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October 21st, 2025
To my family and friends,

This is by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to write. I want to begin by expressing my deepest gratitude for the incredible kindness and support shown to me and my family in what has been the most difficult season our lives. Messages have come from across the country and from so many of you in Eden Prairie, Minnesota—people I’ve had the privilege of leading and serving alongside for nearly six years. Your prayers, love, and encouragement have meant more than I can say.

One message I received recently said, “The suddenness of your departure has felt heavy for many of us—almost like grief without closure. You and Ashley became part of the heartbeat of Grace, and losing you so abruptly has left a deep absence and significant grief.”

That sentiment reflects what I’ve heard from many of you, so I want to now humbly offer whatever clarity I can—for your hearts, and for mine by sharing the story of what God has done, and continues to do, in my family.

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A songwriter friend I greatly respect once told me, “If God is truly your Father, He won’t let you live a double life for long.”

That became our story—but with an important distinction: a double life belongs to someone content in their sin; a divided heart belongs to someone trapped by it and desperate to be free.

In July, my world split open. I discovered that Ashley, my wife of nearly fifteen years—the woman I led worship with week after week—had been unfaithful. The pain that followed defied language—a kind of earthquake of the soul that left nothing standing. The church graciously placed me on paid leave until October so I wouldn’t have to worry about working and our family could process the shock and begin to heal. It was time and space I continue to be grateful for.

Days of heartbreak gave way to raw, unfiltered honesty. Ashley confessed it all, and I left no stone unturned—asking every question imaginable, reading every message, and meeting with therapists who have walked hundreds of couples through infidelity. She offered full access to her phone and gave every detail so I could know it all. There were nights I sat awake until sunrise, unable to breathe under the weight of what I’d learned, unsure if I would stay or walk away.

It took time for me to understand, but I’ve come to see that not all affairs are the same. From the outside, it can look simple—two unhappy people making a reckless choice—but living through it is anything but simple. Pain, shame, and deception blur reality, and it’s only through time, truth, and the mercy of God that the fog begins to lift and the real story comes into view.

Through weeks of trembling and tears, I faced all the evidence piece by piece. What emerged wasn’t a story of mutual pursuit, but something far more tragic—a story marked by manipulation, brokenness, and sin that reached deeper than either of us first understood. Some of you have been down this heartbreaking road, and nothing here will be surprising.

In this particular situation, it began quietly. During a fragile season—while Ashley was walking through deep pain within her family of origin—a male friend began engaging her online. When she first sensed things crossing a line, she pushed back, making it clear she didn’t want that kind of relationship and that she loved her husband. But he dismissed the boundary, assuring her that nothing inappropriate was happening. Over time, his persistence wore her down. What started as harmless conversation revealed itself to be deliberate and calculated.

He identified her insecurities, mirrored her emotions to create false intimacy, and used validation and flattery to win her trust. Slowly, he began isolating her from safe voices—including mine—while making her feel increasingly dependent on his attention and approval. As the relationship deepened, Ashley leaned in more and more—believing she was understood in a way she hadn’t been before. And eventually, boundaries that were once sacred and unthinkable were crossed.

Those familiar with this kind of manipulation will recognize the pattern immediately, but it was new and devastating for both of us to uncover. Therapists who now know the full story have since confirmed what it was: psychological grooming. I didn’t even know this could happen to adults, but the more I’ve come to understand my wife’s past, the clearer it has become that she’s been a target in waiting since she was young. This was not a story of love or mutual pursuit—it was a story of manipulation intertwined with willing compromise.

While it was going on, I grappled with the pain of a growing distance I couldn’t explain while her heart was quietly dividing. I knew she carried deep wounds from her past—old scars reopened by family hurt—so I kept entering in, unaware of the weight of secrecy crushing her. She became increasingly private with her phone, hard to reach, and distracted. Behind the scenes, she ended things with him again and again, grew physically ill, cried in private, and made excuses when the kids found her in tears. She had become someone she never wanted to be.

She’s since revealed that when watching me lead worship, she would silently fall apart—grieving so deeply over what she was doing. She couldn’t take communion and would pray through tears on the stage, “Lord, is today the day You bring all of this into the light?”

That day finally came.

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I want it to be abundantly clear that Ashley refuses to use the grooming as an excuse for her sin—she continues to take full ownership of all her choices—but it’s incredibly important to me that the full picture is understood both for clarity in this particular story as we heal, and for anybody else who may find themselves as a target of this kind of pressure.

Many have asked how a wife and mother of four—a worship leader—could do something like this. But the truth is, it could happen to anybody given the right circumstances. Our enemy, the father of lies, is very patient. We’re all vulnerable in some way, shape, or form. It’s important for all of us to examine the potential cracks in our character. How destruction can take root when wounds go unhealed, when truth gives way to lies, and when sin, left unchecked, takes us further than we ever intended to go.

I asked her at least a hundred times, “Why not just bring it into the light when you had the chance?” But now I know—when shame becomes your identity, the only perceived option is to hide (Genesis 3). When Ashley finally confessed to our oldest daughter through tears, she said it better than I ever could: “I built a cage, stepped inside, locked the door behind me—and when I realized I was trapped, I didn’t know how to get out.”

Because through it all, we’ve both seen with painful clarity what sin truly does—it traps, isolates, and destroys. Ashley knows she opened doors—very small ones at first—that allowed deception to grow. She believed lies about herself, sought affirmation in the wrong place, and let compromise harden into captivity. She was both targeted and responsible, both a victim and a participant in her own fall, both deceived and deceiving.

She later told me that the lyrics to “Oh But God” haunted her every time she led that song:

“I was buried beneath my rebellion, Lost without hope of redemption, Blind to my need for a Savior—Oh but God.
Crushed by the weight of my failure, Living the lie I created, Digging my grave without knowing—Oh but God.”

That has now become her story—her identity. No defenses. No excuses. Only brokenness. Oh but God. And she has remained there: humbled, repentant, and finally free. I’ve witnessed repentance so deep, so Spirit-born, it reshaped my understanding of grace itself.

She is not the same woman she was—not even the same woman I once knew. God is healing her from wounds that began long before our story ever started—wounds that left her vulnerable. What the enemy intended for destruction, God is already weaving into redemption. And the song’s chorus has become her anthem:

“Rich in mercy, how You loved me, Too much to let me stay lost. My salvation sent from heaven, Nailing my sin to a cross.”

After weeks of asking the hardest questions of my life, I pleaded with God for clarity—for wisdom to know whether to stay or to go. I didn’t want to act out of pride, fear, or the wisdom of man. I simply wanted to obey Christ. In time, peace came—not loud or dramatic, but quiet and steady. The Lord was not releasing me from my marriage. And in that stillness, compassion began to grow where bitterness could have taken root. The grace of God softened what pain was trying to harden.

We both hope that anyone reading this who may be walking that same path—entertaining what feels harmless, secret, or comforting—please, turn back now. What feels small today can destroy everything you love tomorrow. Yet grace is still available. Confess, repent, and come home. The deep pain of exposure is nothing compared to the freedom waiting on the other side. I promise you that.

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Our hearts also ache for anyone who still carries pain or confusion because of what’s happened. I understand that pain more than I wish I did—and so does Ashley. Any silence has not been in an effort to hide. She longs to see healing take root—not only in my heart, but in the hearts of those who have been wounded along the way.

Some have questioned my decision to stay—and some still will. Others have wondered whether her repentance is genuine, and I understand why. If I were on the outside looking in, I might wonder too. But Scripture never withholds hope from the repentant heart. God always delights in restoring what’s been broken and redeeming what sin has damaged. That’s the heartbeat of the gospel.

What I’ve seen in Ashley isn’t shallow remorse or self-preservation, but the painful, Spirit-led work of genuine repentance—ongoing, imperfect, yet unmistakably real. And yes, time will tell, as it always does. But what I see already bears the quiet marks of transformation that only grace can write. Many stories end in ruin, but ours, by His mercy, is being rewritten into one of redemption.

We have a long road ahead as we rebuild, but the work has already begun—and even in the pain, there is real hope. Ashley’s desire now is simple: to walk in full transparency, to repent where her influence reached, and to warn others of sin’s deceptive pull. Like David in Psalm 51, her heart is to help others turn back to God.

For those who have been willing to engage with her, I’ve witnessed her approach each conversation with humility, honesty, and deep remorse. Watching her pursue reconciliation so sincerely has been one of the clearest evidences of God’s grace at work in her life—and I’m profoundly grateful. I’m truly proud of her.

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In that same spirit, she wrote a letter of repentance to the elders of our church—offering to stand before them or even the congregation and tell the truth. When this all began, the church announced that I had not disqualified myself from ministry and would return in due course. Their written response of forgiveness to Ashley gave us hope that redemption might not just be personal, but communal. Hope that the bride of Christ could model grace in real time. I believe that the global church’s greatest witness is not found in perfection, but in walking with repentant sinners in truth, grace, and love.

In the waiting, Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 2:5–11 became my anchor in this season:

“Now if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but in some measure… to all of you. For such a one, this punishment by the majority is enough, so you should rather turn to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I beg you to reaffirm your love for him… so that we would not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his schemes.”

I imagined a moment when Ashley’s sin—because she had been such a visible leader—could be brought into the light. I longed to see forgiveness extended and love reaffirmed, a living picture of the gospel at work among God’s people. I pictured others caught in hidden sin being called and finding the courage to confess and be healed. I saw myself leading worship again as my wife stood among our church family—not in leadership, but in fellowship—living proof that no one is beyond the reach of God’s grace. And I saw our children witnessing all of it, learning that the church can be a place where biblical redemption isn’t just theoretical—it’s real.

That vision shaped my prayers. It shaped how I forgave. And it will shape how I worship for the rest of my life.

I want it to be known that serving as the Worship Pastor at the church we’ve loved so much has been one of the greatest honors of my life. From being able to witness countless baptisms to seeing people be discipled, from the families we’ve met to the missionaries we’ve seen commissioned, from the pandemic lockdowns to the incredible growth that followed—I’ve had a front-row seat to see God’s power and faithfulness in such an incredible place and time. Leading this congregation in worship, teaching, writing songs, creating sermon openers, and building a team of gifted and godly people has been one of my life’s greatest joys. I will always be grateful for those years.

As for me on a personal level—the trauma of betrayal doesn’t mend overnight. Healing has been slow, sacred work. Being asked to resign while working to rebuild my marriage wasn’t an easy phone call to receive, but I do trust the Lord. Many of you have read the church’s public letter about my resignation, and I’m sincerely grateful for your all your prayers and support.

But if I had to choose again, I would still choose to walk this road of repentance, redemption, and rebuilding—hand in hand with my wife. I’m learning that hope can live inside sorrow—that God’s presence does not vanish in disappointment, but meets us there with mercy. We now step into uncertainty with still broken legs, but not with broken faith.

Please pray for our marriage—that as we continue to rebuild what was broken, trust would deepen, tenderness would grow, and Christ would truly make all things new.

Pray for Ashley’s ongoing healing, that the Lord would continue His redemptive work in her heart and bring complete restoration from the deep wounds she has carried for decades.

Pray for our children, that through all of this they would see redemption not as an idea, but as something living and real—even in pain. Pray that cynicism would find no foothold in their hearts, and that they would remain soft toward God and His Church.

Pray also for the other family involved, that repentance, grace, and restoration would reach every heart touched by this story. I’m deeply grateful that when Ashley reached out to the wife of her affair partner, she was met with extraordinary grace—a glimpse of redemption that continues to give us hope.

Pray for my former team—an incredible group of gifted and godly people I still care for deeply—and for the leaders of Grace as they seek to honor Christ while carrying the weight of shepherding a large and complex church.

And please pray for me—that I would lead my family with humility and wisdom, rest in God’s provision, and allow our story to point others to the unfailing love of the Redeemer who never stops pursuing His people.

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You can reach me at justinkintzel@me.com, on social media, or through this site, where I’ll continue to write, create, and share music and projects as the Lord leads.

Thank you for the incredible privilege of serving you and for taking the time to read this. My departing words are from the first verse I ever highlighted in the Bible I read from stage every Sunday that still captures my heart for worship:

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” — Colossians 3:16

With love and gratitude,

Justin Kintzel

To read Ashley’s letter of repentance, you can view that here.