Dispatch #004 The Pew No One Reached

Psalm 68:5–6 “Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God settles the solitary in a home…”

When I was a boy, church was my refuge.
Not because my family took me—
They didn’t.
I went alone.

Sometimes I ran.
Sometimes I skated.
But I always went. Because I wanted to be near people who loved Jesus.
People who spoke the language of faith that I only heard inside church walls.
I wanted to feel the presence of someone who might actually speak to my soul.

Wednesday nights were “Family Night.”
At the end of the service, the pastor would call all the families to the front to be blessed.
And there they were.
Father. Mother. Children.
All holding hands like the cover of some Christian magazine—
A scene that felt perfect… and miles from my reality.

And me?
I sat in the pew.
Alone.

No one said, “Hey, come stand with us.”
No one even looked my way.

I sat there—feeling the rejection settle into my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake.
Feeling the burn in my throat as I tried to hold back tears.
Not because I didn’t want to cry, but because I didn’t want pity.
I didn’t want anyone’s “bless your heart.”
I just wanted to be wanted.

And when the prayers started, I stood up quietly.
Slipped out the back.
Skated home in the dark.

I cried most of the way.
Then wiped my face clean before I got close to the house.
Didn’t want anyone to see the proof that even church could break your heart.

But I don’t share this to blame.
I share it because that pain—that hollow moment in the middle of God’s house—did something sacred.
It prepared me.

It gave me eyes to see pain early.
To spot the kid hanging back.
To catch the soldier who’s dying behind the smile.
It made me the kind of man who can feel the ache before they say a word.

And it made me determined—absolutely resolved—not to be absent in my sons’ lives.
To never let them feel invisible.
To be there, hand on their shoulder, heart fully present.

So yeah, I found out early that even the sanctuary can feel like exile.
But God saw me.
He always did.
And now, I make sure others don’t sit in pews wondering if anyone will reach for them.