The Pain and Joy of Leaving My Home Church

The picture is the christening of my youngest son, performed by my dad in our home church.

This is one of the hardest posts I’ve ever had to write, but I think the time has come to share that my husband has decided to lead our family to a new church. Just typing that brings a lump to my throat—suddenly, it feels so much more real. I keep asking myself: Why is this so difficult for me? People change churches all the time. My husband has belonged to at least six in his lifetime, but I’ve only ever belonged to one—from the time I was two years old…ALMOST 50 YEARS!

My dad started our church in the basement of our home when I was two and my brother was four. It grew to a small sanctuary in D.C. when I was about five. By the time I was nine, it outgrew that space, so we spent a year worshiping at a school in Temple Hills, MD. Then, at ten, we moved to a beautiful 10-acre property in Temple Hills, where our church still stands today. I have vivid memories of every single place we’ve met, even when it was just our family and a few friends gathering in our basement. This church wasn’t just a place of worship—it was the center of my entire world. It was where my extended family, my closest friends, and my neighbors gathered together. It was where we acted in plays, where my brother’s best friend gave his life to Christ at a youth basketball camp. It’s where all my childhood friends were married and raised their children.

Our church was also the birthplace of Camp Kush, a program that taught children about Ancient African and Black history every summer for 20 years. It instilled in us not just our history, but our identity in Christ—teaching us that we were wonderfully made and deeply loved by God. I even learned about healthy eating there because we believed our bodies were God’s temples. I decided to become a teacher because of my experience as a Sunday school assistant. Later, when our church launched a Classical Christian school, I left my job in public education to work there, eventually writing my dissertation on the school. That experience ignited a passion in me to bring classical education to everyone. I was baptized there, celebrated holidays there, and witnessed so many milestones in my family’s life there. Both of my sons were christened there. My brother was installed as a pastor there, and he met his wife there.

When I met Damon on eHarmony in 2007, my family, friends, and church community wondered if he would eventually take me to his church—McLean Bible Church. But Damon did something deeply humble and loving. He never once asked me to visit his church, even though he loved it. Instead, he felt led to visit mine. After a few visits, he told me that if we got married, he would join my church. He prayed about it, spoke to his spiritual mentor, and felt led to join. The biblical model is for the woman to join the husband’s church, so he can fulfill his spiritual leadership role. However, he was impressed with solid Bible teaching and dynamic, spiritually insightful preaching of my father. He was committed to being a servant leader, and even though he was stepping into my father’s church as a husband and not just a visitor, he never looked back. He served wholeheartedly.

But as the years went on, Damon began to feel a pull toward something more—a calling to grow our ministry independently outside of my family’s shadow. He felt a call to return to the traditional model of the husband leading his family at a church of the husband’s choosing. He wrestled with those feelings privately, even writing a letter to his spiritual mentor. But despite the tension, he didn’t feel led to leave. Maybe he wrestled with how this move would hurt me, because my church has always been my whole world. In the summer of 2023, he decided to visit other churches in the area to raise support for the school we founded, The Living Water School. I was hesitant at first, but then I agreed. Little did I know how this would change everything. As we visited different churches, I began to experience a freedom I had never felt before. For almost 50 years, I had always been “the pastor’s daughter” and with that came feelings of anxiety, fear, apprehension and insecurity about being authentically accepted. I carried these feelings with me every time I went to church. But now, for the first time, I was anonymous. I was just me—Anika, Damon’s wife, Mrs. Prather. I could worship freely, talk to people, and be at peace. I could be just ME.

I shared my feelings with Damon, and he opened up about experiencing a sense of freedom in pursuing his own ministry calling. For the first time, he felt that his identity was his own, not defined by being the pastor’s son-in-law. He was no longer ministering under the shadow of my family’s church but was able to step into his own role as an independent leader. Toward the end of our summer church tour, we visited McLean Bible Church, where Damon had attended before we were married. It was a joyful experience. Our kids loved the youth ministry, and while they missed our home church, they enjoyed the new environment. That’s when Damon shared with me that he felt we should make this new church our home.

I struggled deeply. A heavy sense of guilt weighed on me, as though I were betraying my family and my entire community. I had witnessed the pain in my parents’ eyes when others left our church, and now I was faced with making that same decision. What if people thought I was leaving because of some hidden scandal or for negative reasons (because, let’s be real, church folks love to gossip, right? 😅)? I had always been my brother’s biggest cheerleader, supporting him through everything—especially when he accepted the call into ministry. I was there with him at the IMPACT Conference, when Charles Gilmer prayed over him, and we both ran to a payphone afterward to share the news with our parents! Now, not long after my brother became the lead pastor, I was thinking of leaving? How could I do this to him?! What if leaving the church meant losing my brother as my best friend? What if my departure hurt the church in ways I couldn’t foresee?

In the midst of all this turmoil, I kept hearing God gently remind me to trust Him. He loves my family and my church, too, and He wouldn’t let anything happen to it. I realized that my trust in Him had to outweigh my fears and doubts.

I began to realize that following God meant trusting Him in this transition—even when it was hard. I understood that if I didn’t support Damon, I might be standing in the way of God’s plan for his life. So we met with my parents to share our decision. It was a difficult conversation, but they responded with so much love and understanding. Next, we met with my brother and wrote a formal letter to the leadership. Each step of the process deepened my grief. Damon said I walked around like someone had died. Every Sunday, I felt a confusing mix of joy and sorrow. I experienced peace and freedom at the new church, but guilt often followed, leaving me questioning if I was really okay with this. For months, I walked around like I was carrying a heavy weight. Everything seemed so dark and hopeless. What if I wasn’t close to my niece, nephews, cousins, sister in law, friends and other family members. Even with the freedom and joy I was feeling, the fear of losing those I loved so deeply seemed to be greater. All I could do is obey God through the fear. My life has shown me that when I do that, God always works everything out. This was a true test of my faith.

Over time, however, the joy became clearer. I began to recognize the sacrifice Damon had made over 16 years, submitting to the spiritual leadership of my father and my brother. This was his season now. He never made me feel like he expected anything in return, but I knew I owed him this opportunity. When I married him, I made a vow that I would never hold him back from pursuing his dreams, and now God was calling me to honor that promise.

I saw the happiness on my children’s faces as they made new friends. I began to build my own authentic friendships with women at our new church, and having to build friendships was a very new experience for me because my whole life I have always had the same friends. It didn’t take long for the ladies in my small group to start including me and it was like I was given a whole new community of sisters. While I felt joy in these new friendships, there was also guilt. Should I really be happy in a new church just because I’m enjoying these new friendships? It felt disloyal, and I wrestled with guilt that I couldn’t shake.

Then I read McLean Bible’s mission statement: “To glorify God by making disciples and multiplying churches among all nations.” Damon looked at me and said, “Baby, did you notice that this church represents everything you talk about when you travel and speak? Look around—every ethnicity is here worshiping together!”

It was like a light bulb went off. For all the grief I had been carrying, I had missed what God was doing. I had been so focused on my own feelings, my own guilt, my fears, that I hadn’t realized how perfectly this church aligned with my own life’s work. I spend my time teaching about God’s heart for racial healing and unity, and here I was—part of a church that reflected that mission. The diversity, the worship, the community—this church was a tangible expression of the vision I had been talking about for years. The vision for this was birthed out of what my dad taught our home church after he went to a Promise Keeper’s conference in the 90s. He often taught about Black history, but he also taught about racial reconciliation. Even still, my home church is predominately African American and going to McLean was God’s way of stretching me out of the comfort zone of worshipping in my own community. I was now being challenged to cultivate meaningful relationships with people of European descent, Korean, Indian, etc. within church community.

This journey has been one of the most painful transitions of my life. It’s been full of tears and questions. But through it, I’ve seen God’s hand guiding us, even when it didn’t make sense. I’m still close to my family, and we’re more intentional about spending time together outside of church since we cannot see one another at church any more. I’m so grateful for my parents and brother, who have shown us love and understanding through this difficult season. And I’m thankful for a new church home that is helping us grow spiritually, where our family is thriving, and where we feel seen for who we are. Damon is free to step into God’s independent purpose for him and I am happy to follow him on this journey knowing that we are part of a Bible teaching, welcoming and blessed church like McLean Bible Church.

This transition has been difficult, but it has also brought unexpected blessings. We have not officially joined yet, but we have attended the orientation classes. This has been a slow process for me and I am thankful that my husband has given me the grace and time I needed to rest in this decision. I trust that, in time, my grief will heal and I will come to see the fullness of God’s hand in this journey. For now, I’m walking forward in faith, following my husband’s lead, and believing that God has brought us exactly where we need to be. I’m excited to see how He will continue to work in and through us at McLean Bible Church. And through it all, I have faith that my home church will continue to be blessed for the amazing church that it is and that the relationships with my family and close friends from our home church will continue to grow and thrive.