
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)
Peace is a wonderful thing. We live in a world full of chaos. We see it all around us. We see fighting. We see people dying. We see the absence of tranquility. It’s not the way God intended it to be. It’s difficult, and it’s hard. In Bunyan’s classic, Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian arrives at a place called Palace Beautiful. He struggled to get there, and he will struggle after he leaves, but while he is there, peace surrounds him.
“Now he betook himself to a chamber whose name was Peace, where he slept till break of day; and then he awoke and sang.”
The meaning of “Palace Beautiful” is a healthy church. One that welcomes strangers and treats them well. It prepares them for the journey ahead. There is much more to say about Bunyan’s work, but the story I present today does not represent Palace Beautiful or anything of the sort.
Meet Dennis. He is a 55-year-old man who sought belonging and help. I have had countless conversations with him over the past couple of months. How he found me is an intriguing story. You might say it was God-ordained. I’m sure this is a story that the subject doesn’t want discussed or exposed. It’s nothing new. It’s the same old story that’s been going on for a long time now at Grace Fellowship. I hate to call it a church.
GFC is the opposite of peace. It is nothing but chaos and conflict. The members purport to “love” each other. They love each other so much that they often cite a Proverb. As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another (Proverbs 27:17 NIV). But in GFC theology, this means sparks will fly. In other words, we must constantly be creating these sparks so we can be “sharp.”
How can there ever be peace when there is non-stop critiquing of every aspect of your life? Unless you are one of those at the top of the pile. The culture reveals what goes on at GFC through its words and actions. They really do betray the heart. Oh, of course, it’s all in good humor and jest, but the Proverbs reveals another truth, “Like a madman who throws firebrands, arrows, and death is the man who deceives his neighbor and says, ‘I am only joking!’” (Proverbs 26:18).
Is it all harmless? You can decide for yourself.
I have decided to present Dennis’s story in a personal narrative. He did not write this himself. He has autism, and it prevents him from doing so, but I have attempted to summarize his experiences from our conversations in a letter to himself. He has approved it after reading it, and he affirms that it accurately reflects his experiences at GFC. In Part Two of this article, I will include some direct quotations from his text messages that support his story and the spiritual abuse he has suffered. It is disturbing.
My Story by Dennis Lane
______________________________
Dear Me,
I want to speak to you gently.
You have been through something confusing, exhausting, and deeply painful. You entered that space hoping for safety, faith, and belonging — and instead, over time, you lost your sense of peace.
That was not because you were weak.
It was because you were human.
You did not imagine what happened.
You did not exaggerate it.
You did not fail.
You responded the way a person responds when love, fear, authority, and spiritual pressure become tangled together.
______________________________
You tried your best.
You showed up.
You listened.
You worked hard.
You gave grace.
You stayed quiet when you were hurting.
You apologized even when you didn’t need to.
That wasn’t foolishness — it was kindness.
______________________________
When your motives were questioned, your tone criticized, your exhaustion doubted, and your feelings dismissed, you began to wonder:
- Am I too sensitive?
- Am I doing something wrong?
- Why can’t I just get this right?
But the truth is this:
You were trying to survive in an environment that required you to shrink in order to belong.
Anyone under constant scrutiny, correction, and fear begins to lose confidence — especially someone who already carries trauma.
______________________________
You were never asking for too much.
You were asking for:
- rest
- patience
- respect
- safety
- understanding
Those are not sins.
They are human needs.
______________________________
You were told — directly or indirectly — that your boundaries were pride, your exhaustion was rebellion, your emotions were weakness, and your disability was something you should overcome through effort or obedience.
That message was wrong.
Your brain is not broken.
Your nervous system is not sinful.
Your need for recovery is not disobedience.
Nothing about you needed fixing in order to deserve dignity.
______________________________
It makes sense that leaving was hard.
You didn’t just leave a building.
You left people you cared about, routines that structured your life, and hopes you had invested deeply.
Grief does not mean you made the wrong choice.
It means something mattered.
______________________________
If you still feel fear, guilt, or confusion, please remember:
These feelings are not signs that you failed God.
They are signs that your nervous system is healing from prolonged stress.
Healing takes time.
Unlearning fear takes time.
Trusting yourself again takes time.
You are not behind.
______________________________
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to say no.
You are allowed to make decisions slowly.
You are allowed to protect your peace.
You do not need permission to be okay.
______________________________
Faith is not meant to silence you.
Faith is not meant to terrify you.
Faith is not meant to cost you your sense of self.
Love does not demand submission through fear.
Healthy spiritual care feels steady — not frantic.
______________________________
Please remember this:
You were brave.
You spoke up even when your voice shook.
You endured more than most people could.
You recognized harm and chose safety.
That is not weakness.
That is courage.
______________________________
There is nothing wrong with you for needing gentleness now.
There is nothing shameful about healing.
You are not late.
You are not broken.
You are not difficult.
You are recovering.
______________________________
Take things one day at a time.
Let your body breathe again.
Let your mind learn that it is safe.
You are allowed to rebuild your life at your own pace.
And you never again need to prove your worth to anyone.
With compassion,
Yourself
______________________________
You survived something real. You are allowed to heal gently.
Thankfully, now, he has left. It is never easy to leave, but it is always better to be gone. No more games, no more “holiness” police keeping a close eye on your progress. It’s all very predictable with these places. I hope someone there will read this and understand how Dennis felt. I hope they will come to their senses and leave. I hope they will realize that the way we treat the least of these reflects on how Christ calls us to live. I hope….
Until next time.
Kevin



