When People Leave

A friend of mine had a not-so-great present on Easter Day:
two church members chose that day of all days to tell him they were leaving the
church and going elsewhere. They didn’t like his emphasis on children. The fascinating
thing is that they admitted my friend was right to have this emphasis; it was
just that they couldn’t cope with it.

How do we react when people announce they are leaving a
church? I suspect from anecdotal evidence there is a difference between the
minister’s attitude and the congregation’s. Many regular church members hate
the thought of anyone leaving and will do anything to keep them. It is seen as
an issue of Christian love to stay together, even if there are major
differences. These people have probably been friends for many years.

On the other hand, the minister, as an ‘outsider’, may see
it as right and healthy for the church that such people move on, and maybe even
healthy for the leavers, to. In my friend’s case, I couldn’t help but think of
a number of things: one was the value that Jesus put upon children, which
validates his stance (and about which there was no argument). Another, based on
that, was the words of Mother
Teresa, namely that Jesus loved all people, but he loved children the best.
But perhaps most decisively it was the story of the ‘rich young ruler’. Years
ago in a book called ‘Sold
Out’ Clive
Calver observed that in the modern church when the
young man went away we would have run after him and negotiated a lower
standard of discipleship just to keep him. To his credit my friend did not do
this.

Sometimes, then, it’s a Gospel thing to let people go. But there
is a difficult and delicate task of navigating this with those who are upset
that their friends have left. Even if we are relieved that someone has gone, we
should take no public pleasure in it. Even the relief might better be shared
privately with ministerial colleagues. It is not something we should in any way
risk appearing as, ‘I’ve won!’ Perhaps it can be compared on a small scale to
the scriptures that speak of God taking no
pleasure in the death of the wicked, and not
wanting anyone to perish but all to come to repentance.

I have seen people leave churches I have served, and I confess
to mixed emotions. I was encouraged by the words of an experienced Baptist
pastor when in my first appointment and enduring a rough time over this issue. He
told me something that an older minister had shared with him when he was a
young pastor: ‘Sometimes there are blessèd subtractions from the church roll.’

At the time I was facing a difficult pastoral situation that
in the end took over two years to resolve. Child protection legislation and
procedures were not established in the way they are today and I was faced with
three people in a church whose attitude to the children they led was
disturbing. With the support of my church stewards I began action to remove
them from office. One long-standing church member demanded an audience with me.
He expressed his horror at what I was doing. I was prevented from giving him
the full details, because aspects of the case were delicate and had to be kept
pastorally confidential. It is an unpleasant experience not to be able to
defend yourself when you know you are innocent. But Jesus went through far
worse than I did in that respect, of course. At the end of the conversation he
announced what he had already decided, namely that he was going to leave the
church in protest at my actions. Nothing I might have said would have swayed
him. From my side it was a case of, ‘Don’t confuse me with the truth, I’ve made
up my mind’ – except, as I’ve said, I couldn’t share truth with him. I took
comfort in the idea of a ‘blessèd subtraction’.

But there have also been two occasions during my ministry
when I have virtually prayed people out of a church, and perhaps that’s rather
shocking. Without giving specific details of the circumstances, let me nevertheless
expand that. In both cases a couple of people were opposing and obstructing
everything I was trying to do in leading the church forward into mission. Praying
like this is not something to be done lightly, and I have developed some
criteria to examine before daring to pray like this.

In each case I had to examine my own heart before praying
like this. The full prayer was, ‘Lord, please change them or move them. I’d far
rather you changed them, but if they won’t change, then please move them.’ I had
to be sure that I really meant it when I prayed, ‘I’d far rather you changed
them’. If that were the case, then I would be coming from a perspective of
grace and love.

I also had to be sure that they were not simply critics who
needed to be listened to and learned from, that is, people whose objections
needed taking into account and who themselves might be willing to hear my
responses, even if they still disagreed. The situation had to be worse than
just being traditionalists: they had to be people whose motive was the
obstruction of mission. Given that, I prayed this prayer in both cases. In one
circumstance, I believed that Freemasonry was involved, and in both cases they
tried to use their existing power bases in the church against the church
stewards and me.

Because of the power issue I look for signs of bullying. A lot
has rightly been written about the way some church leaders bully congregations,
but the converse is also true. There is nothing Christian in letting bullies
rule the church.

This is a prayer approach that takes seriously the
missionary nature of the church. It must not be deployed (and in any case,
Christian prayer is not a magical incantation or a button to press and make
something happen automatically) just for the sake of me getting my way and
having things the way I personally enjoy them. It must be about the fundamental
nature of the church, and that nature, I believe, is missionary.

Praying like this is not without its problems, even if the
above criteria have all been clearly fulfilled. One unresolved question I have
is this: it’s rather like the police stepping up patrols in an area that has
suffered vandalism. The vandalism stops in that area, but the perpetrators
simply move to another location and continue their behaviour. So if bullies
leave a church, they may go and bully people in another congregation. This has
not been far from my mind when referring such people to the local Methodist
minister. The best I can say is that at least unlike the police and the vandals
I have been able to forewarn the minister privately how they have behaved. At least
that way the minister can, if s/he chooses, establish a watching brief from the
word ‘go’.

There is another side to this: what if I am the receiving
minister when someone has left another church and come to one I am serving? Early
in my ministry, I established a principle, and I have seen no reason to change
it: if someone moves churches because of a fallout at the previous one, I will
not let them hold any post for at least six months. If they have left for bad
reasons, then these need to be processed and come through to repentance, if
reconciliation with the former congregation is not possible. If they have left
because they were victims, then they need time for their wounds to heal and for
them to forgive. Putting troublemakers or ‘spiritual tourists’ (those who move
from church to church, even within the same town) in positions of
responsibility is clearly dangerous and foolish. But it needs to be observed
for the wounded, too: wounded, unhealed people are those with the potential to become
abusers. Marc Dupont
has a telling, if self-admittedly dubious exegetically, example of this in his
book ‘Walking
Out Of Spiritual Abuse’: he talks about how King Saul was one who acted
abusively, not least towards David. But when he was selected as king, he was
found ‘hiding
in the baggage’. Often, says Dupont, it’s people with ‘baggage’ in the
metaphorical sense who end up as abusers; just to look for the outright evil
people as being candidates to cause damage is short-sighted.

These, then, are just a few of the thoughts that have been
triggered in my mind by my friend’s Easter Day experience. They are not
fully-formed, even after nearly fifteen years in the ministry. You may well be
able to refine them – and if so, please leave a constructive comment below. But
if you are going through a trying time, then I hope they will encourage you.