me: The nerve of him to sleep while I’m wide awake.

I was easily agitated and my self-esteem shaky. Reeling from the failure of my marriage, I often wondered, “Why wasn’t I good enough to keep my marriage together?” All my pent up emotions and hostility began boiling over. I was paranoid, anxious and on the edge of a complete emotional breakdown.  At times screaming at the tops of my lungs: “I just wanted some peace!!!” The heartache was overwhelming and I was losing my grip. Then I got dumped… because I was too fat.  Depression gripped and swaddled me like a newborn. I felt abandoned, unattractive and undesirable. Nobody. Wanted. Me. I’d alienated my friends and felt so alone.

To make matters worse, I needed a car. I hadn’t prayed in years, but I made a deal with God: “If you let me get a car, I will attend ONE service.”  Driving off the dealership lot, I contemplated keeping my end of the deal.  I guess I could go to one service – but I was NOT going back to that last church.  I walked into the service, determined not to engage – I was here ONLY to keep my end of the bargain.

The worship was alive and melted my walls of armor. Tears streamed down my face….it felt like fresh cleansing rain… my hands were in the air and before I knew it, I was walking to the altar in surrender.  This was what I’d been longing for. Sorrow and guilt drained from my pores as the woman intensely prayed for me. Snot dripped and my hair matted to my face while I cried tears of relief and anguish.  This strange woman wrapped me in her arms and rocked me into a state of peace.

Through that experience, I discovered no matter how far we run or fall, God’s love never ceases.  “The overwhelming, never-ending reckless love of God: It chases me down; fights until I’m found. There’s no wall He won’t knock down [and] no mountain He won’t climb up, coming after me!” Who can comprehend the length, width, height or depth of His love?

In this time of  distancing, we must remain attached to God. We may feel isolated, but God is present. He is covering us with His mercy and grace.  And He will never give up on us, even when we give up on Him.  He is always waiting with everlasting love and open arms.