100. Under the Missing Steeple (Ode to Tree Town)

What if I had just been quiet?


What if I hadn’t told a soul?



What if I had kept all the hurt and pain inside and let it take its toll?



What if I had told no one?


Just took it all in stride.


I mean, it’s just church, right?


It’s not like anyone died.




Would it have been so bad to just let it go?


To walk away, never look back, and never let anyone know




Would they still talk to me?


Would they pretend that it was all good?


But even if they did, I don’t know that I could…




Pretend that it never happened. Pretend that it’s all ok.


It’s just not how I’m wired, and I’m afraid that’s how it will stay.




You see, all those things did happen. Every word I said was true.


The preacher was abusive, and you will someday see it too.




I could’ve just been quiet and never made a peep


And then you could just play innocent and never lose any sleep




But now that you know, Now that you’ve heard


Because you know I haven’t minced my words



Will you pretend it never happened?



Will you think that you’re in some way better?


Will you keep going to church and say, “Just forget her”?




I could have been quiet.


It’s true that I could


But it wasn’t what I chose to do. Did you think that I would?




It's not as if you didn't know me. In fact, you knew me for years,


But then you turned your back on me when you didn't want to hear.




What if I told you that in the middle of the storm


There were moments I wished I had never been born



They said that they loved me, and my friends they would stay


But then, for no apparent reason, all three walked away



Those times were hard. The pain I felt was real


And it felt like maybe I would never heal



I bet you think, “Why wouldn’t they walk away after she’s said all this stuff,


Why would we be friends with her when she made such a fuss”



But let me remind you so that you don’t forget


What they did happened long before I ever started this



The blog came after the friends walked away


I just told my story after I knew they wouldn’t stay



Remember, control the narrative is what I was told


And in the beginning, I didn’t feel as bold



It took me a while to find my voice


And when I did, I didn't have a choice



But to say what I felt and let it all out


But don't think for a minute that's what they were angry about.



What they did happened long before the blog


Don’t act like you live in a fog



I just called you out with the things that I said


Until I did, you didn’t care if I was dead



But thank goodness there were those precious few


Who knew the real me and I knew them too



They listened when I told them what had taken place


They hugged me and loved me, and I cried in their embrace



If not for them, I don’t know where I would be


Because I needed someone to believe me



The victim doesn’t choose how they bleed on the floor


And It blows my mind that you could ignore




Every word, every story, all that happened to me


If I could write fiction this good, I would be



A best-selling author on shelves everywhere


Instead of writing a blog to simply declare



That Tree Town has issues, and it’s not alone


I’ll use my words to make it known



Sometimes I lose focus, sometimes I forget,


But nights like tonight cause me to sit.



And think and pray and want to see change


And keep telling the truth even when it seems strange.



I don’t want to be like you; there, I said it;


I want my eyes wide open and be able to admit



That for years, I bought in, but now I can see


This isn’t the way things are supposed to be



That may sound ugly or prideful, or wrong,


But I couldn’t continue to sing the same song.




Once I saw the truth, I had to get it out, and you know the truth, too,


You’ve read all the things I’ve written about




How long will you stand there and continue to say,


"What she said couldn’t be true. She just had a bad day".



“She’s lying; she’s bitter; she’s unforgiving and in sin”,



Just keep thinking that, but I know that in the end.




Each of you will someday see


That all those things really happened to me.


You’ll see it and know that it’s true


Because someday soon, it will happen to you.



How long will you continue to deny?


How long will you sit back and listen as I cry?



That whether you sit in the church under the missing steeple


Or find yourself in a group of different people



I write this to you in hopes that you’ll work


To understand why I found Life Beyond Church



And when the next person tells you that their heart is hurting


Even when you find it a bit disconcerting


Pay attention, listen, and embrace their broken heart


Because what if you’re missing the most important part



God sent His Son to die for the lost


And how many more have you laughed at and tossed


Out of your church and out the front door


Hear me when I tell you there are more



So today, as I publish this 100th post


I can tell you this blog has been one of the most


Painful things I’ve ever done


But on this side of things, I feel that I’ve won



Because getting it out has helped me to heal


From all the things the church tried to steal


Away from me and my family too


But in the end, it isn’t up to you



My story is mine, my hurt, and my pain


And in many ways, I’ll never be the same


But I’m glad that God showed me the true colors of people


And removed me from the church with the missing steeple



But when we walked away after years of service


I must admit that I was slightly nervous


How would I tell them? What would I say?


When they realized that we were walking away



They didn’t want to know what happened, so they didn’t ask


That way, they could continue to bask


Under the rainbows and sunshine, instead of admitting all the evil


That happens all the time underneath the missing steeple



The secretary had a stroke,


And the music minister could’ve gone broke


But you looked away and didn’t care


Acting all the while like you were unaware



And no one cared to think anything was unjust


Until I said, "Another one bites the dust"


Then people who hadn’t said a word for all those years


Acted like I caused the tears


But I wasn’t talking about their little friend


I was only pointing out what might have been


If she hadn’t had such a terrible boss


She might still be living across


The street where they put all the hired people


Who work underneath the missing steeple



What will you do if she starts a blog?


Telling people that actually the preacher is not like Paul


When he told her that her husband should be like Timothy


Because let me tell you, that slope is kind of slippery



I fear there is a common misconception


The truth is the pastor only cares about his own protection



If you think he really cares about you


I hate to tell you that it is untrue


When it comes down to him or you


Trust me, I know what he will do



Don't forget that this man prides himself on petting people


I'm not sure that kind of thing should even be legal


But even lawyers should know it's true


If he pets your wife, he might pet you too



The man cares for nothing but himself


And saw Tree Town as a place to build his own wealth


The bigger, the better, the brighter it is


The more money that will become his



Making disciples that Make disciples is what he will say


To see lives transformed at the end of the day


But he will dunk them and count them and keep making “goals”


And tell you, it’s all about saving the souls


I ask you now,  how does it make you feel?


That the souls of your children are only a big deal


Because the more numbers he has and the more baptisms he can show


Helps more than the congregation grow


As he baptizes your sons and daughters


And lays them back beneath the water


There's more going on than you'll ever know


There are goals in mind, and his staff members owe


A debt that will be brought up in their evaluation


And it's time that you have a revelation


What he’s doing is making things look good for him


So, in the end, you will give him a raise again



Let’s talk about how this preacher got to Tree Town


Because I will tell you that the committee went around


The normal way that things had been done


And listened as the good doctor told them about his “son”



There were those more qualified that had been selected


But the good doctor was one who had to be respected.


The good doctor, I tell you, he knew


That the pastor's home state would never do


For his chosen protégé’


There wouldn’t be any other way


Than to bring him to this state and get him to stay



What if it’s been the plan from the beginning


To get him here and help him in winning


The attention of the important people


That don’t even go to church under the missing steeple



The people that he’s hoping to impress

Are the ones that he hopes will bring him success


And that way, he can stand on a stage


And find himself turning another page



Tree Town, just wait, and one day, you will see


You’re just a notch in his belt; I can guarantee


He cares more about himself than any church member


And he doesn’t care if he leaves behind burning embers



You have my number. Call me, I give you permission


When you realize I was right and you should have listened


When he takes all the power and takes control


And the whole thing has finally taken its toll


On Tree Town Baptist Church


And people begin to search


For a different place with different people


Far away from the church with the missing steeple



Church wasn’t meant to be what it has become


I’m telling you this because you have become numb


Unable to see what the Bible really teaches


Because you sit in awe as your fake preacher preaches



In your pretty building with your pretty pews,


But I think it’s time that I share this news.



Can you see it? Can you feel it?

To you, has it occurred


That I might not be the only one Finding Life Beyond Church?


You might think I’ve lost it all, but let me tell you what I’ve gained


It’s beginning to feel like it was worth all the pain


My eyes have been opened. I wish yours could be too


Because when you see it, you’ll know it’s true.


When you’ve seen what’s behind the veil.


When you realize this could be the difference between heaven and hell.



When you see God’s love and all of His purpose,


And you know that He wants your devotion and service.


It’s all about Jesus and how we can praise Him,


Bring people to Him, and watch Him change them.


But it doesn’t seem like that’s what you want to do,


Even after I’ve told you the truth



So, return to your church and all its people,


And sit in your pew beneath that missing steeple.


Pretend it never happened and ignore that it did,


But I won’t ever be quiet because I loved your kids.


I worked, and I worked, and I gave, and I gave


And when it was all over, you treated me like your slave



Do you really think I did all that work for me?


I can't believe that you couldn't see


That the hours I gave were for the kids


I kept working even amid


The stress, the exhaustion, and the sickness too


I wanted the kids to know Jesus; surely you knew


I would work to the end, and this you should hear


It wasn't a job to me; it was a calling, simple and clear



But the pastor turned it into so much more


And in the end, it became a chore


To keep him happy so I had to leave


And it has taken me years to grieve




All that I lost, the things I had to let go


But it's important to me that you know


That I genuinely loved each and every child


And always went the extra mile



In the end, it didn't count


Because the pastor was only concerned about the amount


Of baptisms that came his way


So there's not much left except for me to say



Sit there in Tree Town, soak it all up,


But I’ll keep telling the truth; I’ll never shut up.



Why won’t I stop? Because people need to know


It’s time we make the church more than just a show


Abuse, cover-up, gossip, and discrimination


This is what the church has become instead of spreading the news of salvation.



It’s not just a place to go, not just a place to meet.



You may even need to give up your seat


For someone you might even think is beneath you



But you’ve been so arrogant that you have no clue


That you have wolves among your sheep


They roam about though they are discreet



They are on your committees, they are deacons, and some are Sunday School teachers.


They aren’t just sitting back watching from the bleachers


They are active, involved and appear to be good people


But there are predators underneath the missing steeple



They scream, and they lie, they abuse, and they use


Then they show up on Sunday and sit in your pews


And you might never know if you never ask


Because they hide behind a pretty mask



Plotting and scheming, they even handle your money


All while you think things are bright and sunny



Maybe you’re just shiny happy people


Hiding beneath that missing steeple



Turn the other cheek, make sure that you speak


Check all the right boxes, but in the hen house, there are foxes



Open your eyes, look under the hood


And trust me, when you look, it won’t look as good



Because you don’t want to see it, you just want to go


But that’s not how it works, and there are things you should know



Things need to change, and there’s only one way


You must listen to the things God has to say.


Open your eyes, open your heart.


Because I fear that someday God will tear apart



The club that you’ve built under the missing steeple.


And eventually, you’ll be unable to reach any people.



And maybe that's better; I kind of hate to say this,


But the fewer people who go there, the lesser the risk.



Because each one who walks through that door


Will probably get hurt. There's bound to be more



And it’s not just Tree Town; there are thousands of churches


Who ignore the abused, the lost, and the hurting.



God can’t be happy. He can’t be pleased.


What we’ve turned the church into should bring us to our knees.



So as for you, Tree Town, I will continue to use


The things that you’ve done, I will spread the news



Open your eyes, wake up, and see

And if you won’t listen just because it’s me



Then ask someone else and see what you find

I’m not the only one who has a story. Are you blind?



There are things that go on behind those closed doors


And I don’t understand how you continue to ignore



But if that’s the way you want it, if you can’t see the truth about people


Just continue to hide under your missing steeple.

Until Next Time,

Whitney