Tonight I just had to get out. I actually felt it yesterday, but I let things get in the way. I hadn’t done this in a long time, and I was over due. So I left the house from about 9:20 – 9:55 and just prayed.
I haven’t written much about church lately. That’s been deliberate. I’ve been pretty discouraged about it, and I just didn’t know what I could say. Since my last post about 2 month ago, the deacons meetings have stopped. This was after our minister told the deacon’s group that he was the leader, and that he didn’t think that a team approach was the right way to go. He also spoke about needing help, wanting more input from us and others as we went forward. Since that time, we’ve had a couple of meetings together, but nothing recently.
I met with him for lunch on Saturday. I’ve been wanting to get with him for weeks, but couldn’t work it out (and I chickened out). He’s been gone overseas visiting the church we sponsor in Indonesia for about 2 weeks. One of the reasons I haven’t written about this was because I didn’t want to express my feelings publicly until he and I had an opportunity to talk.
So we finally were able to meet on Saturday. After some chit chat, I expressed how I felt that my fears over what he had said back in December about being in charge seem to be coming true. The deacons, in my mind the ones that should be his inner circle, weren’t being included or sought out for advice. It felt that he was just doing his own thing. I knew he wanted input and was probably getting some from somewhere, but it wasn’t from us. As far as official leadership in the church goes, it’s him, the campus minister and the deacons. We have no elders right now, that’s it. We also talked about some other dynamics that have been going on with giving out responsibility and accountability.
After I had said my piece, he expressed to me how this was a complete surprise to him. He had been feeling the opposite – that he was really trying to include people in the decision making. He had been asking for people to give their opinions, but had gotten little response. He had handed out responsibility, but people hadn’t really taken it. He was honestly trying, but felt unsupported. Ouch.
I left that conversation more hurt and confused than I was going in. I had hoped to break some ground, that there would be some recognition of sin and a change going forward. What I was left with was a bigger picture of the weakness in my church. Certainly, I think there are some things that could be done differently to help the situation (which we talked about and he acknowledged), but the magic bullet solution wasn’t there. What I was left with was a picture of a dis-unified, self absorbed, apathetic church. (That does not describe everyone, and is probably over the top, but it was the picture I saw right then.)
I had longed to have this conversation because I had thought that I could then get this off of my chest. That I could relieve the burden I had been carrying. But instead, I felt it even more! I was carrying the weight of the health of the church on my shoulders. I wanted to run and hide.
I should have gotten out and prayed last night, but I didn’t. Tonight, as I snapped at the kids, I knew that I couldn’t put it off. I had tried to pray in my home late on Sunday, but there were too many distractions. There’s nothing like a good walk and talking to God. So off I went.
I cried out to God, I ranted and raved. I asked why? What was the point of it all? What was being a Christian about, anyway? What was I to do? Was it my problem or just my pride to think I had an answer? I just want to serve Him. Was He putting this burden on me or was I taking up of my own? Was it up to me to fix the church? Who was I to think I could fix my church? I began to think maybe I was insane as I walked my neighborhood streets, talking out loud, crying and flipping back and forth emotionally. I asked over and over and over what I was to do with this.
I have this route I walk when I pray. It helps to go the same way every time, then there’s nothing new to distract me from my time with God. I was about two blocks from home and I felt just as burdened and anxious as when I had started. I began to feel like maybe I wasn’t going to get any answers (which made me more discouraged.) May be this wasn’t really me and God after all, maybe it was just all psychological therapy and I wasn’t doing it right. I told God that time was short and I needed help. I had committed myself to Him 17 1/2 years ago and I wasn’t going to give up, but I felt like I didn’t know which way to go anymore, and I couldn’t go on like this. What do you want me to do!?!
Just give yourself to my people
OK. It was weird, it just came to me. And I was peaceful about it, not anxious. (I always look at stories like this as I they’re a bit wacko, but I had been acting a bit wacko, so it’s probably appropriate.)
But what about the leadership?
Just give yourself to my people.
But what does that mean for me as a Deacon?
Just give yourself to my people.
What about…
Just give yourself to my people.
I began to think about the folks in the houses around me, acquaintances. No, I’m not talking about them. Those aren’t your problem or responsibility, let Me worry about them. I can take care of my wife, my kids, my close friends at church, the other deacons, my minister. Beyond that I have neighbors and coworkers; I can take care of them. It all sounds a bit hokey right now, but at that moment it was just what I needed. At that moment, it was the perspective that I needed and brought me peace (Although typing it has made me a bit anxious again. It sounds just plain cheesy.)
I had about a block left to go, so I prayed about those people. I prayed about my girls, that I’d be a better Dad like God was to me. I prayed for my wife, that I could be her partner, teammate, not another kid to care for. I prayed for two couples in church that are in counseling, but largely without the support of friends in the church, that they’d see the best in each other and hang in there. I prayed for my friend who lives far away, far from any church family, in the middle of nowhere, that he and his family would be OK. And I prayed that I’d remember Just give yourself to my people. because I already had started to forget.
And I arrived home with a proper perspective and much less burdened.

(That title ought to get people curious. Don’t panic, read on.)
A couple of weeks ago I came across this post at Radical Congruency which quoted an entire article by Greg Kendall-Ball at the New Wineskins blog. It was about why folks leave the church.
Now in my church family (ICoC) the upheaval in the past two years has been hard. We’ve learned a lot about ourselves and our churches and each other. Some, in response to what they’ve seen, have decided to leave for what they hoped would be greener pastures. In some cases they were long, soul wrenching times of introspection before they left, in others it seemed more spontaneous. In my church we’ve lost I’d guess 20 – 30 members in the past 2 -3 years. In the last year or so, several of those have been my closest friends. They’ve left, to some degree, over issues that I’ve agreed with them on, at least on some level. I’d be lying if I said that the thought that perhaps I too should leave hadn’t crossed my mind. It has even been suggested by some who left, not directly but indirectly, that they thought I would eventually follow those men.
Which brings the question, when is it time to leave? Now for those members of my church reading this, don’t get the wrong idea. I am not planning on leaving, I don’t feel compelled to do so nor do I see myself moving in that direction. I do have some things I am frustrated with, some bigger than others, but I’m not going anywhere right now. Please don’t read into this post anything of the sort. It’s simply a discussion of the issue of leaving a church.
So back to the question, when leave? Or better yet, how do you decide if this is an issue worth leaving over. I can imagine things that would cause me to step down from a leadership role, but to leave to go to another church? I can’t see it. I love these people; I’ve been here in this church from the beginning. I uprooted my family to move here to start this church. So what could be so big that I’d be willing to give it up and move on, starting over with new relationships?
Watching folks I’m close to leave has made me think about it. At times I have felt that it may inevitable that I too leave. The thought made me very sad and depressed. I don’t want to start over, to try to find someplace where I can trust the people. Somewhere I’ll be taken care of and where I can care for people. I think about how sad it would be that one of the founders of the church felt compelled to leave what he had started (That’s already happened. One of those four in my earlier post was one of the founding members of the congregation.) I though why should I leave, I was here first! Where would I go? Move to another city? Would it be better there? All thoughts brought me back to, what would make me go through all that?
That brings me back to Greg’s New Wineskins post. He writes about this thing that seems to plague not only the ICoC, but the CoC’s as a whole. That is the idea that some doctrinal issue or personal disagreement is big enough that a person feels the need to leave. I know that the CoC’s are not alone in this, churches have been splitting since Luther nailed his Thesis to the church door. But we seem to be particularly good at it. Greg lays out the story of a few people who have left the CoC recently, and talks about how sad it is for the church to loose those voices and their insight.
At the end of the article he acknowledges that there is no easy solution, and admits that he has no magic bullet. But then he hits on something profound:

One possible solution (and I am thinking of my family here), is for the church to act more like a family, and less like a country club. In my family we can disagree, we can argue, we can spit and scream and scratch . . . but leaving the family, breaking those bonds, is unthinkable. But in a country club, if I don’t like the new members, or the greens are getting a little rough, I can always take my dues and find a better club that suits me more, or I can push members out or bar others from getting in.

This idea has shaped my thought on this in recent weeks. This is not just an organization I belong to, it’s my church, my family. Family can be a real pain sometimes (family – sorry about that, but it’s true), but you’d never, never, never think about leaving them. You may stay away, even for years, but only in extreme cases of physical or mental danger or abuse would you disown your family. And even then, you’d probably acknowledge that they were your family. Family is permanent, membership is temporary.
If you think about it, that’s how God works with us. We call Him Father, He calls us Sons and Daughters. Jesus is our brother. We are members, not of God’s club, but his household.
So yes, I may have issues with my church. Actually, I will probably always have some. Yes I may even decide I can’t be a part of the leadership at some point due to that. But to leave – this is my family, why would leave and where would I go? It’s possible, but things would have to get real, real bad for that to happen.