Hi, my name is Leslie and I’m a recovering church kid. Okay, I’ll confess, I wasn’t just a church kid…I was a PK. Not only did I spend most of my childhood as a “Pastor’s Kid” but I come from a long line of ministry. It’s the family business. My almost 75 year old grandpa is still pastoring.

As a kid I didn’t harbor unexpressed hatred for the ministry, but as a silent sufferer of significant social anxiety, I was uncomfortable a lot of the time. And for years, that was my biggest complaint. I knew that it was what my dad was called to, and by default, our family as well, to some degree. I understood that there were a lot of other people that needed my dad and that he was always “on-call”. I didn’t resent the fact that people lined up to talk to him after service and that we were always the last ones to leave. It was my normal. I had been in church quite literally since I was brought home from the hospital as a baby. It was my life.

Church was a second home…
Until it wasn’t.

One of the greatest things about being in a ministry family is you have a front row seat to see God work in the lives of people all the time.
One of the hardest things about being in a ministry family is that you have a front row seat to see…well, people.

We are all imperfect beings in need of a Savior. That is true whether you come from a long line of ministry or not. As a result of this “front row seat” I saw some things that really altered the way I viewed church. It was not a home anymore. It wasn’t a safe place. It wasn’t looking a whole lot like the church Jesus talked about.

Now, I am not referring to any one church, or one particular experience. This disillusionment came as a result of a combination of multiple experiences. Sure, I had seen some really wonderful things that God had done. But I had also seen so many terrible things that “His” people had done and after a while, I couldn’t see past it.

I had seen church politics tear families apart. I had seen a hunger for power and control break friendships. I had seen broken people become more broken as a result of being judged rather than accepted. I had seen Scripture twisted so that it spoke more of fear and judgement instead of love and grace. I had seen people hurt other people without hesitation in the name of Jesus. Some of the people closest to me were deeply hurt by some of these things and I was hurt in the crossfire. After the dust began to settle I found that one of my deepest hurts was from the disappointment. I grew up with a dad who passionately believed in the kind of church Jesus talked about in the New Testament. He believed in the kind of church that gravitated towards the broken and unloved rather than turn away from them. He dedicated his life to trying to be that kind of person; to love that way.

About 7 years ago I reached the point where I loved Jesus, but couldn’t stand to be in church. A few years later when I moved away, I didn’t try and find a church. I was happy to further my spirituality and relationship with God without having to deal with church. During these years I had some of the greatest conversations with my dad about religion, spirituality and life. I was free of the negativity that came with attending a church. I had no intention of ever going back to church life. As life would unfold a couple of years after that, I would learn that my plans or intentions really didn’t matter much.

In June 2012 my dad passed away unexpectedly and in an instant it felt as though my whole world came crashing down in pieces all around me. Shortly after, I moved back home to be with my family. Devastated, broken hearted and lost, I gravitated toward familiar people and places. Church was one of those places. My mom and I visited some of the churches we had once attended with my dad. We were always welcomed with open arms, but the memories of time spent there with my dad proved to be too much.

In December 2012 my mom and I were invited to the Christmas program at Eastside Christian Church. I was blown away by the production quality but I was more impacted by the pastor. At the end of the program he got up on stage and sort of recapped the Christmas story. I quickly gathered that he was a great communicator and he seemed like a nice guy. He closed in prayer and that was that. As I sat there and waited for the room to clear out a bit it hit me…in the most non-threatening, conversational way, Gene gave a mini-sermon and invitation to salvation and I didn’t cringe once. There was no threat of hell, judgement, or guilt trips. It was all so genuine, grace-filled, and easy. I told my mom that we needed to come back and visit after the holiday…I needed to know if this place was for-real.

The next time we went back, it was a particularly hard day. The grief of losing my dad was hitting hard, reaching out for hope, we managed to get ourselves there. The worship team came out and Joel Johns was leading. He began to speak of his own struggles and brokenness. He spoke honestly about where he was at that day. And led us in the song his needed to sing. It happened to “Blessed Be Your Name”. He really emphasized the importance for him to sing “You give and take away. You give and take away. My heart will choose to say: Lord blessed be your name.” It turned out that it was what my heart needed to sing too. I never would have guessed that a church that had each service so well planned would have allowed for something like that. Clearly, Eastside was a place that not only welcomed, but embraced and supported people going through difficult seasons.

At the end of that service my cousin Isaac took us to meet Gene. I would have never guessed that one of the main pastors of a church this size would be so easily accessible…or real. As Isaac introduced us he made mention of the fact that we were all facing the loss of a loved one.I lost my dad in the summer, Isaac lost his mom that fall. Without hesitation, without knowing us, Gene asked if he could pray with us…and then he did. (I would later find out that Gene lost his dad early in his life and could truly relate to what I was going through.) I was speechless. All of this was real. Eastside was the real deal. These were real people. They had pain and struggles just like me and I didn’t have to hide them. It’s almost as though they like broken people more than fixed people. On the outside, everything about Eastside was different than anything I had experienced before, but on the inside there was something familiar. I couldn’t quite figure out what was so familiar, and then it finally hit me. That familiar thing I felt was the feeling of being home.
Why did I share all of this? Because last week at Eastside they were painting messages on car windows and even I couldn’t believe which message I chose…

It took a long time and a lot of grace to get here and it wasn’t easy. But not only do I still love Jesus…I love my church too.

Thank you Gene and the entire Eastside community for creating a place that I could call home.