The restaurant was beautiful.
From the outside, it sparkled with ambiance. Inside, the lights were dimmed just right; the music was warm and inviting, and the table was set perfectly. The food came out plated like art, delicious, well-timed, seemingly flawless.
But then, one day, someone invited you into the kitchen.
You expected excellence… but you found chaos.
Mess.
Yelling.
Frustration.
Cut corners.
Dirty aprons.
And worse, the people who didn’t seem to care about the meal at all, only the image of the restaurant itself.
Suddenly, the magic was gone.
That’s what loving Jesus can feel like when the church has failed you.
Loving Jesus. But Reeling from Church Hurt.
Some of us stepped into ministry or joined a church expecting warmth, discipleship, depth, and a shared hunger for God. And at first, it felt like that.
But somewhere along the way, we saw too much.
We saw power misused.
Leadership corrupted.
Abuse swept under rugs.
Gossip disguised as “concern.”
Volunteers are burned out, brushed aside, and left behind.
And pastors preach grace while treating people like disposable parts of a machine.
Suddenly, the food didn’t taste the same.
You couldn’t worship without hearing the behind-the-scenes noise.
You wanted to love the Church—but it kept breaking your heart.
It’s Okay to Feel Let Down
Sometimes in ministry, or just showing up at church week after week, you expect one thing and end up seeing something completely different. What you hoped would be holy felt hollow. What looked beautiful on the surface hid deep brokenness underneath.
But feeling let down by what you’ve seen doesn’t mean you’ve lost your faith.
It means your eyes are open to the fact that something isn’t right. And that’s okay.
You’re not broken for feeling this way.
You’re not rebellious.
You’re not weak.
You’re paying attention.
Jesus never asked you to pretend everything was perfect.
He didn’t call you to protect an image. He called you to follow Him.
Jesus Isn’t the Kitchen
The biggest lie the church hurt tells us is this:
“If the Church failed you, Jesus must’ve too.”
But Jesus doesn’t gaslight people.
He doesn’t manipulate.
He doesn’t twist Scripture to protect egos.
He doesn’t minimize your pain or ask you to perform through it.
He never hides behind a platform while the vulnerable suffer.
The Church was His idea—but people have never been perfect vessels for a perfect God. That’s why He came Himself.
Jesus isn’t the mess in the kitchen.
He’s the One washing feet when no one else will.
He’s the One flipping tables when leaders abuse power.
He’s the One sitting with the wounded in the hallway when the sanctuary feels too fake to walk back into.
So, What Now?
If you’re reading this and wrestling with all of it, the hurt, the disappointment, the tension of loving Jesus while feeling wounded by His people, I want to offer one simple, honest step:
Don’t give up on community, just rebuild it wisely.
You may need to take a deep breath and step back for a moment.
You may need to stop serving for a season.
You may need to find Jesus outside the noise for a while.
But don’t stay isolated.
Find a small, trusted circle of people who see you.
Look for a church, not perfect, but humble and honest, where grace is practiced, not just preached.
Start small. Sit in the back. Say yes to one coffee. Join one study. Rebuild slowly, but don’t close your heart off completely.
Because community still matters.
And even with all its flaws, the Church is still God’s idea.
Not because it’s perfect. But because when it’s healthy, it reflects His heart.
You can be cautious and still be connected.
You can heal and still hold on to hope.
You can love Jesus and learn to love His people again, too.