The Hope in Our Scars: Finding the Bride of Christ in the Underground of Disillusionment I was 21, unmarried, and pregnant the day I sat across from my pastor, asking for help. My voice was trembling, my future uncertain. He listened, nodded, and then handed me a stack of articles on why premarital sex is wrong. That was it. No prayers. No tears. No hand on my shoulder or promise to walk with me. Just shame—neatly stapled and doctrinally justified.