Dear Crossing Church,
I've been attending The Crossing for the past two-and-a-half years now, and I just need to tell you guys that you rock. Because of your loving and welcoming spirit, hearts of servitude and generosity, and all-out "crazy" church antics, I have come home to my Heavenly Father - against all odds.
July 20th, 2009 could possibly forever be the worst day of my life. I lost one of my closest friends, Joe, in a car accident two days after my 21st birthday. This hit me harder than anything I could have ever imagined. I've never lost anyone remotely close to me before, let alone the first man I ever fell in love with. When I think of that day, all I can remember is the crippling wave of grief and hopelessness that swept over me and began to consume me from the moment I received that phone call. I remember my knees buckling under me, my lungs burning and my stomach wrenching so badly that between forced breaths and choking sobs, I wanted to throw up. I remember running outside in the worst thunderstorm I'd ever experienced, to the bridge over the pond in our front yard and slamming my fists down on the thing until it hurt to keep going. The rain fell so hard that night, it was like God himself was weeping with me. I looked to the sky and screamed at God, asking him why he would do this to me, telling him I hated him, cursing his name. Because while I spent the last six years of my life prior to this day as an outspoken agnostic (and occasional atheist), I hated God.
And this was just the match that lit the bundle of firewood and gasoline I'd collected into a nice little pile of resentment over the years. Why should I love God? Clearly, he didn't give a crap about me. I was emotionally abused by an alcoholic father with a mother whose own borderline alcoholism was a means to escape her own victimization as a child. I was sexually assaulted by my childhood neighbor-friend's brother, and he repeatedly terrorized me to try and rape me, including pulling a knife on my younger brother as leverage for a "date". In school, I was bullied for being too smart, too respectful to my teachers, or being that weird chick who liked to draw anime. I was deeply betrayed by a friend who was so consumed by her own self-injuring addiction that she took her rage out on me. I was told many times by my paternal grandmother that I was too fat, or my dreams weren't good enough, or when I stopped drawing because I grew so weak from criticism that I lost my passion for it, she berated me and told me I was wasting my talent. I grew up in the Catholic church, believing that I was dirty because of the sexual abuse I sustained as a child, and that God would send me to Hell. He was a God of rules, not relationship. When I was in the 9th grade, I gave in to the emotional blackmail my father imposed on me to get confirmed against my will. I lied to a priest! And I believe that moment was when I finally decided that I was going to Hell no matter what. Screw it. I can't be saved. If there is a God, he doesn't give a crap about me. And my existence only got more miserable from that point on.
The day before my first day of high school, I got into an argument with my dad, who called me "an Atheist b**** who doesn't know s*** about s***" and I snapped. I cut myself for the very first time that night. And then I spiraled downward into a depression that grew deeper and deeper over the years - spurred on by my dad's car accident, when he drove home three times the legal limit and flipped his truck. It was nothing short of miraculous that he escaped with a concussion, bruised ribs, and a bruised liver when he wasn't wearing a seat belt and his air bag didn't deploy. Also spurred on by my younger brother's trip to rehab for alcohol and drug abuse, and the overall disintegration of my family while I was attempting to stay afloat in college. I ended up making it through my first year-and-a-half at college before getting expelled for academic failure. I took some time off and eventually enrolled at a local community college, where I managed to keep my head above water until Joey died and that cold, unforgiving hand of darkness grabbed me by the ankle and yanked me back under.
After Joey died, I lost everything. It was as if my world shattered; the ground fell out from underneath me, I couldn't breathe, and perhaps the most terrifying thing of all happened: I lost my identity. I didn't know who I was anymore! My relationship with my boyfriend at the time spiraled into sin, using sex as a means to escape my pain and the perpetual, sinking numbness that just wouldn't go away. I didn't smile for the first six months, which I believe scared my coworkers, because I was the girl that could always fake a convincing smile. I didn't laugh for nine months. And I didn't feel anything but pain.
A coworker of mine had spent a lot of time just listening to my tale of woe and angst, and suggested that I check out this church he played drums at in Zimmerman called The Crossing Church. While the thought of attending church for something other than a funeral for the first time in about five years was daunting, I found myself going. I thought that I had a crush on him, and what I now know to be my codependency was rearing it's ugly head and attaching me to the guy who was trying to bring me to the house because God told him I needed help. (It's awesome how God will use whatever he needs in order to bring you home.) I remember attending service a few times and crying for the first time in months, which terrified me. But I kept going back, and one night I went to the Elk River campus and after service, I found Pastor Eric and broke down sobbing. I don't even remember what I told him, but I remember the intensity of his eyes when he looked at me. It was terrifying, but comforting. I believe that was my first true glimpse of God's grace, because when he prayed over me, I felt as if something inside me was lifted. Like the first strike of a sledgehammer to the concrete walls around my heart that were holding in all of my fear and pain and resentment and misplaced anger. I remember him telling me it was going to be okay, and for the first time since Joey died, I believed it.
Then around March of 2010, I began attending Crossing Recovery, at my friend request. I had no idea what the heck I was doing there, because I wasn't an alcoholic or drug addict (...I made sure of that, after what happened to my father and brother!). I remember just standing there, looking and feeling awkward and out of place, and Pastor Diane approached me. I don't remember what we spoke about, but again, her eyes had that terrifying intensity and I think that was my second glimpse of God's love. I had barely met the woman and I spilled out one of my deepest secrets that I had never told anyone to her. And in that instant, I knew this was what I needed. So I began to attend CR regularly, along with church services every other week at best. And I began to discover who I am.
Hi, my name is Bri, and I'm a co-dependent.
Pastor Diane became my sponsor and we slowly began working those steps towards God and trusting him with my life, because that was hard when I had spent so much time living under the false pretenses of who this mighty savior was. But my first major breakthrough came on July 22nd, 2010. I had gone to Joey's grave on the anniversary of his death and spent the better part of an hour sobbing and grieving and apologizing. I remember clearly looking up at the sky and telling God that if he could just "let Joey off his leash for like five minutes, I'd appreciate it". Not sure that was the best way of going about it, but I digress. I sat there apologizing for all of the time I spent angry with him, and let him know that I forgive him for hurting me. For breaking my heart when he cheated on me, for accusing me of trying to ruin his relationship, for the pain I felt when his last words to me were "do what you want, I don't care". And I asked him to forgive me. As far gone as I was with God, I actually fell to my knees and submitted myself to him and asked for a sign that my departed friend had forgiven me. I received my answer two days later, when at CR, the talk had been about forgiveness. And it hit me like a freight train in small group while we were discussing the talk. I could barely control my tears and the feeling like if I didn't keep breathing, I'd forget how. I found Pastor Diane and explained it to her and all I can remember is my body trembling and tears in my eyes when I asked her if this was my sign. And I'll never forget her answer.
There is no such thing as coincidence in recovery.
GOD SHOWED UP. And that was when I truly began to heal. October 23rd, 2010 - I was about four hours away from my baptism when I left a voicemail for Joey's parents explaining that I was getting baptized and that their son's death brought me back to Christ. I sat there moping, saying that they wouldn't make it because it was too late. Lo and behold my friends, because right as they were going down the line asking people about what made them decide to get baptized, I see Joey's dad taking his seat on the bench. I grabbed the hands of the woman who is now my "church grandma" and began to weep in front of everyone. Because his dad was here, and God provided when I didn't even ask for it. It was my second miracle! And after that, I pretty much knew deep down that I belonged to God.
Not to say that it was easy after that, because it wasn't. I ended up flaking on my recovery program and trying to do it on my own while working two emotionally-taxing jobs and falling into old patterns again.
November 16th, 2011 - My employer closed down after being open for five years, therefore my last four-and-a-half years of employment withered and died right in my hands. However, this was the greatest blessing to my life! Instantly, I was forced with a decision: do I trust God through this, or do I go my own way and wing it? Obviously, I chose God. And I felt at peace for the first time in my life, because I could spend all my time focusing on God and ministry and seeking Him. I got back into recovery on December 1st, 2011 - got myself an awesome new sponsor that was hand-picked by Pastor Diane herself, and I ended up becoming a teacher in Crossing Kids, Jr. I began volunteering in the office, and in February I began serving in production on sound board for CR.
March 22nd, 2012 - After weeks of stress, and worry, and forcing myself to trust God for a miracle, I raised $1,400 and went with a team of nine other amazing God-followers to the orphanage in Haiti that our church helps sponsor. There we sifted sand and concrete, helped rip down the old kitchen roof, and got to share God's love with all of the beautiful, amazing children. God showed up immensely there and provided me with a loving family of brothers and sisters in Christ that I can always count on for prayer and support.
And today, after having fought my way through the fog of Satan's attacks and my own faults, I find myself in a place of true happiness and life change. I am working my steps, have given my resentments to God, am on the path to forgiveness and rebuilding my relationship with my family, and on top of that? After six months of unemployment and faithful (sometimes, excruciatingly painful and terrifying) tithing, God has provided me with a tax return at least five times over what I could've even hoped for.
I'm on the cusp of a huge movement of God right now, and I cannot wait to see how he uses me in all of my broken, hurting, crazy weirdness to advance his kingdom.
THANK YOU JESUS!
And thank you so much to every single person of The Crossing Church for your time, dedication, tithing, love, and faith.
Now I can be the one to tell other lost and broken people, "Welcome Home!"
-Bri
