Letting Go After Loyalty: Healing, Boundaries, and Becoming the Temple

Catherine Guillaume-Sackey
May 27
5 min read

Catherine (🇭🇹Guillaume🇭🇹) Sackey, MPAP

May 27, 2025

Introduction: Becoming New Is Both Beautiful and Brutal

Walking in your new identity in Christ is not always a mountaintop moment. Sometimes, it feels like walking uphill in the dark—asking yourself, Am I really this new person? Can I enjoy anything I used to? Will the people I love still recognize me… or will I?

This weekend, I wrestled deeply with those questions.

I had a rough day. A friendship I had held on to—one I knew from the beginning was transactional—finally ran its course. I was plucked out of the crowd at my lowest and told how great I was at a time I didn’t believe it myself. I was warned: People don’t ask you to be part of their circle unless you’re useful. And sure enough, that became our rhythm. She coached me, and even when I outgrew the coaching, I stayed—out of respect and gratitude. She stayed—because I still brought her value.

Behind every new connection since, I’ve carried that belief: They only want me for what I can do, not who I am. And over time, I became okay with that.

But the more I grew in Christ, the more I felt the tension of this arrangement. I began to realize that being seen as useful is not the same as being seen as whole. And the truth hit hard: I had been groomed, not necessarily with ill intent, but by someone who saw my need and filled it—for a time.

That ended this weekend.

When Triggers Break the Illusion

Everything came to a head when one of my deepest triggers was set off: I felt manipulated, undervalued, and spoken down to. And when those things happen, a different kind of fire rises in me—not peace, but anger. And I know what that anger births: sabotage.

Trying to distract myself, I went to a comedy club—somewhere that used to bring me joy. I told myself, I’m healed. I can handle this space. But from the moment the show started, I knew I was wrong. The cursing, the energy in the room, the crowd echoing profanity like praise—it wasn’t entertainment. It was a reminder: I don’t belong here anymore.

My kids had asked me before I left, “Is it okay to go as a Christian?” And I answered casually, thinking, As long as I carry myself well, yes. But sitting there, I realized something deeper: it's not just about behavior—it’s about the atmosphere I choose to bring God’s presence into.

I left. Not out of guilt, but because I felt the Spirit within me grieve.

That moment sent me searching for clarity—not just about what I’m walking away from, but what I’m walking into.

If I Am Israel, Then the Promises and the Prayers Are Mine

After taking a solid day and a half to think through everything—not out of emotional ache, but out of intentional reflection—I returned to my reading early this morning. As I opened Scripture, I landed on Solomon’s prayer in 2 Chronicles 6. Reading it brought clarity and reminded me of a few things I had almost forgotten.

Solomon’s words weren’t just historical—they were deeply personal. They brought focus. They reminded me that God doesn’t dwell in temples made by human hands alone, but in hearts set apart. And if I am Israel—rebuilt, repurposed, and walking in covenant—then these promises belong to me now.

“If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s descendants, heirs according to the promise.” — Galatians 3:29 (CEB)

That realization didn’t come in a moment of crisis, but through quiet conviction. It helped me recognize that Solomon’s prayer wasn’t just a dedication—it was a framework for how we honor God in what He’s building within us.

Solomon’s Temple Prayer—Now Prayed Over Me

In 2 Chronicles 6, Solomon builds and dedicates the temple. He stands before the people and asks a bold question:

“But will God really live on earth with people? Even heaven can’t contain you—how much less this temple I’ve built?” — 2 Chronicles 6:18 (CEB)

He then pleads for God's presence to dwell there anyway—for His eyes and heart to remain on the temple day and night. He prays for forgiveness, healing, justice, mercy. He prays for people like me—flawed and seeking restoration.

And now I understand: I am that temple.

“Don’t you know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you?” — 1 Corinthians 3:16 (CEB)

Solomon’s prayer wasn’t just for a building. It was a prophetic intercession for every future temple—including you and me.

And that brings up an honest question I wrestled with this weekend: How do I guard this temple while still living in a world that doesn’t honor it?

What Does a 12-Step Program Look Like in the Christian Walk?

As I processed that question, another one surfaced: What does healing look like for someone who follows Christ?

I’ve always admired the structure of the 12-step recovery model. It provides language, accountability, and process. And so I began to wonder: What if we had a 12-step rhythm for spiritual rebuilding—a covenant walk that helps us protect the temple and embody our new identity?

Because sometimes I wish healing had a finish line. But the truth is: healing has a rhythm. It’s not about a final destination—it’s about daily direction.

Here’s what that 12-step covenant walk looks like for me:

Surrender – I can’t save myself. (John 15:5)
Believe in Jesus – He is the only way to healing and purpose. (John 10:10)
Submit My Will – His will > mine. (Matthew 6:10)
Confess and Come Clean – What I hide festers; what I name, God heals. (1 John 1:9)
Ask for Renewal – I need a transformed mind. (Romans 12:2)
Accept My Identity – I am a new creation. (2 Corinthians 5:17)
Heal My Relationships – Boundaries and forgiveness coexist. (Romans 12:18)
Choose Godly Community – I am not meant to walk alone. (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10)
Abide Daily – His presence is my oxygen. (John 15:4)
Be Alert to Patterns – What once comforted me, now compromises me. (Matthew 26:41)
Let Scripture Lead – It anchors my steps. (Psalm 119:105)
Share the Grace – What God gave me, I give freely. (Matthew 28:19–20)

This is not just a set of steps. It’s the lifestyle of someone who knows what it’s like to be broken—and knows Who rebuilt them.

When Loyalty Becomes a Form of Bondage

Before fully living this new rhythm, I faced a truth that haunted me: Not everyone who helped me when I was broken belongs in my healed life.

I stayed out of obligation. But then I remembered:

“I don’t call you servants… I call you friends.” — John 15:15 (CEB)

Letting go wasn’t betrayal. It was clarity.

Set Apart and Still Becoming

Yes, I left the club. Yes, I walked away from a long-standing relationship. Yes, some may call that selfish.

But I’d rather be selfish for God than self-destructive for people.

Because choosing God keeps me from falling off the wagon.

I am Israel. I am the temple. I am still becoming. I will guard this sacred ground like my life depends on it—because it does.

Reflective Questions for Your Own Journey

Have I clung to relationships beyond their season?
Am I performing for acceptance instead of living from my identity?
Where have I confused loyalty with bondage?
What atmospheres compromise the holiness of my temple?
How am I actively protecting my peace?

If you're asking these questions, you're not alone. Let’s keep walking together—day by day, step by step, grace by grace.