The Girl Who Dropped Jesus and Then He Carried Her

We may think we see a painful situation clearly. Then God gives more light.

For a long time, that was how I saw one upsetting event from childhood. But now I have a miracle. My Savior has consoled me in my afflictions. He has given me beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).

In my childhood faith community, we were taught that after communion was blessed, the bread became the literal body of Jesus Christ.

So when I say I “dropped Jesus,” that is what I truly believed happened.

The Moment I Dropped Jesus

It happened on a Thursday, when I was in second grade. After walking across the parking lot with my classmates to attend church, I'm sitting in the front row, excited to take communion for the second time. I don't have to wait long for my turn, but things don't go as expected.

When it's time for the clergyman to give me communion, he doesn't stoop down to carefully place it in my hand. Instead, he tosses it. 

Before I can process what's happening, that sacred gift is rolling off my hands and onto the ground.

I have dropped Jesus! 

The clergyman yells, "Pick it up!" but I don't know what to do.

When I pick up Jesus from the dirty floor, do I give Him back?

If not, will I get in trouble for eating something that's been on the floor?

Seeing my pause, the clergyman shouts,"Well, EAT IT!" 

From his expression and tone, I know I must be very bad.

It is a complete shift from what I usually feel in the beautiful church where I was baptized, which I attend twice a week. Light still pours in through stained glass. The beautiful mid-century tile mosaic still stands behind the altar. But today won’t cement the same things I feel each Sunday in this same place with my family.

Instead of joy and belonging, I feel shame.

After walking back to my pew, I try to pray, but my face gets all crumpled and the tears take over. For the next twenty minutes, everyone lined up on the left side of the church has to pass by me on their way back to their pews.

It feels as if everyone is watching. My classmates from first through eighth grade. Our teachers. The elderly congregants sitting in the back. With each passing glance, the shame intensifies and the crying worsens.

What is everyone thinking?

Can they hear me crying all the way at the back of the church?

Does everyone know I dropped Jesus?

After that, my memories of church and school return to what they had always been—mostly positive.

But that is not the whole story.

In high school, I start attending a new church and with that there's unexpected consequences. Adults outside my family try to influence me back and soon, things get pretty unhealthy. Over time, all of these experiences pile on, shaping me in ways I don’t understand for a long time.

As my husband will later point out, I am quick to think God is punishing me when things go wrong. And I have confusing ideas about God that are hard to put into words. Then there's the social anxiety that appears out of nowhere, but only at church. Compulsions to prove my worth (around church members). And, the breakdowns that come whenever I think I've failed. For a long time, it doesn't make sense how the smallest thing can leave me feeling unlike my self.

For nearly twenty years, I don't know what is wrong with me.

I have no idea how previous experience has woven fear and insecurity into the context of my personal spirituality. All I know is I love my faith and I love God, but sometimes things get weird and really confusing.

Another thing that doesn't make sense is the thought that sticks like a low background hum while sitting in Sunday services or interacting with others at church: Maybe you’re not as good as everyone here.

But eight years ago, I began experiencing miracles because my beautiful Savior never gave up on me. And until this day, they have stayed.

A New Normal

Key to untethering myself from false ideas about God, fear, and shame was facing spiritual wounds in an evidence-based therapy called EMDR through my faith community's social services. While facing old wounds, my Savior again stayed, helping me understand the past and my worth.

Then, He even helped me understand the worth of those who hurt me.

Ways My Savior Let in More Light

Throughout EMDR therapy, my Savior let in light. For example, the day I remembered what my parents had said about the clergyman who yelled at me in church: "His outbursts are because his mind hurts after serving in the war."

As an adult in my mid forties, that makes me think.

How do you minister to others with little to no help healing your own mind?

At this point in my life, I had envisioned storming into that clergyman’s office for years. “You made me drop Jesus! Then you shamed me in front of everyone!” That's what I thought I wanted to say.

I had no idea God had something better in mind—empathy.

And the impossible thing He describes feeling for an enemy—love.

Recently, another thought came, which has felt like one last piece of understanding: If that clergyman shamed a little girl at church today, you'd be the first to advocate for his mental health needs.

More Light

A few months ago, while making small talk with an xray tech, I learned something new about that clergyman (even though I now live several hours from the town where I was raised). The tech said that a clergyman once did something no one else was willing to do—pre-marital counseling for him and his wife as a young couple. Due to their upcoming marriage being one that was mixed-faith, everyone else had turned them away. When he said the clergyman's name, I couldn't believe it was the same one who had shamed me.

I've also since learned that after what happened at church, my teachers made sure that clergyman no longer led school services for students. While knowing that as a child would have spared me some anxiety each week while attending church with my classmates, I can’t blame the adults involved for not "handling it right." Would you believe, years later, while witnessing something similar between an adult and one of my own kids, I also didn't know what to do? Instead, it became another emotional trigger. I went home and cried like a child.

But even that is something my Savior has worked for my good. Not knowing what to do when my own child faced the same thing forever impressed upon me the idea that while encountering unhealthy behavior at church, it's not always Christlike to stay silent.

I used to see myself as the girl who dropped Jesus.

Now I see myself as the one He carried and picked up.

Every good thing I have is because of Him, and I put my trust in Him forever.