Where Do We Go From Here?

When the world looks at a woman like Bridget Hilliard, they see someone celebrated, cared for, and comforted through her trials. But when I see my own reflection, all I see is a woman the world has overlooked—a woman cast aside, broken, yet still striving to stand on the promises of God. What happens when the one who was once a pillar of the church is left crumbling, carrying her children through the ashes of what once was? Where is the Body of Christ when its parts are bleeding, bruised, and begging for mercy?

I ask these questions not because I doubt my Savior, but because I need His people to understand the depth of the wounds left by those who claim His name. I was the one who served with all my heart, pouring out everything I had—my love, my resources, my time. I was the one praying over others, collecting their tears, and ushering in His presence. Yet when the storms came, the very church I helped build became a place of rejection, a source of my pain.

I Am Bridget Hilliard—Without the Platform

I don’t have the status or recognition of a Bridget Hilliard. But I know the pain of feeling stripped bare, left vulnerable, and voiceless. I know what it feels like to be mishandled by a man I trusted, a man I called my husband, and the church we built together. I’ve been left in the cold, labeled, judged, and forgotten—homeless, with my children, navigating shelters and broken systems. And yet, here I am, still crying, still calling on God, still seeking His face.

I know I’m not the only one. There are countless women who feel like nobodies in the shadow of somebody else’s story. Women who gave their everything to ministries, marriages, and families, only to be met with silence and shame when they needed help the most. Where do we go when the church no longer sees us? Who will hold us when we’re too broken to stand?

This Is Not My Jesus

The rejection I’ve experienced from people claiming His name has no resemblance to the Jesus I know. My Jesus sat with the outcast. He held the hand of the broken. He wept with those who mourned and touched those deemed untouchable. He would never turn His back on the hurting or shame the sinner seeking grace.

So why does the church look so different? Why is there no reconciliation, no safe space for women like me to process the deaths of our dreams, the deaths of our hope, and the loss of the very places we called home?

Strength for First Ladies and Women of God

God gave me a ministry in 2012, and though I feel lost now, I know He hasn’t abandoned His promises. My pain is not wasted, and neither is yours. To every woman who feels invisible, undervalued, and cast aside, I want you to know this: You are seen. You are loved. You are not forgotten by the God who calls you His own.

I may not have the world’s platform, but I have my story. And through my tears, I am determined to turn my pain into a testimony that strengthens other women. I want to remind you that the same God who sees the famous sees the forgotten. He is not a respecter of persons; He is a respecter of faith.

I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this—Jesus is still the healer of broken hearts. He is still the lifter of bowed-down heads. And He is still the one who turns ashes into beauty. Hold on, sister. We may be bruised, but we are not broken. God is still writing our story, and the next chapter is filled with hope.

From Tears to Testimony

I’m still here, crying out to God, not because I’m weak, but because I know He hears me. I’m still believing that He will make beauty from my ashes. I’m still trusting that He will restore everything I’ve lost. And I’m sharing this because I want you to believe it for yourself, too.

You may feel like a nobody, but in God’s eyes, you are His beloved daughter. Keep holding on. Keep praying. Keep seeking Him. The church may fail, people may hurt us, but Jesus never will. Let’s rise together, from tears to testimony, as women who refuse to let the world define our worth.

This is not the end of our story—it’s the beginning of something beautiful. 💛