Dear Reader

Who do I write for?

Dear Reader,

Who do I write for?

At its core, this is about our own healing journey. But I’m not the kind of person who looks inward without also looking outward. Throughout my life, I’ve sought deeper, more enduring meaning in everything I undertake, and this is no exception.

If this were solely for me, I’d keep my thoughts locked away in a private journal. But I choose to write publicly because I see the profound impact our story has on you, the reader.

“Writing is a beautiful way to let out pain. When you put your story out there, you release it. Once it is no longer buried or stuck within you, you are free to move forward.”
― Sandra Marinella

Whether you’ve been caught in the web of our specific toxic system, or are emerging from your own, knowing you are not alone is paramount. That connection matters profoundly.

I have something to say to each of you, to all of you. My friends, I hold you all in my heart with deep love.

To my friends from the fire:

I am extremely sorry for those of you regularly reading this and feeling the sting of recognition, witnessing your own story reflected in these pages. I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it, because the weight of my compliciteness remains heavy.

I know your pain isn’t just tied to ONE person or moment. It’s bigger than that. And I understand that I, we, played a part in this trauma.

I hope that by laying bare the chaos of our shared past, we can find clarity and, ultimately, some measure of peace.

To my dear friends who aren’t ready to read this yet, who may one day return to these pages when the time feels right and the past feels safe to revisit:

I love you deeply and respect the need to compartmentalise, close off the past and focus on building your future. We all navigate pain and trauma differently. While our family has plunged into its depths, slowly finding our way back to the surface, we understand that not everyone is ready—or able—to dive in yet.

We will always be here for you. And if, in this life, you choose to keep moving forward without looking back, that’s okay too. These writings, these recollections, this process is here for you, perhaps more than anyone. But facing it may take time.

We understand the inner turmoil. It’s okay to pause, even briefly, and allow yourself to remember.

To those who continue to follow, serve and honour the master despite reading these pages of truth:

One day, what you’ve read may awaken your conscience. One day, the weight of the reality you’ve been part of may hit you, shaking your sense of stability. The realisation of the harm, the brokenness, and the pain endured by others may come crashing in.

When that day comes, I want you to know, we will still be here for you. Our arms will be open, though perhaps somewhat wary and cautious. I was once his most loyal advocate, his biggest cheerleader. I know all too well what I ignored and chose not to see.

If the dam breaks and your world crumbles, reach out. You will find a listening ear here, waiting for you.

To the MASTER and HIS family:

I honestly can’t imagine you reading through all of this. How could you bear such disturbing truth, so many memories? But if you are reading, if you are dissecting my words, questioning my motives, or dismissing me as emotionally unstable, I want you to know something:

I don’t care.

Truly, go ahead.

Because even within your scrutiny, some small sliver of truth might be seeping into your soul. It may take a lifetime for you to recognise it, but I continue to pray that the truth will set you free.

While so many of these mega-churches and ministries are now crumbling under the weight of their shame and carnality, you still have the chance for redemption. The only thing left is for you to face your own reflection.

Do I write for you? Not primarily, not even secondarily. But I do hope that, through my writing, truth can find its way to even the hardest of hearts. And yes, that includes yours.

What you do with this truth is entirely up to you.

I pray for your freedom. I pray for your redemption.

You may not feel it, and you may not see it, but you will always be worth the fight.

With Love,

The Willow Tree