Growing up in a pastor’s home, I got to witness the stress of church splits, Negative Nancy’s, and Gossiping Gary’s. They were often the cause of marital strain, emotional overwhelm, and even severe Spiritual attacks. I recall instances of church meetings where my parents had to stand before disgruntled parishioners. One by one, they publicly shamed them and announced their displeasure because, you see, their sin was not moral impropriety, but rather their commitment to disrupt the status quo. Rather than keeping the church focused on tradition, my parents were seeing signs, wonders, and miracles performed in people's lives. They were committed to bringing in a move of the Spirit, incorporating choruses with hymns, and leading people to a deeper Christian walk. Even though they did their best to hide their pain, I remember seeing the anguish, despair, and sometimes hopelessness on their faces.

Even after seeing all of that, I knew that I had a call on my life and longed for the day that I would have a ministry of my own. I went to Bible College, married a pastor, became ordained, and served alongside my husband, serving the community and making a difference in people's lives. I thought I was living my dream. We even won awards from the city for our part in helping to decrease the crime rate because of our inner-city work. We endured multiple church splits, staff drama, and congregational upheaval.

With the immense stress of a thriving ministry and the demands of a growing team, after 25 years of marriage and the ministry, my life was turned upside down, seemingly overnight. Choices were made that were out of my control and led to the demise of our ministry and family. My world spiraled out of control and I had nowhere to turn. There was an unspoken set of rules in ministry…suffer in silence, trust no one, and push through it. Put on a good face and pretend that everything is great. I played the role well. Eventually, it all crumbled around me.