I am in a bit of a conundrum. I am part of a small-town, non-denominational, evangelical church in southern New Hampshire. I attended for about 6 months before the pandemic. Now it is coming up on a year that I have yet to return to regular in-person worship, in spite of the doors being open since last June. I take this pandemic and our responsibility to follow precautionary measures seriously, and my community does not. I tune in to the live stream every Sunday and watch while people gather with no masks: singing, hugging, laughing, and taking communion (once a month of course, like any good non-denom church with an anemic view of the sacraments, but I digress). Even as I write this I am thinking “It seems pretty obvious, Justin, that this community isn’t in line with your understanding of kingdom values. What’s the conundrum?”
The conundrum is that I want to think it’s worth staying to influence for good. Seek out opportunities for change. These are “my people”. I grew up in this subculture and it’s not so easily abandoned. I want to be a voice when a harmful theology is taught in a small group, or bible study. I want to help the teaching elder see his community discipled and not just converted. I want to be a listening ear when the doubters start to question the system.
There are so many obstacles. I can’t become a member, because I recently discovered that the opener of the statement of faith (that I have to sign) is affirmation of “inerrancy in the original manuscripts” of Scripture. I can’t be involved because nothing is being done in accordance with even the most basic pandemic protocol. Can I go back to that in-person service when this is over and just be ok that things have just been humming along like nothing is happening? Even the small group I take part in is meeting in person and then doing Zoom for just my wife and I. It’s mentally exhausting. Then there are the politics (no explanation needed).
Anyone else experiencing this kind of decision? Have any thoughts? Post a comment here or on Twitter @JMacArthurC
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Thank you for your thoughtful and thorough response James. It is helpful. Here is where I would assess your criteria at this point:
1. I am in a good relationship with the teaching elder. It’s pretty much the only thing keeping me hopeful. Our last meeting was concerning the faith statement on Scripture, and he wanted me to wait until we were back in person to have the discussion more in-depth. In essence, the pandemic is putting things on hold. I have also held my cards on certain topics pretty close to the chest, which leads to number two.
2. Before the pandemic I was comfortable with not dying on a great many hills: women leadership, inerrancy, gospel, etc. I would speak when an opportunity arose but it wouldn’t be something I’d pursue. The pandemic provided the first hill to die on. I approached a leader about my displeasure with in-person services and I wrote a letter as well. There was also a cult that came to town (I need to blog about this one!) and that got crazy because the teaching elder almost got booted for denouncing it. The pandemic response is a hill I tried to stand on and I’m just not influential enough and completely outnumbered. An elder making statements about who to vote for from the pulpit was a low point as well. It’s a lot. The statement of faith is the most recent and surprising. I did not expect something to sign to join this church. That ultimately will be the hill that proves insurmountable. I don’t think it’s ethical to sign something I can’t affirm and then turn around and possibly end up teaching something different after having signed it.
3. I had a better sense of reception when I was more involved. Great conversations in men’s bible study, interaction with leadership, seeing the good with the bad. I think that approaching a year of pandemic life has me so far removed from the balances of good and bad being somewhat equitable.
No real decision can be made until the pandemic draws to a close.
This has also got me thinking about best approaches going forward. It seems to me that “bible studies” just end up being “how can I meet with some people to affirm what I already think, believe, and practice”. Considering starting a book club wherein those who are interested come prepared to be challenged, encouraged, and changed.
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I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Justin. It’s very painful – both choices probably feel very painful.
I don’t have great advice, because this differs for all of us. But let me offer my experience as one of many test cases.
I was at a highly complementarian, highly Calvinistic church for 10 years. I spent my high school and college years at the church and made many friends there. I started learning about the New Perspective about five years in and slowly came to the realization about how many things were wrong with my church’s theology and practice. First, it was their narrow understanding of the resurrection. Then their view of women. Then their view of social justice and race. And finally their view of abuse.
I stuck around for about four years after I became aware of my church’s problems. Although I felt so many reservations about so many things, I enjoyed close ties with many people. We were building community within my ministry, and that was enough to keep myself focused and hopeful.
Your quote below really encompassed my rationale:
“The conundrum is that I want to think it’s worth staying to influence for good. Seek out opportunities for change. These are ‘my people’. I grew up in this subculture and it’s not so easily abandoned. I want to be a voice when a harmful theology is taught in a small group, or bible study. I want to help the teaching elder see his community discipled and not just converted. I want to be a listening ear when the doubters start to question the system.”
I resonate with that so much, man.
I wanted to stick around to help the young people in the youth group whose parents were grooming them to accept purity culture and Christian nationalism. I knew the Young Adults Ministry had become a shelter for queer kids that didn’t have a social outside of the church. And in my heart of hearts, I hoped so much that reformation would come to my church. I dreamed about it, I prayed about it, and I wept over it many times.
I was able to some of those those goals. I was able to build relationships with some of those high schoolers and show them an alternative way of thinking. I was able to build friendships with those queer young adults that lasted long after we all left the church. I also had friends within the community that felt similarly about the situation and built me up.
But there was one goal that never came true: reformation. Reformation never came. I and those who longed for it tried and tried and eventually came to accept the answer: a resounding no. People just didn’t want the changes. They didn’t want to think about the Gospel and Jesus differently. They didn’t want to rethink their hierarchies. They didn’t want to view the world from the perspective of the marginalized. They just didn’t want it, and they made that known.
So after four years of trying to bear with them and bring about incremental changes, I realized it was time to shake the dust off my feet. It was so incredibly painful, and I know I could have gone about it differently. But at the end of the day, I don’t regret staying as long as I did, and I don’t regret leaving. I think the answer will vary for all of us.
These are just my two cents, but I think it’s important to bring these criteria to bear on the situation:
1. Are there people with you in the community who can walk alongside you? Are you carrying this massive weight this alone?
2. On hills are you willing to do battle? In other words, where do you think you need to be outspoken about your reservations? Although I was able to have conversations with pastors and laypeople about the gospel and women in ministry, I ultimately drew a line around abuse. When my congregation became embroiled in an abuse scandal, that’s when I knew that there could be no compromise. It would either be reform or my departure.
3. Do you have a sense of how receptive people are to change? Or have you yet to test those waters? My dad eventually came to the conclusion that he was just going to start speaking out on issues until the church kicked him out.
I’m so sorry that you and your wife are going through this. It’s so lonely. It’s my prayer that you’ll find people around you who will join you in the struggle. But it’s also my prayer that you will find peace in whatever you choose to do, whether that’s to stay and help the people you can, or move on to a new flock where other people will benefit from your presence.
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