I saw the words on the screen and my heart ached in recognition.

It should not need saying, yet here we are.

I have seen this pattern far too many times, and I have experienced it personally over the course of my life. People leave churches not because they have lost their faith, but because they no longer feel at home. Something subtle shifts. Safety erodes. Belonging quietly slips away. Instead of being met with curiosity, care, or blessing, they are treated as though they have committed an offence.

Suddenly, they are no longer welcome to visit. Their presence becomes awkward. Their name is spoken with caution, if it is spoken at all. What once felt like family becomes a closed door.

This kind of ostracism wounds deeply. It teaches people that belonging was conditional all along, that love lasted only as long as agreement or proximity remained intact. For many, the deepest pain is not in leaving the building, but in realising they have been erased from the heart of a community they once trusted.

Jesus never modelled this.

He never withdrew permission to care. He never demanded distance as proof of righteousness. He never punished people for maintaining relationships. He walked freely between spaces, tables, and communities, confronting only one thing with consistency: hardened hearts disguised as spiritual authority.

Christ’s presence is not confined to one building, one leadership team, or one expression of worship. He walks with His people. He meets them in different rooms, different congregations, and different seasons. When we attempt to gatekeep Him, we reveal more about our insecurity than our faith.

Recently, I was deeply grieved to hear that a man was told off for visiting a church simply because he was related to someone who had left, someone leaders had taken issue with. No misconduct, no disruption, no wrongdoing, just association. Guilt by proximity. Punishment by connection.

That is not shepherding. That is fear dressed up as loyalty.

The Church was never meant to function like a closed circle, a guarded territory, or a loyalty test. We are not a brand protecting image, nor a gang enforcing silence and separation. We are the Body of Christ, and bodies do not amputate healthy limbs because of unresolved conflict.

Love does not blacklist people. Love does not control relationships. Love does not demand that others cut ties to prove allegiance. When churches begin policing who you are allowed to love, speak to, or visit, something sacred has quietly shifted.

Jesus never operated this way.

He welcomed the one others whispered about. He touched those deemed problematic. He refused to reduce people to labels, histories, or affiliations. He did not withhold compassion because of someone else’s offence.

What grieves me most is not the rule, but the message it sends.

You are only welcome if you are unconnected to pain.

You may belong only if your relationships are approved.

You are safe here, as long as you do not remind us of unresolved wounds.

That is not the Kingdom.

I am a person who carries a strong sense of justice. God formed that in me early. When injustice appears cloaked in spiritual language, something in my spirit aches. I have watched trauma silence truth. I have seen fear train good people to comply rather than discern. I have also seen Jesus restore dignity by gently calling people back to love, courage, and conscience.

Freedom in Christ includes the freedom to love people without permission slips. It includes the freedom to honour relationships even when others are uncomfortable. It includes the courage to say, quietly but firmly, “This is not right.”

Unity is not enforced by exclusion. Purity is not preserved by shaming. Order is not maintained by fear. The fruit of the Spirit does not require boundary guards to survive.

If your faith requires you to abandon compassion, something has gone wrong. If belonging demands that you sever loving ties, it is no longer belonging, it is control. The fruit of the Spirit will always look like love, never loyalty tests.

Peace does not humiliate visitors.

Peace does not interrogate motives.

Peace does not punish the innocent for another’s departure.

If someone leaves a church, the most Christlike response is humility, reflection, prayer and continued kindness. Love does not evaporate when people move on.

Relationship does not become betrayal when paths diverge.

The Church should be the safest place to walk into, not a place where association alone makes you suspect.

If our communities cannot hold love and disagreement at the same time, then we have replaced discipleship with control. The Gospel never needed loyalty tests. It only ever asked for love.

May we never confuse guarding reputation with guarding hearts. May we never trade compassion for compliance. May we remember that Jesus did not build a gang, He formed a family.

May we never confuse unity with uniformity. May we never sacrifice people on the altar of institutional comfort. May we always choose the harder, holier path of love.

💡 Reflection:

• Where have I seen loyalty quietly replace love, even in subtle ways 🤔

• Have I ever felt pressured to distance myself from someone to “belong” 🤔

• What would it look like to respond more like Jesus in moments of tension 🤔

• Where have I felt pressure to choose loyalty over love 🤔

• How do I discern when obedience to Christ calls for courage rather than compliance 🤔

• In what ways is God inviting me to love more freely and fear less 🤔

🎺 Affirmation:

I choose love over fear, truth over control, and Christ over culture. I belong to Jesus, not to systems built on exclusion. I am free to love boldly, wisely, and without permission.

🙌 Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You are the Good Shepherd who never manipulates, never coerces, and never withholds love. Heal the places where fear has distorted what should be sacred. Restore Your Church to the simplicity of loving You and loving people well. Give me courage to stand for what is right with humility and grace. Teach me to walk in truth without bitterness and in love without fear.

Lord Jesus, guard my heart from hardness and my faith from fear. Teach me to love without conditions, to welcome without suspicion, and to walk in truth with humility. Heal the places where Your Church has wounded instead of welcomed. Shape us again into a body marked by grace, courage, and compassion.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.