As I shoved the exit bar and the door swung wide, I said to myself, “I am never coming back here again!” My conversation with the church administrator had stirred up an overwhelming sense of not being seen or understood. I was triggered but was not ready to acknowledge it, even to myself. But no sooner were the words on my tongue than I began to wrestle with God.

 I argued with the Almighty as I drove home, crying without a sense of release. When I walked in the door, Sam was there. He heard my story, looked at me with compassion, then said, “You can’t quit. God has called you to this.”