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's how I saw something that happened in second grade. But now I have a miracle.

My Savior has consoled me in my afflictions.

He's given me beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).

I should probably start by explaining that in my childhood faith, we were taught that after communion was blessed, it became the literal body of Jesus.

So when I say I “dropped Jesus,” I don't mean that symbolically.

It's what I truly believed.

Dropping Jesus

It's Thursday, so my classmates and I walk across the parking lot for church. Sitting in the front row, I'm excited to receive communion.

It's only my second time.

Thankfully, I don't have to wait long for my turn, but things don't go as expected. The clergyman is tall and I am little. But instead of stooping down to place communion in my hand, he tosses it. 

Before I can process what's happening, the little wafer is rolling onto the floor.

I have dropped Jesus! 

The clergyman yells, "Pick it up!" 

Unsure of what to do, I hesitate.

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

If not, will I get in trouble for eating something off the floor?

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

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

It's a complete shift from what I usually feel in the beautiful church where I was baptized, where I attend church 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 what I usually feel each Sunday with my family.

Instead of joy and belonging, I feel shame.

Thinking of my classmates sitting in the pews, our teachers from first through eighth grade, and the elderly congregants in the back, I start to realize just how awful the situation is. I walk back to my pew, and pray for forgiveness. But for the next twenty minutes, everyone lined up on the left side of the church has to pass right by me to get back to their seat.

With each passing glance, the shame I feel intensifies.

I can't stop crying.

Does everyone know I dropped Jesus?

Can they hear me?

After that, church and school return to what they've always been—nurturing and positive.

But that's not the whole story.

In high school, I start attending a new church. But adults outside my family see me as a "lost sheep." Some try everything they can think of to try and get me back and things get kind of crazy. Over time, it all piles on, shaping me in ways I don’t understand.

As my husband will later point out, I'm quick to think God's punishing me when things in life go wrong. And I have confusing ideas about Him that are hard to put into words. Then there's the social anxiety 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, none of it makes sense. I don't understand how even the smallest thing can leave me feeling unlike myself.

This continues for twenty years.

By the time it all comes to a head, I'm not the only one who's confused. My friends and family also don't know what is "wrong" with me.

This is because no one sees my previous experiences. Like an iceberg, they only see what's on the surface rather than what's hidden underneath.

All we know is that I love my faith, I love God, and I love people but sometimes things get weird and confusing. No one sees the invisible fear and insecurity woven into my personal spirituality. 

More time passes.

Then my Savior gives me a series of miracles—it's like watching someone part my red sea.

A New Normal

Key to untethering myself from false ideas about God, fear, and shame is an evidence-based therapy called EMDR.

Each time, the therapist guides me through an exercise where we face old wounds, I lay it at the feet of my Savior.

He's not afraid or ashamed. He stays the entire time.

He helps me understand the past and my worth. He even helps me understand the worth of those who hurt me.

More Miracles

One day during an EMDR exercise, something my parents used to say resurfaces: His mind hurts after serving in the war.

It's their explanation for why the same clergyman continues to have strange outbursts in church. As a forty-something adult, healing from wounds of my own, I can't help but think, How do you minister to others when your own mind hasn't healed?

I had always envisioned storming into that clergyman’s office once I was a grown up. And I knew exactly what I'd say.

“You made me drop Jesus! Then you shamed me in front of everyone!”

I had no idea God had something much better in mind; the impossible thing He describes feeling for an enemy—love.

As I write this, another piece falls into place.

If that clergyman shamed a little girl in church today,

you'd be the first to advocate for his mental health needs.

A Last Piece of Light

Several months ago, another unexpected piece came while making small talk with an X-ray tech. Though the clergyman who yelled at me has been gone for many years now, when I mentioned the faith I grew up in and where I was from, the X-ray tech lit up.

He said a clergyman from the same area once did for him and his sweetheart what no one else would do—pre-marital counseling for a mixed-faith couple.

Everyone other person had turned them away.

When he said the clergyman's name, I couldn't believe it was the one who had shamed me.

This has cemented in me a thought I hope to always remember.

None of us are the worst things we've done.

We are not our weaknesses.

Our sins, or mistakes.

We are not our lapses in judgement.

We are His. Healed and Redeemed.

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

Now I see myself as the one He picked up.

Every good thing I have is because He carried me—and because of what my Savior has done.

Frequently Asked Questions

Can a single shaming experience at church affect faith long term?

Yes. A single shaming or frightening experience in a faith setting, especially in childhood, can shape how a person sees themselves before God for years, sometimes decades. Often, the connection isn’t obvious. What shows up later as anxiety or confusion in spiritual settings may trace back to an unresolved moment. Jesus consistently welcomed children and protected their dignity. His response to those who are shamed in faith settings has not changed.

What is a spiritual wound and how does it differ from ordinary hurt?

A spiritual wound is harm to a person’s sense of faith, worth, or relationship with God caused by painful experiences in a religious context. Unlike ordinary hurt, it affects how we experience God, not just how we feel about a person or place. Signs can include anxiety in faith settings, shame tied to spiritual identity, or feeling that God is disappointed. Jesus gives beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3), and these are the kinds of wounds He came to heal.

What is EMDR therapy and can it help people who’ve experienced difficulties in faith settings?

EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) is an evidence-based therapy that helps people process and heal from distressing or traumatic memories. It can be especially helpful for experiences connected to faith, such as shame, fear, or confusion from earlier situations. For some, including Jen, it creates space to understand the past more clearly while experiencing Christ’s healing in new ways.

Can Jesus heal shame that came from a religious experience?

Yes. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus consistently moved toward those who were shamed, excluded, or publicly humiliate, especially in religious settings, and He never left them as He found them. His Atonement reaches every form of human suffering, including wounds that happened in His name or in His house. Bringing spiritual shame to Jesus isn’t an “even this” situation. It is especially this, because He understands perfectly.