Thread by @BethMooreLPM

Last night the thoughtful & brilliant @KaitlynSchiess asked a series of questions that sparked some deep thoughts & interactions. For context, see screenshots of what I singled out to answer. My heart ached off & on all night thinking about some of the replies to her questions.->

I was too tenderhearted last night to bridge over to the good part. I’m trying to take the time to mourn a monumental loss in my life and not, in typical Beth Moore annoying optimistism, jump immediately to “let’s all get happy now!” This thread is to a very specific audience:

Those of you in Christ who feel displaced from your church or denomination but the communion of saints & the local church are essentials to your joys like they are to mine. I deeply understand why some are so wounded, they can’t darken the door of any church right now. I get

that. So this is not for you. If & when you’re ready to dip your toes in those waters, consider it then. Equally, this is not for those of you who have a church. I’m not proselytizing here. I believe God calls us to our churches and we stay & endure & serve & fellowship through

countless ups & downs. I’ve said over & over, I’m a stay-er. I’m not petty about a church. There’s no perfect church. And if I found one, I’d mess it up by walking into it. But this is for those who, for whatever very serious reason, could not stay. Have you considered trying a

Christ-focused, gospel teaching/preaching, Scripture-prioritizing church of a style different enough to not be such a reminder of the pain you’ve endured? The Lord led Keith and me to visit a liturgical church in early June. A small one. One that highly exalts Jesus & sees the

Scriptures as the Church’s final authority in all matters of faith & practice. I was so out of my normal world, I had no idea when to stand or sit or speak or shut up. I held my bulletin, shaking, & kept up best I could. I said that creed & those prayers & hung onto every word

of 3 solid chapters read from the Scriptures. All this time I’d believed that only my denomination really loved the Scriptures. Well, maybe also the Presbys. Tim Keller & all. When it came time for communion, Keith and I shot to that altar like starving people begging for bread.

I’ve never needed it so badly in my life. Keith cried like a baby through the whole service. My lip quivered and the tears pooled in my eyes but I did not break out into sobs until the very end when about six women gathered around me and said, “we don’t know why you are here or

if you will ever show up here again. We’d just like you to know we want you and welcome you.” I cried so hard that I never said a word to them. Couldn’t get one out of my mouth. That small fellowship has wrapped their arms around Keith and me. Their liturgy has put words in my

mouth that have filled me with so much hope again. Their focus on the cross, and on the sacraments and not just primarily upon what is coming from the pulpit has been like a written prescription for me in this season. In 1 million years I could not have imagined that this is what

God would use to sew up my torn up soul. I ask you to understand that I am not speaking poorly of where I’ve been. I’ve loved my heritage. I have been in so much grief. I never would have wanted to leave it. But having had to, God is healing Keith and me in a most unexpected

place. We’ve gone back every Sunday since, scooped up by a small congregation of some of the warmest, kindest, most joyful people we’ve ever met. I’m learning to say the Nicene creed. I’m learning how to drop down the kneeling bench. For this moment in time, we’re right where God

wants us. If enormous pain had come to us in this liturgical world, I would have found respite in a world like that of my heritage. My simple point is, consider a different way of doing the same thing: of worshipping Jesus, of hearing the gospel, of coming under the Scriptures,

even if just for a while. But don’t give up on church. The communion of saints is essential to the believer’s joy and growth and expression of spiritual gifts. I’m going to ask for one thing here from my usual critics. Have a heart today. The people to whom I have written this

are hurting. I am hurting. We are real people here who bleed when we’re cut and bruise when we’re punched. Very imperfect people but fellow humans who have lost something enormous. Just rest it for one day, one thread. And maybe pray for us. We need it so badly.