Leaving Well

We have been here long enough now to “lose” members of our church: either due
to different ideology, moving out of the area, relational tension, situational details, or a sense of God leading them elsewhere. It has caused me to think through the tenuous process one goes through in leaving a church fellowship, and the different approaches that people take. Any parting is difficult, but some methods seem to be less painful and more productive than others. Here are some of my observations based on our experience in the small church pastorate.

1. Face to face beforehand
Our first departure involved a long time member who spoke frankly with my husband when we were leaving our former denomination. I respected her directness in acknowledging that she was not fully in agreement with the direction that he and the church were heading in, and that rather than making herself an obstacle, she would be worshipping elsewhere. We were sad to see her go, but agreed that the issue at hand involved irreconcilable differences, and were frankly relieved that she wouldn’t be heading up an opposition party against what we felt we were being led to do. The way she left allowed us to feel mutual respect and congeniality towards one another, despite the parting of ways.

2. The Disappearing Trick
Another individual quietly stopped coming, even though they had attended the church since childhood. After several weeks, when sickness or travel couldn’t account for the absences, I called to check in. It’s always a challenge to me to know how much to “check-up” on people. On the one hand, no one wants to be or to be sought out by the “church police,” but then others are equally offended if they are not inquired after.
When we finally got in touch, she said they’d been attending another church for some time. When I asked if she’d like to get together with us to discuss anything, she said no, she wasn’t interested, and that this was just a direction she’d be looking into for a while. It was hard for me to accept her unwillingness to meet, and I kept feeling like we had failed her in some way. As she’d not given me permission to pursue it further, I had to let it go, and put a stop to my vain imaginations. After some time, we received a letter from the other pastor saying she had switched her membership over. Since my husband knew this pastor personally, a conversation beforehand would have been a courteous way to handle it – “hey, did you know a member of your church has been with us for some time, and is planning to join- how do you feel about that?”_ That’s another tough conversation, but I hope we will still have it when faced with a similar situation. While happy she’d planted herself in another church, we missed her and were befuddled as to what the underlying issues were.

3. Wall of Silence
The most painful experience of losing a family of the church was receiving a cryptic email that they wanted to be removed from church membership. All of our attempts to contact them via email or phone or in person were met by silence and unresponsiveness. We knew, by their behavior, they felt they had been wronged, but we were never given the opportunity to address it with them. If their silence was out of a desire not to be hurtful, I found the unwillingness to dialogue as harmful as anything. I finally yielded to my husband’s counsel to stop obsessing over what had gone wrong, to pray for them and to let go of my sense of responsibility for everything.

4. Seeking Together
Another family experienced a shift in their sense of calling to our church. They felt they were being called elsewhere, though they weren’t sure where, and desired our blessing for the seeking process. This was a painful blow as we were integrally involved in their lives and relied on them in several key ministries. Additionally, our experience didn’t resonate with their conclusion. Yet their early conversation with us allowed us to enter into the process with them and to envision what leaving well would look like for them and the congregation. We urged them to begin slowly transferring leadership roles to others, while remaining in the advisory and encouraging role, and to share with key leaders and friends as it unfolded. Eventually, my husband would share it with the whole church. We are still waiting to see how that works out.

It is difficult for me not to take the reality of people leaving our church personally. Each time, it involves a grieving process for me. I think over all the sacred moments we have shared, such as weddings, baptisms, graduations or funerals. I miss the presence of the people. I feel the gaps in the ministries where they no longer serve. I grieve what I feel we are unable to provide, and I feel the loss of fellowship. And if their was brokenness or resentment, I feel the wounds of that. At the same time, I understand that it is difficult for them too, and that change is often necessary (and that most things have nothing at all to do with me, I just think they do). I want to learn both to leave and let go in a grace-filled, authentic way which preserves the nature of the relationship and allows what God has already done to be built upon – whenever possible. I also need to rest in God’s grace when it’s not.

I’ve never left a church other than due to moving or natural life transitions. But if I had to, I’d like to remember that churches are like families. Each is uniquely dysfunctional, yet no less family - no less able to be used of God. I’d want to resist the temptation to romanticize other options, or to hop and shop from church to church when my ideals weren’t met.. I’d want to work through problems as I encountered them, rather than deflecting to a new setting whenever they appeared. I’d want to be fully present and engaged in service. And then, if parting from my church fellowship became necessary, I’d like to first remember to keep it direct (facebook, or "I heard so and so is going to a different church" is not direct), face difficult issues with trusted leaders, invite leadership participation, share gratitude and goodbyes, and not allow past woundedness to keep me from embracing a new church.