Letter from a Retreat Participant
There is a compelling moment in the movie, "Forrest Gump," when Jenny runs out of rocks to throw at the house where she was abused as a child. Tom Hanks quietly says, "Sometimes there just aren't enough rocks."
Two weeks ago at the Ministering to Ministers Wellness Retreat I was able to throw my last rock at the people who conspired to end my life as a minister of the Gospel. While there are still plenty of rocks to be thrown, they can now be left on the side of the path. Charles, you were God's instrument to help me accept my past with peace and, even more, allow me to hope for the future.
I can't even begin to express my deep gratitude for you and your ministry. You were the first person to listen to my story and you did so with kindness, appreciation and understanding. You were able to do that because you, along with everyone at the retreat, walked through the dark cavern called "failure." You had experienced the same loss of reputation, which is utterly destroyed as those responsible seek to justify their actions by telling lies upon lies about you. You had first-hand knowledge of the loss of support and even friendship from other pastors and you knew the darkness that settles on a family when someone they love experiences this horrible grief.
Acquaintances offer shallow, spiritual platitudes not realizing that their best efforts at comfort only pile coals on the smoldering fire of loss. On the other hand, you genuinely helped to put the fire out. Thank you!
I know, now, that there are a lot of other men and women who are dealing with this same issue. They feel alone, cut off, spiritually betrayed and abandoned by God. I encourage you to continue this wonderful ministry and pray that it will grow and expand to reach many more who have given their lives to serve our Lord but have been grievously wounded in that service.
Just last week I was in Cumberland, MD watching my niece graduate from her Christian School. Steve, their forty-five year old youth pastor, had been asked to leave the church. This church had been his home and his ministry for the past fifteen years. The new pastor wanted someone younger and "cheaper." He had nowhere to go but expressed confidence that God would open a door. But, when I saw his deep pain and his brave attempts to be positive, I could only hug him tightly. I told him about my forced termination and in that moment, he knew that I knew. Tears came to his eyes as I told him that there were many other pastors who shared his journey. I gave him your name and am fairly confident that (like you did to me) after we call again and again, there will come a day when he will be able to accept the help that our Lord offers through you.
A Pastor from a Mid-Atlantic state