I’ve been reading Jen Hatmaker’s memoir, Awake. For those of you who don’t know her, she wrote several popular Bible studies over a decade ago. A fabulous wordsmith, her studies required deep thought and radical action. I was an instant fan.

            But an earth-shattering event happened in Jen’s life around 2020. She found out her husband was in the middle of an affair. Her husband of over two decades. Her husband the founding pastor of their church. Her husband, her constant companion and best friend.

            Jen’s memoir is raw. It’s honest in ways most people would never share. And her exquisite way with words has made it hard to set this story down.

            While I sympathize with Jen and in some ways even empathize, my heart aches for her. All her years in church and as a leader in the faith community hold little weight in her life now. As everything that was once solid in her life falls apart, she is lost. Alone. And not even sure where to turn.

            My footing was jerked out from under me in 2009 when a friend confronted me in long-time addictive sin. Everything I once held solid, esteemed, and true came crashing to the ground. My reasons, purposes, directions, they collapsed. While the circumstances were different, the emotions were the same. Lost. Alone. Not sure where to turn.

            Like Jen, I realized the truth I was standing on was interspersed with lies. I was relying on the system more than the System Maker. The masks, lingo, roles, and obligations made up my foundation instead of the saving grace and redemption of Jesus. In seeking to serve I became codependent. In hoping to submit, I lost myself in the process. So much of Jen’s emotions were where I’ve walked over the last decade and a half. I found myself nodding and understanding so much of what she shared. But Jen and I did not come to the same conclusion.

            My heart ached as foul language showed up in most chapters. The “spiritual” things she chose to add to her life are more akin to New Age and the occult than anything like Jesus. While so much of the awakening she experienced resulted from therapy and soul-searching, Jen emerged turning away from the organized church and embracing a more worldly version of “whatever makes me happy”.

            I lost myself too, but I didn’t find myself outside of Jesus. I understand that the organized church is far from perfect, and there are so many times we elevate our humanness and neglect God’s design. But we will never find our wholeness in church; we will only find it in Christ. That’s when God places his people, the church, around us to walk with us and help carry our burdens. God’s heart, character, love, and grace are what point us to the truth, not an institution, expectations, or supposed truths we’ve wrongly adopted.

            Jen Hatmaker, in my opinion, wrote this memoir from a place of hurt, not healing. When we share our stories out of hurt, we don’t know the real healing that awaits us. It might take another ten years for us to see it, but if we never move out of the hurt stage, we can stay blind for too long. I pray Jen continues seeking until she finds the real Jesus. She has such a huge influence over so many women and they are following in her footsteps. We, as teachers, are held to such a high standard in the kingdom. May God open her eyes.

When things fall apart, what do we do? Do we look for God and his truths? Or do we crash and look at the world? May we seek God until we truly see him. Not a building or institution. But Savior. Redeemer. Way-maker. Our Hope.