When Truth Leads, Grace Follows (Part 3 of 3 in the series, Biblical Unity vs. Groupthink)

Lena didn’t see the storm coming—not all at once. In many ways, it had been building quietly. There were moments of hope, times when things seemed to settle, when she thought a peaceful transition might still be possible. But then, the unthinkable happened: the letter of transfer they had requested was refused, and her husband was cast out instead (3 John 9-10). What had once seemed like a clear path forward disappeared beneath a wave of confusion and grief. And yet, through every shift, every wound, every strained relationship, one thread held her steady: Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself [do not be angry] because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass" (Psalm 37:7). 

She had clung to that verse more times than she could count, held it like a lifeline. In the waiting, she chose not to chase explanations but to anchor herself in the Lord’s way. It wasn’t easy. But she remembered the psalm’s directive: “Rest in the Lord ... wait ... for Him.” And she sought to do just that.

What unfolded in the months that followed left a lasting imprint on Lena’s heart. As the ground shifted beneath her, she came to see that Christ was not only her foundation—He was her steady, faithful companion. In the quiet ache that followed—the cold silence, the weight of a false narrative, the burden left behind by oppressive leadership—Lena rested in a deeper truth: her identity wasn’t shaped by the judgments of others. It was rooted in the love of the Lamb of God, the One in whom the Father delights. She belonged to Him. He had already borne her shame, silenced her accusers, and secured her place in the family of God. Even when others misunderstood her, the Lord never did. He was not distant. He was near. And gently, faithfully, He was leading her forward.

Still, healing didn't erase memory. The ache had roots--and looking back helped her see just how faithful the Lord had been. Lena and her husband had come with hearts ready to serve—not expecting applause, but simply hoping to walk alongside others in faith and to share in the work of the gospel. But over time, the tone began to shift. And as they asked honest questions—not combatively, but carefully—they weren’t received as fellow seekers of truth. Instead, their desire for clarity was viewed as resistance. 

There were days Lena felt the pull toward bitterness. The ache of being misunderstood cut deep. But Psalm 37 kept calling her back: “Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace” (v. 37). She wasn’t called to fix everything or force others to see. She was called to mark—to notice, to follow—the path of the upright.

She found herself remembering her growing-up years, how her father—also a pastor—had encouraged her to read missionary biographies. His guidance in truth, shaped by a deep reverence for God, had formed her view of ministry. That’s why what she later experienced under an oppressive leader felt so foreign—it caught her off guard. But recalling the lives of others who had followed the Lamb closely—those who modeled His acceptance, hospitality, and biblically grounded love—helped her breathe again.

The silence that followed was soul-deep. Though they had been misunderstood, Christ had not misunderstood them. He had walked with them through every step of the upheaval. Lena found comfort in the story of Jonathan and Sarah Edwards—how, even after Jonathan was expelled from his own church, God continued to use them to minister to the American Indians. Their quiet obedience in the face of rejection reminded her that peace comes not from public approval but from walking in step with God’s purposes.

She didn’t have to carry every burden. She didn’t need every answer. God knew. And His peace would come through trusting. Peace didn’t come from being heard—it came from walking uprightly, hand in hand with Christ.

And now, Lena could see that God had also answered a prayer she had whispered many times during the darkest months: Deliver us from evil. What they had walked through was not merely miscommunication or insecurity—it was oppressive leadership, the kind that quietly demanded conformity, then veiled its demands in spiritual language. Over time, control gave way to concealment. Truth was obscured. Questions weren’t just discouraged—they were met with deflection, blame, and, at times, outright deceit.

In time, Lena no longer doubted what she had once struggled to name. The Lord had exposed it clearly. And with that clarity came freedom—a freedom to rest, to heal, and to follow the One who had always been leading her into peace.

In His mercy, He brought them to a new place. The church they joined wasn’t large or impressive by worldly standards—but it was full of grace. The Word of God was honored. Consciences were respected. Questions weren’t met with suspicion but with patience, humility, and Scripture. And perhaps most healing of all, Lena noticed a deep respect for each person’s individual walk with the Lord—grounded in His Word. In conversations and prayer times, she heard others speak freely about how God was leading them through His Word. Growth was evident on many levels. Honesty was apparent. This felt like home—like the kind of Christianity she had witnessed each day in her mother, quietly fellowshipping with the Lord, her Bible spread before her. Here, too, truth was sought, and the women spoke of it freely. The people around her seemed genuinely intent on walking in step with the Lord.

She often returned to the closing promise of Psalm 37: “But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them… because they trust in him.” (vv. 39–40). 

God had answered her prayer for deliverance. His help hadn’t come with fanfare, but it had come with clarity—and that clarity brought peace. Even when unity had been redefined and truth clouded, Christ had remained faithful. His Word had not failed her. The strength she needed had come not from sheer endurance, but from believing God—hoping in His promises when everything else seemed uncertain. And now, surrounded by believers who walked in grace and truth, Lena began to heal. It wasn’t a perfect place. But it was a place where grace was real, and trust could take root. And after all she had walked through, that felt like a gift.

Lena knew the journey wasn’t over. What had once nearly silenced her spirit had now become a quiet testimony of God's faithfulness. Christ, the Lamb of God—who bore her shame and secured her peace—had led her into a wide place. The words that once weighed heavy no longer held power. Though she and her husband still remained quietly shunned by some—persuaded by the words of an oppressive leader—they had learned to lean wholly on the Lord. 

In time, they came to see that God-honoring, biblical unity isn’t always found in outward agreement—but it is always found in walking faithfully with Christ. Her rest was in Him. Not in being understood, but in being known by Him. Not in public vindication, but in quiet, personal communion. The grace-filled church He led them to became a balm. And she walked forward with joy—not because the path had been easy, but because she had seen the faithfulness of God in the valley. The victory was already His, and peace came not from the resolution they had sought (but had been rejected), but from trusting the One who walked with her.

Healing had opened the door. And now, Lena longed to walk forward in grace—day by day, not only receiving it, but extending it. She wanted her words to be shaped by the truth of God’s Word and by a heart that had learned, more deeply than ever, what it meant to rest in Him.

“And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us … full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)