Wow, I am so excited, I don’t know where to begin!

For now, just let me say that I was really, really hurt for a really, really long time.  You may have already read about some of that.  Because it’s really easy to focus on pain – it’s just so darn painful.

And then, I was rescued.

It looks like I was tossed aside.  Or thrown out.

It looks like I was caught in sin.  But, really, I was rescued.

Not that I haven’t sinned – trust me, for a very long time I was the girl who was always raising my hand and confessing what a horrible person I was and am.

I didn’t do everything right, that’s for sure.  I’m not sure just what I have been accused of, but I could give you a litany of the many ways that I screamed, cried, stomped my feet, and demanded my own way – all in righteous indignation, of course, spewing theology and beating the pastor up with his own sermons for not treating me with Christian love and dignity.

After I was “restored” and allowed to serve again in the church, I kept trying to make him understand that the pain had not dissipated – and I continued to hound him for answers, for validation, for proof that I need not fear that the other foot was ever going to drop.

But I needed that foot to drop.

Because I had made the church and the pastor into a king and a kingdom.  I looked to them . . . him . . . for unconditional love, mercy, grace, forgiveness . . . unconditional.  Unconditional.  Unconditional.

But he was just a king in a tiny little kingdom right down the road.  And what I needed was a KING.

It’s hard to find a KING when all you are looking at is a king.

So, when my KING finally came riding in to rescue me, he had to tear me away from the king and kingdom.  Because even though they were holding bags of stones and were poised to hurl them at me, I was willing to stand there and let them.  They could have tied me to a stake and burned me in front of the entire congregation for all I cared – as long as it meant that I could be with the king in the kingdom.

So, my KING grabbed me and snatched me away – without so much as a “goodbye.”

It’s a wonder I didn’t turn into a pillar of salt, such was my longing gaze as I looked back at the kingdom and wished for the king to come for me.  I wept and beat my fists and begged, “Please, let me go back!  Please!”

“Please have the king come for me!  Please have the people in the kingdom beg for my pardon!”

But no one begged.  Or, if they did, their pleas fell on deaf ears.  And the king didn’t come.  No one came.

And neither did their accusations.  And neither did their stones.

If they hurled them, it was only at the ghost of me that was left to haunt the kingdom as people wondered where I had gone.

So here I am with my KING.  And He is tenderly speaking balm to my heart.

“Ellen, where are your accusers?  Ellen, look at ME. I am here.  I will never leave you nor forsake you. I have no stones to throw.  I love you.  Through and in spite of and no matter what.  You are free from the stones of those who would accuse you – the king and kingdom are far away.  And I am here.”

Sometimes, I still cry.  And beat my hands against the KINGS’ chest.  And beg to go back or for someone to come and get me.  Sometimes, I rail at the injustice of it all.  Sometimes.

And then I remember.

I have been rescued.  By the ONE who knows that I needed to be rescued.  From loving kings and a kingdom more than I should. So that I can love the RESCUER.  My KING.





  1. Scarlett says:

    Awesome Ellen! I can relate. Aren’t we glad KING JESUS rescued us!?

  2. Viktoriyah says:

    That’s my story… But it’s still very raw… :”-(

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