I write this not from unbelief—but from too much belief.
Too much hope.
Too many betrayals by those who claim to know Jesus—yet live as if He never wept, never touched the leper, never cried over Jerusalem.
→ I am born-again.
→ I believe the Bible.
→ I believe Jesus is Yahweh in the flesh, the Arm of God revealed.
"Who has believed our message? And to whom has the Arm of the Lord been revealed?"
Hebrew: זרוע יהוה (zeroa YHWH) → His Arm
(Isaiah 53:1 / John 12:38 AMP)
I love Him with all my brokenness. But here in Finland, I am not rejected by the world—but by the churches.
→ They speak in tongues—without interpretation
→ Always the same chant, Yoruban: korede-le → "bring honor, bring blessing"
→ No humility, just glow and forced performance
They LARP holiness.
Not like I used to LARP Skaven stormvermin for fun—but a dangerous roleplay of sainthood.
They dress up in tongues and “moves of God” but cannot sit next to someone with PTSD, ADHD, BPD, or dissociation like me.
→ I’ve dissociated in churches after being called slurs
→ People avoided me like trauma was sin
→ Like I was the unclean thing
But Jesus didn’t avoid the broken. He touched them.
"A bruised reed He will not break, and a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish."
Hebrew: קָנֶה רָצוּץ לֹא יִשְׁבֹּר
(Isaiah 42:3 / AMP)
They shunned me for crying.
For asking for love instead of image.
For defending Jewish people while they cursed Israel and claimed to replace her.
→ They want a god of their own pride
→ A god who demands nothing but blesses everything—even bullying
→ A god who hates Israel and mocks the broken
Even after October 7th, my friends left.
The last ones vanished when I asked them to stop mocking my trauma.
→ Not for sin. But for begging for kindness.
They say I don’t have the Holy Spirit because I cry.
Because I break.
Because I still love people after they leave.
But the Bible says otherwise.
"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
Hebrew: קרוב יהוה לנשברי לב ואת־דכאי־רוח יושיע
(Psalm 34:18)
Messiah would sit with me. He did sit with people like me.
Not once did He run from the broken.
I no longer go to church buildings—not because I left God, but because I can’t find Him there.
I search. I hope. I cry.
But all I find are proud Finnish LARPers.
→ They think holiness = not drinking, not being gay
→ But they curse Russians like me
→ They mock disabilities
→ They treat “holy” as a performance
Hebrew “qadosh” = קָדוֹשׁ = set apart, belonging to God
Not fake perfection. But devoted to His heart.
They read:
"Rakasta lähimmäistäsi niin kuin itseäsi"
(love your neighbor as yourself)
→ and twist it into:
“Love your closest friends and family if they serve your image.”
They forget that “neighbor” meant the one you despise.
Greek: πλησίον (plēsion) = neighbor = anyone near you, even enemy
(Luke 10:29–37)
Even the LARP group I used to play with—Skaven, the vermin, the murderers—felt more honest.
Why? Because the Skaven knew they were evil. They didn’t pretend.
But Finnish LARP-Christians wear glowing masks and spew slurs behind backs.
→ They say trauma means I haven’t given pain to Jesus
→ But maybe the truth is → they never gave their pride to Him
They ask if I have forgiven.
Me.
The one spit on. Ignored. Mocked.
→ Yet they still curse Russians for history I didn’t live
→ Still hold sacred their hate while preaching love
"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you."
Greek: ἀγαπᾶτε τοὺς ἐχθροὺς ὑμῶν
(Matthew 5:44)
They post it on Facebook but don’t live it in pews.
They don’t greet me. Won’t sit next to me. Won’t hug me.
But I’m the one they say has bitterness?
No.
I’m the one who still shows up. Still prays. Still hopes.
They’re the ones who ghost anyone that wounds their image.
→ Maybe God hasn’t sent me safe people here
→ Because maybe there are none yet
But I still believe this:
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."
(Psalm 147:3)
"I will never [under any circumstances] desert you, nor give you up nor leave you without support."
(Hebrews 13:5 AMP)
You who feel like me:
→ You are not rejected by Yahweh
→ You are the reason Jesus came
→ You are not forgotten
I haven’t left the Church.
But the Church left me.
To those who still mock the broken—REPENT.
To those who push away the wounded—REPENT.
To those who curse Israel—REPENT.
If even one person lives like Jesus after reading this, my loneliness will not be wasted.
Signed,
A broken but beloved disciple of the true Messiah.
I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
