Tammy Ingram

A Brief Pause, But Not A Goodbye

🕊️💔🕊️

Death Has Its Sting

I am going to take a couple of weeks.

With my daddy dying just a few days ago, and although I shared a post and a video in his honor, the truth is that I am devastated. I need time to grieve, to mourn, and to simply be his daughter for a little while.

For those who know me well, stepping away is not something I do easily. My life is deeply intertwined with ministry: teaching, studying Scripture, writing, and pouring into people week after week across four ongoing ministries, my weekly teachings and Bible studies, curriculum I write for state prisons and law enforcement, and my work with women and foster children.

I am also still battling the effects of triple-negative breast cancer, now three years in, with more surgeries still ahead. Even through all of it, God has continued to allow me to serve. My fall studies with law enforcement, women, and foster children will continue as planned.

Right now, I need to breathe.

And while I’ve been sitting in this place of grief, something else has been stirring. A year ago, before entering a ten-hour surgery that nearly took my life, I recorded a twenty-three-minute video about what had happened to me. I listened to it again this week and heard myself say the name of the church where I was violated, after being threatened with a lawsuit if I spoke publicly. They never followed through. I said their name five times, and nothing happened.

Hearing my own words a year later gave me a different perspective. What happened to me was never meant to be the whole story. It became the beginning of a much larger conversation, no longer about one church, but about all churches, and the gap between what we expect a church to be and the safeguards that actually exist.

We entrust our churches with our children, our women, our elderly, and our vulnerable. But good intentions are not a safeguarding system. Hope is not a safety policy. We need real conversations about background screening, training, mandated reporting, volunteer accountability, and clear reporting pathways, systems that let people speak up before something becomes a tragedy. Discernment is not cynicism.

I believe this also means pursuing legislation that establishes stronger, more consistent protections for vulnerable people within religious organizations. That will require wisdom, legal expertise, and church leaders willing to recognize that safeguarding is not an attack on ministry. It is part of ministry. Protecting people is not a lack of faith. It is an expression of love.

I believe God is asking me to take what was intended to harm me and let Him use it for good, for the saving of many lives (Genesis 50:20). That includes children who deserve safe churches. Women who should serve without fear. Foster children and vulnerable people who cannot always advocate for themselves. Survivors who deserve to be heard, not silenced, not threatened. And the generations coming after us, including my grandchildren, who I want to inherit a Church that has done the hard work of becoming safe, not just said the words.

This is where Loved Shack is beginning to take shape in a greater way. My calling hasn’t gotten smaller because of what happened. It’s gotten broader. When I return with my full strength, I will continue pursuing awareness, education, advocacy, and legislative change alongside everything else God has entrusted to me.

I did not choose this conversation because I wanted it. I’m choosing it because I can no longer ignore what I’ve learned.

So for the next couple of weeks, please understand if I go quiet. I am not abandoning the mission. I am grieving my daddy, preparing for what’s ahead, and trusting Father God with the next chapter. When I return, I will have much to say, much to teach, and much to do.         \

I believe the Church can do better. I believe the Church must do better. And I believe we can have this conversation without destroying what we love.

Now we need to make sure churches are safe.

That is the conversation I am coming back to. And by the grace of God, I intend to keep going until the conversation becomes action, action becomes change, and change protects lives and laws.

For my daddy. For my children and grandchildren. For the women, foster children, and people I serve. For the vulnerable. For survivors. For the Church I still love.

Amen.

Until next time . . .

❤️ Where hearts meet daily: Lovedshack.com/chaplains-corner-blog