Church – By Leslie Salazar

Finding Hope After Church Hurt

I can’t express how relieved I am. Finally, I was free to tell our story. It’s not just mine, but also the story of all the people before me.

If you’re just tuning in, it can be heartbreaking, messy, and sometimes too much information. I hope you understand that my heart is not to throw stones or to create drama. What is done in the dark, must come to light. And it’s not fair to victims who have struggled with this in silence for over 10 years. If I’m the one that has to share for them, I will.

Part 2 is a little different. I want to tell you how I am standing now, still holding on to God, still believing, still hoping. And that sentence makes it seem so easy, like I’ve been steady these past 7.5 years, but I haven’t.

After that difficult conversation of me leaving the church I had served at, I was okay. I felt a new freedom and though I was hurting, I was happy to serve somewhere and still grow with God. I went to a Houston megachurch, joined a small group, and sat in services receiving and preparing myself to serve. I had a small negative experience in the small group with one of the leaders. After some time, we decided to move on to another church. At this church, which is the current church we still attend, we jumped right in. We served on Sundays and hosted small groups. We attended both services. We showed up to serve events and every event that needed volunteers. I felt strong enough. And somewhere in this season, I also had a negative experience with a leader. They triggered everything we had grown up hearing and experiencing. I ran hard and fast away from all things ministry. I felt like toxicity was everywhere within the church. There seemed to be no point in trying to serve or be involved. Eventually, I believed you would encounter the politics and people spiritually abusing others.

The pandemic happened and we became parents, so church was the last thing on my mind, which was unusual. I had gone into survival mode and relied on my hyper independence. I got me, I got it, I can figure it out. I’m not sure how it happened but little by little, my heart grew numb to anything related to God. I barely listened to my pastor’s messages and half of what he said made no sense to me. The songs triggered me and I would argue in my head with myself and probably with God. Oh loving? Oh you make all things new? You don’t fail? Why is there still a man out there living a secret life, while me and others are hurting? Who was protecting them? Who was looking out for them?

These were the conversations I would have any time I showed up. I started questioning if God even existed. In May of 2022, I began looking for information about atheism. I also explored deconstruction, but the kind that doesn’t lead you back to God. I even started reading a book about walking away from Christianity. I was desperate for clarity. I questioned if our desire to hope makes us believe in things that aren’t real. The problem with this is that from a very young age, I knew God. Without my family raising me in church, I had a relationship with God. I couldn’t deny the ways He had moved in my life. He brought a miracle when I most needed it. I was having an internal battle trying to decide what I was going to do. How would I raise my kids? How would I move forward in my marriage if this is the foundation we had chosen? Like I’m married to a PASTOR. How would we move forward as a wife who was no longer Christian?

Somewhere in the last 6 years, I forgave that man. I realized that I was only living life full of bitterness and it was doing NOTHING for me. A major part of my healing was realizing that he too was a child of God. *Cue eye rolling* but it’s true. If you are a believer, this is the piece of the story that truly got me. He too was chosen. He too was loved. He too was forgiven. And that IN NO WAY MEANS THAT WHAT HE HAS DONE IS EXCUSABLE. There are still CONSEQUENCES for his actions and his choices. However, God will redeem even the worst.

In January of this year (2023), I decided I needed to at least try. Our marriage was struggling, I was frustrated as a mom, as a church member. I remember showing up to a Tuesday night prayer, and telling God, “I’m f*cking mad at you. You let me down. You didn’t warn me. How could you leave me? Why didn’t you do something. I don’t f*cking trust you.” And I feel like this was what I needed to say to God to address the elephant in the room. I had spent years tiptoeing around the problem and in return, felt like I couldn’t even speak to God because what was there to talk about if we weren’t going to address the real problem? I spent the rest of the evening bawling in the back because it opened my heart up. The heart that was cold and guarded up, finally felt something.

From here, little things started happening. I started dreaming about this pastor almost weekly in April and that’s a whole story on its own. I also joined my pastors small group and it was one of the best decisions I could’ve made. We talked straight bible and broke down passages in the book of John, one of my favorite gospels. It took away all the lights, music, foo foo church crap and allowed me to just listen to the word which is what I so desperately needed. This didn’t “fix” everything for me though. I still had one foot out the door and that summer, I prayed something crazy. I told God that if he didn’t show up in a “I can’t deny this is you” type of way, I was done. I demanded a miracle, an audible voice, a burning bush type of sign. And a week or 2 later, God did just that.

I dont know if any of this makes sense, but I hope that you understand my heart. I believe no one talks about this, at least with raw honesty and vulnerability. I don’t mind telling you I dropped f bombs when talking to God because it’s what most of us want to do and we don’t, and then we’re stuck or we decide we no longer identify as Christians – when all we had to do was be honest. I also want you to know that there is hope and healing. I know it’s so cliche but ask God for a miracle and believe for it – the only way to find freedom is to deal with the messiness of heartbreak. All that to say that here I am again, moving forward, growing, serving, and reading my bible. Way differently this time than how we were taught when we were younger. I don’t want to be a religious leader who follows all the rules and misses one of the best part of this life on earth – humans. We can’t be so caught up in religion, that’s where the pain comes in. And humanity is messy and painful at times, but it’s also beautiful and full of life, and that’s part of being alive and being a human!

I don’t want to rush through this but I also don’t want to keep talking about the past. My focus in no longer to expose the past but instead to move forward and help others find Christ. It has been 2 years since I began writing this and my life is 100% different than it was. I am a different person. Thankful that I was able to be honest and confront my pain so I could move forward. The psalms have a lot of this honesty. The authors share how they feel, their biggest despairs, but this honest talk with God is what is necessary to move forward.

here is my advice if you feel lost, cynical, or broken:

1. Be honest. With yourself and with God, about your feelings, your thoughts, your despair.
2. Push through. Look for answers, keep showing up, push past your doubt and your heartbreak.
3. Get around people who will push you forward and answer your questions. If they can’t answer them, may they sit with you as you mourn.

Love yall!

“we’re back baby” *tiktok reference*

“I prayed to the Lord, and He answered me. He freed me from all my fears.” Psalms 34:4

An Open Journal While I Heal From Church Hurt

I have been silent for 6 years. And in that silence, stuck.

Unable to move forward, a hardened heart, and the weight of the secrets on my shoulders.

My silence had many layers, twisted together that eventually formed a boulder. I didn’t want to be labeled as messy, didn’t know how to process anymore, and it was not my story to tell. Writing has always shed a new perspective for me and allowed me to feel all the feels as the words left my fingertips, but as I have avoided writing for 4-6 years, I have also avoided processing, my failed attempt at not feeling.

There are moments in life that come in like an earthquake, unexpected & lasting from a few seconds to a few minutes, that shake us to our core. Have you ever had an earthquake moment that changes the entire trajectory of your life? 2017 was the series of these moments that violently shook and disrupted the foundation I proudly stood on, causing cracks deeper than I could have ever imagined. It was short lived but had lasting effects. I escaped the toxic grasp of a pastor in October of 2017, but got lost in the rubble, buried alive under the collapse of life as I knew it, slowly losing my pulse with each year that passed. Six years later, I am finally living in the freedom and healing I needed to start talking.

Bear with me as I attempt to tell you this story. These events from 6 years ago were shoved deep down inside, left in the dark, and forgotten. Over time, the wounds have calloused and my heart has grown numb, unable to fully pump life into my spirit. In that season, my voice was stripped from me and I felt like I was unable to speak. I lost my identity and my sense of purpose. And although I’m still the middle of the storm trying to regain my confidence, I am hopeful. In 2014, I planted a church with some of my closest friends. We all attended the same youth group and decided this was a great journey to take on together. From the very beginning, it was chaotic. We had all been taught a manipulative way of ministry and toxic style of leadership over the course of 10+ years that was starting to affect our relationships, friendships, and the church itself.

Month after month, year after year – something was always blowing up – failed relationships, estranged friendships, even closed doors that prolonged our full launch as a church, and most importantly: the church wasn’t growing. 20-40 people each Sunday with most being on the leadership team. It was a revolving door, gaining 2 and losing 2 more the following week. As leaders, our lives were not our own. The pastor was heavily involved in our relationships and tried to control curfews, dates, and what we did in our free time. He belittled us and groomed us from an early age into believing he was the ultimate authority, even above our own parents. When our friends would choose to leave this church, they were exiled from our lives for good – as we were forbidden from speaking to them because it was disloyal to the church and to him, a cult like culture. We were constantly told to “shut up, sit down” and blindly follow, with blind loyalty. I listened because I had given him the role of a father, with a tangled mess of a best friend and a pastor. I shared my deepest pains with him and heard some of his in return. He was available and present in my adolescence, always consistent. As the years passed and I became an adult, I started feeling uncomfortable with the loyalty he was requiring from me. I was told I couldn’t date my now husband because he had left the church. I was asked to choose between him or the church, and in the first of many attempts to manipulate me into staying, I was promised an advancement within the ministry if I stayed.

After a couple of months, I decided that I desperately needed out. I was in my early 20s and the pastor continued to treat me like the 15 year old girl he had original met, controlling every move. I shared my decision to leave in hopes of walking away in peace and was shut down and told I was childish, receiving condescending remarks that I would never reach my full potential elsewhere – basically that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. In his own words, he was the closest thing to Jesus I had on this earth. I had seen how he treated other individuals (pastors and friends) who left and I tried my best to avoid that happening to me. In this season, I was what he would call a “hot mess”, being in one of the most broken states of my life – having lost a relationship I thought was end game for me & walking away from a ministry I had known for 8 years. I was drinking every weekend, almost blacking out, ending up in poor situations, and having to call my family members to come pick me up in the middle of the night. I’m not condemning this lifestyle or judging anyone else for it, but it was only a coverup for the pain I didn’t want to face. And even in this state, the pastor attempted once again to make me stay by promising to ordain me as a pastor, something he knew I desired.

Shortly after gaining the courage to leave, my friends began trusting me with their experiences with him and all hell broke loose. I was not prepared to learn of the abuse that had occurred right in front of my eyes. Because of my close relationship with this pastor, I began putting all the pieces together. It was like an unfinished puzzle with half told truths. With each new piece of information I learned, I felt like I was buried deeper and deeper in despair. I filled in the missing gaps and timelines of each event. This pastor, the same man I had respected, trusted, and looked to for guidance on my walk with God, had sexually abused young men, and all the stories were the same – at sleepovers while the young men were unconscious. There was never any real consequences or repentance, and even though I spoke up and shared it with the leadership at the church, I hit many dead ends – mostly because he was doing “damage control” (telling his version first, twisting the truth, tugging at heart strings, and disqualifying any information I shared, including bashing my character). My purpose in finally sharing this story is not to focus too much on the “he said/she said” stories, but to share my journey of anger, unforgiveness, and now healing during this traumatic experience.

I had never felt so silenced, so alone, and so anxious. I was filled with anxiety just to go out in public, with fear of running into someone from this church. I lost my entire community and “family” because one man said I was lying and tainted my character. No one asked me to meet so I could share my accusations face to face. The calls simply stopped and the unfollows on social media began. People that I had cried with, prayed for/with, shared my struggles with, listened to theirs – simply stopped answering and disappeared. I was forced to find new friends, a new community to join and it took awhile to find a church and a leadership I could wholeheartedly trust. Thank God for our pastors at Union Houston who have been nothing but understanding, patient, and willing to walk with me as I sorted through this mess.

In this process, I eventually learned to forgive and “let go”. As simple as that sounds, it is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I had to accept that this man was also a child of God, and just how I receive grace from God, he would too. And I don’t say this because I agree with this concept. My humanness does not. I decided that forgiveness was for ME. I was tired of living my life full of bitterness and anger. It affected my marriage, my parenting, and yes, how I acknowledged God. I couldn’t fathom that He would allow this and not warn me or not protect my friends from being abused. I accepted that there was nothing I could do unless I wanted to be accused of being messy. Although I let it go and day by day stopped talking about this situation, my distance from God widened. I went through the motions, showing up to church, serving for a few years, joining small groups, and even listening to worship music – but none of it fixed or changed the hole and emptiness I fell inside. I felt helpless and stuck.

My entire adulthood (plus adolescence from the age of 11) had been marked by a friendship with this God. I knew how to pray, I knew how to lift my hands high, I knew how to run church services with my eyes closed, but nothing prepared me for the anger and distrust that bubbled up inside of me towards God.

Stay tuned for part two!

with love,
Leslie

Bloom with Grace

WELL, if you know anything about me, it’s that when I don’t write, I’m avoiding a process.

I thought that maybe if I pretended I was over it, didn’t care, then it wouldn’t hurt.

And man am I wrong again.

But then it’s beautiful because I get to pour out these random words, make them into sentences, and bring freedom to myself and to someone else.

It’s only February.

And my word for this year, restoration, has felt more like TURMOIL!

But when I take a step back outside of my emotions, I realize just how much restoration has been happening. I promise I’ll write an update next week on the things that have been in the process of restoration but for now, lets get real and dirty.

I sit here typing as tears form in the corners of my eyes, and I can’t even fully tell you why. Partly because I don’t even know……. and partly because maybe I do, but for the sake of the drama-less community of DYL and the Holy Spirit always being like girl calm down, I generalize.

I am angry. I feel lost. I feel free. I feel stuck. I feel opportunity rising. I feel depression around the corner. I could punch a hole in a wall. I could crawl into my bed and not come out until Sunday night. I could be the life of the party and talk your head off.

I don’t share this for you to be concerned about me, or for you to ~~pity~~ me.

I am stronger than I know, and I always figure it out.

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But what dilemma to feel so many different things all at once!

I left a place I called home and people I called family in October (which I’ve mentioned in previous blogs) and I never would’ve imagined that my entire being would be shaken by this. Silly I know. But it did.

My routine of life as I had known it abruptly changed. I had to make an attempt at new friends. I had to find a new home to attend on Sundays, at a new time, with strange faces. I had to really decide what LESLIE believed in. And I had to be vulnerable.

Which I have been, in building friendships, in trusting where the Lord was leading me.

But I am still hurting. The carpet was snatched from under my feet, and I fell hard and when I looked up, it was me who had done the pulling, without warning.

Like girl, can I get a schedule, an explanation, a 10 page research essay next time before these life-altering decisions happen?!? LOL

I can 100% stand by my decision to leave, but I wish I would’ve prepared myself for the heartache that I was about to walk into.

It’s heartache for many reasons but mostly because I forced myself out of my comfort zone and things I wasn’t expecting to change, changed.

I was complaining to myself today about the weather. It’s been raining and chilly again, when just last week, the sun was shining (80 degrees bright) and the wind was just right. I woke up two nights ago because there were loud thunderstorms at 3:00AM and the showers have been making an appearance on and off for 48 hours now.

It’s that rain that sprinkles and doesn’t fully come down, the one where you can’t turn on your wipers, but you also can’t turn them off. The one that stops when you grab your umbrella but starts as soon as you start a conversation with the friendly stranger in the parking lot. It’s a rain you cannot predict… or trust.

And you know what that reminds me off? My emotions right now.

I cannot trust what they are feeling, because tomorrow, I might be laughing and loving my freedom, while last night I was sad and overwhelmed with this process.

But when you embrace the rain, let it fall on your windshield a few seconds longer before turning on the wipers, when you don’t get angry that your blowdried hair is going to frizz but instead you allow the waves and the curls to do their thing, when you don’t get mad that you cannot wear your suede boots but instead you pull out your shoes that have a little character and a little history to them, the rain suddenly doesn’t suck as much anymore right? Somehow NOW you can trust it. And what’s even better is that in May, the flowers will bloom. The one’s that died in our cold winter were replaced by new seeds, and these random days of rains are bringing that life, allowing the seeds to develop, to grow roots, to be planted, and then to be enjoyed in the summer on the hottest and brightest of Texas days.

See, I’m going to choose to embrace my emotions, to embrace the pain that I feel, the anxiety I feel when I walk into a new group of people to introduce myself, the awkwardness I feel when I share my heart with strangers only to find we do have things in common. Embracing though closely related is not trusting. I am not placing my hope in the wild emotions, but rather in the seed that has been planted; which is the Word of God in my life.

The Lord has promised many things to me and my heart, both through His Word, but also through His presence. And I know that these showers of emotions and processes are bringing life to those seeds I am planting and have previously planted. And as I continue to be faithful and obedient, the flowers will bloom. I will bloom. My heart will bloom.

And you will too.

If it’s a hard season for you, if you are not where you thought you would be, if you are in the middle of a thunderstorm, if you are in the best season of your life, know that you are PLANTING seeds that will turn into beautiful flowers, or trees, if that’s more of your liking 🙂 The Lord has ALSO promised you many things.

I can’t tell you enough that the Lord is faithful. And if you don’t believe in that, the simple law of reaping and sowing is seen in every situation. You are sowing into your future, into your next season…. and you WILL reap the benefits of it. Both you and I will.

Embracing and Blooming and Dancing in His Love,

Leslie Tatiana ❤

The Test of the Thought Pt. 1

Let’s take it back to last week.

Monday was terrible. I went to work and by 4:30 I was so stressed- I cried, hid in the bathroom and walked around aimlessly until 5:30 CLOCK OUT TIME!!!

Tuesday…. By 10:00 AM I was ready to walk out because I couldn’t handle the stress and the environment anymore. I’ve recently become someone who doesn’t tolerate anything that does not bless me or anything that takes my peace away. I spent way too many years submitting to people, environments, and habits that I couldn’t stand and in the end, was in deeper mess than if i would’ve had enough self-worth to walk away. And that’s what I did Tuesday. I went to lunch around 12 and never came back to work.I spent the day walking into salons and leaving my resume and now I have a new job, in the field that I love- beauty industry!

Then later that week, my name was involved in a “he said she said story” and words were placed in my mouth that I never said. It took away my peace. I’ve worked so hard these last few months to get rid of everything that did not bless my life and the enemy took advantage of it. But I chose to stay silent and allow God himself to fight for me. I talked to God over and over, complained and cried because I am not one to stay quiet and allow disrespect, I am a fighter (lol)- and the only thing I heard back from the Lord was Exodus 14:14 “the Lord will fight for you: you need only be still.” And I had no defense back to this, I simply submitted and did as told.

This night I also went to a spanish church service on the other side of town and one thing that stood out to me was my thought process during this event. I was in the midst of it, singing spanish worship songs, listening to a pastor preach in spanish, surrounded by spanish speaking people and I suddenly missed my life a few years back- because there was no pressure to be better, to step out in faith and serve Him leaving everything behind. I thought I had my life together, planned from school to marriage to ministry and friendships. And this is when I knew something was wrong. Though the message and the pastor himself blessed me and confirmed something I had been praying earlier, the enemy was up to something because I wanted to go back to my old life, a time in which I had every detail of my life planned and I was the one in control, playing God.

Besides me, I knew a couple of people in our leadership were dealing with attacks as well. With finances, relationships, insecurities, thoughts, exhaustion, all sorts of things. I know that we don’t get spiritual enough these days to say”attacks” (which we should) but i will get spiritual today and just call the enemy out.

It’s not a coincidence that all of this happened in one week, especially the things in my life considering i’m on a “no drama” type of attitude and I am nipping things as soon as they happen.

But then came Sunday.

& setting up that morning felt different. And though we couldn’t grasp what God had in store a few hours later, we could smell Him cooking while we cleaned Numbers and got ready.

Service was set to start at 6:00 PM…. By 5:50, the front doors of the club were packed. It was awkwardly packed, people kept staring at me so I could open the doors and let them in. The atmosphere was alive and people we’re excited, though there was no room to stand – ready to worship God and celebrate Revive.

From the moment the doors opened, all 14 rows were packed. I put out an extra row “just in case” and went to sit at the front. 1 minute later, Pastor Eddie came over to me and told me there was no room to sit and all chairs needed to be put out. We ended up being so packed out with 140 chairs that we had to ask leaders and Dream Team Members to give up seats and sit on the side bleachers! How GOOD is GOD?!

The worship team was on fire- nothing more to say here. I have been led by each one into worship but last night was different. Each person was on another level and another realm. Alive and electric- dancing, singing, shouting, hands lifted and eyes on the King.

Jabin Chavez at Revive!? Seriously?!!!! How in the world did we manage that? God did it. And I loved what one of my pastors said “it is God’s way of saying I got y’all.” He killed the word and messed us up, stirred up a hunger and a revival that WE are the church- when God sees a city, He sends His church. He saw Montrose & He sent Revive.

So going back to the beginning, we all went through hell this past week and though we didn’t broadcast it, it was a very difficult week. & there was a moment in Jabin’s message that brought everything together. He explained how the devil does not know the plans God has for us but he knows the potential, and because of that potential, he attacks. Jabin does not know what our church has been through in its short year of life and neither do some of you, but he very specifically pointed out that through the attacks, through the haters, through the mess, through the Red Sea- God promised to be with us.

Last night, I saw dead spirits and souls coming back to life. I saw new faces in awe of a REAL God. I saw parents encouraged and proud, finally understanding why their child is ALL about Revive. I saw youth catch a vision, a hope for their future. And what impacted me the most, I saw my pastors and the team of leaders get a glimpse of the potential we have together and a picture of what God can do in Montrose. It gave life, hope, strength.

The tears have been worth it Revive. Crossing over and leaving a familiar land to an unknown and unwelcoming one. Losing people, losing loves, friends, family. Having to drive 40+ minutes to set up for 2 hours, worship, and tear down for 1 hour. Being criticized, forgotten, and undervalued.

ALL of this was worth it last night- because so many souls came alive, friendships and families were strengthened. We were injected with the vision to run for another year, to build His kingdom and love the broken.

Thank you to each one of you who celebrated with us. We love you dearly, we are honored, and we cannot wait for the next 100 years!

Happy Birthday Revive!

Here’s to building a legacy with Kingdom Carriers, all for His glory!