Sarah Nyhan

A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish.

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For years I had been kicking around the idea of how it would be interesting to have a community where older single women took care of orphans and other abandoned children in exchange for living expenses. I was trying to simultaneously solve the problem of children lost in the system and older women not being able to keep up with inflation.

So when Manna House came along, it wasn’t exactly what I had been thinking of doing. But probably the biggest factor in me choosing to be there was that it seemed close to what I had been trying to plan. Still a house, still helping women. I was scared to say no to the opportunity if it was from the Lord.

But immediately it became clear that I had not insisted on more communication before I signed up to be there. Suffice to say that there were a lot of assumptions and different visions. Not for the big goals, but in regard to execution. And I was the person there most of the days, so I was greatly impacted by all the differences. It wasn’t necessarily oppressive, but I realized my mistake fairly quickly. I should have insisted on a lot more communication and clarification before I ever committed to this enterprise.

However I had made a promise to God that I would stay there until I was married. So I was determined to make the best of it. Back then I thought I could fix anything by me being better. More obedient, more religious, more loving, more work, etc. So in short, I didn’t stick up for myself. I tried to be super-submissive and just pray constantly in hopes that God would change hearts and minds.

Well, one day I had prearranged to meet Linda Mushrush for an hour or so. And I had requested approval in advance for this “time off”. It was granted to me. But on the day of, I was called to a meeting a little over an hour before I was to meet her. So before the meeting started, I made sure to remind them that they had approved me leaving the house to go meet with Linda. All of the women who lived at Manna House were away at jobs or appointments that day, so there shouldn’t have been a problem.

Well the meeting starts and the focus is that there is a dislike for my “tone” in text messages.

So I wasn’t saved by not calling people to task. In the end, it backfired and ultimately led to this. Despite all the other areas that I thought people could have been stepping up more, my silence had encouraged this. Helped emboldened them to feel free to focus on my text messages.

I was trying to keep myself nonstop busy during the time I was supposed to be “clocked in” while I was on duty at Manna House. This was a big deal to me. First that a house was freely given to the church, second that church members were giving their money to support us and the mission, and third that I didn’t want to waste the time of the women who signed up to live there. If they “failed”, I didn’t want it to be on account of me. As much as I could prevent it.

So I took Manna House seriously. Business every day. Just as I was used to doing in the corporate world. And that’s what the surface-level of the complaint about the tone in my text messages basically came down to. Quite simply it was a difference in personalities and preferences. Even though nothing had changed from when they first knew and chose me.

Now, in my opinion, I felt like I was basically being asked to kiss ass. Just to make people feel better. Who were only calling me to task for this probably in an attempt to dodge and deflect from their own guilty consciences. For giving me the bulk of the work and not doing more.

But of course I didn’t say that. Instead again I valiantly tried to give them as much grace as I could without lying just to pacify them. They wanted me to admit that I was wrong. I knew my heart and I saw the words on the screen. I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. And I might never stand up for myself, but I couldn’t step down from standing up for the truth.

An hour passed. I repeatedly expressed that although we disagreed, I would do what they asked me to do if they wanted me to do something differently. But that wasn’t enough. They needed me to basically admit that I was wrong and they were right before they would be satisfied. That’s how it seemed to me.

I reminded them that the time was approaching for me to leave in order to meet Linda. I was then told that men from the church needed to be called over immediately in order to basically deal with me. That I shouldn’t go to Linda’s. That instead, I needed to stay there at Manna House to continue the meeting until they were essentially satisfied with my obedience and submission to them. Although it of course wasn’t said that way.

Well, the idea of the whole text message debacle was that I was being seen as rude. So I responded by using their logic. Saying that continuing the meeting could wait until I returned from Linda’s because me cancelling at literally the last minute with Linda would definitely be rude and disrespectful to her.

That wasn’t taken well. I was told that if I insisted on going to see Linda then I needed to pack my things and permanently leave the house right then!

To be a “ministry” for women in crisis and then kick your main worker out on the street. Completely homeless. How is that not rude and disrespectful? The audacity. Now I knew it was even more important for me to fight for the truth. I couldn’t in good conscience concede just for the sake of keeping the peace. This wasn’t right.

So I started packing up my things right then. And stuck everything I could fit into my vehicle. Leaving my furniture and other personal furnishings I brought in behind. Letting Linda know why I would be late. Tears streaming down my face.

The next few hours are a blur. I made it to Linda’s and of course we talked about what occurred. And that’s the only person I told until much much time later, well after the situation had passed. That’s why none of ya’ll initially knew. At least from me. Because I had bought the party line from the pulpit: don’t talk about people; let God handle it. And I certainly tried to. Until I realized that was a convenient declaration that could sometimes be used to usher other lambs to slaughter. And maybe I couldn’t yet stand for myself, but again I put my neck on the line for them.

But I degress; back to the story at hand. The next thing I know, I later “woke up” to finding myself sitting in my car somewhere. Wondering what to do. Since I hadn’t been making any money while I was working at Manna House, I had no resources, nowhere to stay, and no idea what to do.

As I am trying to figure out the next step, Julie calls me. She had been at work when everything happened. I don’t know what she was told, but she understood that I wasn’t there anymore. And this was still early on in our time at Manna House, so although her house was on the market, it hadn’t yet sold. She offered for me to stay there as even though the entire house had been cleared out, because she had left just her bed there for her son to use when he soon returned from out of town. She told me I could stay there for a few days until he arrived. That was good enough for me so I headed over.

I was primarily in shock. I knew what they had done to me was wrong. No matter how they tried to cut it. I would later find out it was even illegal. You can’t just kick people out like that. It was none of the church leadership but rather actually one of the women being served at Manna House who later told me this. But at the time I didn’t know my rights and so I left when I was given the ultimatum to do so.

But the next morning it occurred to me that God had answered my prayers. Not at all in the way I anticipated. I thought He would release me from Manna House through marriage. But no, He provided relief and deliverance almost immediately after I came around to desiring it. So I was going to be okay even though everything had happened so quickly and unexpectedly. I wasn’t worried about what to do next. God would provide for me. Suddenly I felt FREEDOM! I started to laugh and feel so light and unburdened that I literally started dancing around Julie’s empty house. God had delivered me without much of my help.

I saw what happened for what it was even then. And I didn’t carry much personal anger or resentment. I was still mad just at the principle of what had transpired. Because it was so wrong. To just kick me out on the street homeless while purporting to be operating in the name of God. I knew that was wrong in a standalone way by itself. But who was I to argue with God if He wanted to harden Pharaoh’s heart? That’s all I saw it as. Honestly not many personal hard feelings. Another reason why I didn’t initially say anything.

I just looked forward and proceeded with what I knew to do: applying for jobs and restarting my life. Relieved.

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A bigger meeting was called a few days after. I only went because I valued these relationships and I felt like if they wanted to work things out then I should give them that opportunity. Even though I still had not received an apology.

There we were in the preacher’s office. Him, his wife, Julie, Misty, Mark, and me. I could tell some were grieved about what had transpired and definitely wanted peace. But at one pivotal point, the person who had made the decision to kick me out was asked to apologize to me and it seemed like they would rather die. After some time, the weakest apology was eeked out, but the face didn’t betray that it was just words without heart. For the others, not for me.

And so when I was asked by the others if I wanted to come back to Manna House, I knew it was a bad idea. That the situation had by no means been sufficiently resolved. So I said no. My idea was to make room for another that was more welcome.

Where would I be today if that was the end of this story? How different would my life be.

I drove away from the church that day, initially happy. Feeling like I had made the right choice. But I didn’t get more than a few miles before guilt and condemnation slammed against me like a thousand-man army.

“Who do you think you are? How are you going to walk away from the mission just like that? You must not love Jesus. You must not care about those women. You’re so selfish. Jesus died on the cross for you and you won’t even put up with a little bit of what? You didn’t have thorns or a sword thrust into you. You’re ridiculous. You weak bitch. How is that love? Just to stick with the ones who love you back?”

Jeremiah 12 came to mind, “If you have run with the footmen, and they have wearied you, then how can you contend with horses? And if in the land of peace, in which you trusted, they wearied you, then how will you do in the floodplain of the Jordan?”

On and on and on. Like a gong. An insane heaviness dropped into me. In retrospect, probably asking me maybe to confirm my decision to finally start to stand up not only for the integrity of the ministry, but also myself. Instead, I accepted it all as a “sign” that my initial happiness must be proof of my pride and selfishness, right? The thoughts continued and these words from Ecclesiastes taunted me:

“Walk prudently when you go to the house of God; and draw near to hear rather than to give the sacrifice of fools, for they do not know that they do evil. Do not be rash with your mouth, and let not your heart utter anything hastily before God. For God is in heaven, and you on earth; therefore let your words be few. For a dream comes through much activity. And a fool’s voice is known by his many words. When you make a vow to God, do not delay to pay it; for He has no pleasure in fools. Pay what you have vowed — better not to vow than to vow and not pay. Do not let your mouth cause your flesh to sin, nor say before the messenger of God that it was an error. Why should God be angry at your excuse and destroy the work of your hands? For in the multitude of dreams and many words there is also vanity. But fear God.”

And that was it. The nail in the coffin. I instantly felt suicidal. I had promised God that I would be at Manna House specifically until I married. So I thought I had to go back. They had opened the door of opportunity for me. To turn around and walk away would be wrong. Or so I thought.

And not only did I go back, I went directly to the person who threw me out and I begged for their forgiveness. For a second chance.

I thought they were being gracious when their demeanor then completely changed. When the smile was back on their face and they offered their embrace. I thought I did the right thing. I thought the proof was that those in charge said they would now start to pay me for working at Manna House. $1,000 a month. I thought that meant I had passed the test.

It would take years before I would hear the heart of the Lord in Numbers 30:

“Or if a woman makes a vow to the Lord, and binds herself by some agreement while in her father’s house in her youth, and her father hears her vow and the agreement by which she has bound herself, and her father holds his peace, then all her vows shall stand, and every agreement with which she has bound herself shall stand. But if her father overrules her on the day that he hears, then none of her vows nor her agreements by which she has bound herself shall stand; and the Lord will release her, because her father overruled her.”