“That was a deer! Holy moly!”

“Did you hit it?”

“Is it dead?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I hear it. It’s under the car!” I slammed on brakes and listened to the clankity clank of the deer hooves under my car.

“Mama, look! I see his feet.”

Sure enough, the deer somehow ran in front of my car, bumped the front, rolled under the car, and scooted out the other side while the car was still moving.

“Mama! He’s standing up. Look at him.”

The deer wobbled side to side with a dazed expression, limped, and collapsed in the beam of my bright headlights.

I picked up the phone. “David, I think this deer is wounded. I hit him—well, kinda. I’m on our dirt road at the top of the hill. May have to shoot him.”

A few minutes later, headlights topped the hill, and my husband parked his truck. The door opened and shut as panic filled the deer’s eyes. If that deer was wounded, he forgot. Life suddenly filled his body, and he made a break for it—headed straight toward David!

My husband, literally blinded by the lights, was charged by a disoriented deer. Trying to dodge the creature he could barely see, he ducked and then took a shot in the general direction of deer out of sheer self-defense. The whole scene looked like something from a cartoon.

The deer ended up weaving his way down the dirt road like he was drunk and finally leapt into the woods. I have no idea if he died or was actually hurt, but I can say for certain that his experience with me and my car was one he wouldn’t soon forget.

And sadly, like the banged-up deer, we as Christians often leave banged up people in our wake—usually other Christians. As I walk car to car on Tuesdays talking to the folks who frequent our food pantry, the number of people who have been hit and are wounded by the church or supposed Christians is astounding. Many of our patrons are professing Christians and read their bibles every day but refuse to step foot in a church again.

My heart hurts, because often, like the deer running in front of my car, the whole situation was an accident. Other times, though, we consciously chose a selfish act and in turn, hurt another person.

I wish I could apologize to all the wounded deer. I wish I could make the bruises magically heal and fix all the scratches. But the damage has been done and there will be no forgetting any time soon.

If you have been wounded, like the deer, please hear me—that one incident, that one person, that one church is not the true representation of Christ. Keep seeking the real Jesus. Real love. Real hope. Real peace.

Jesus isn’t going to forget the wounded deer in the woods, either. He’s the one who leaves the ninety-nine in search of the one. But we have to want to be found.  And be willing to take a chance on God one more time. And the people of God.

Oh, wounded deer, it’s worth it. I, too, could have stayed in the woods, hit, banged up, and bruised. I’ll never regret trying again. Letting God find me. Reaching out my hand and taking his. Authentic followers of Christ do exist. And so does a loving, forgiving, compassionate God. Won’t you try again?

I would love to talk to you and listen to your story. Please reach out.

Also, read another blog I wrote on Church Hurt to go a bit deeper.