Gospel.com Blog

How does your church react when a member of the congregation leaves?

Gordon Atkinson, longtime pastor (and blogger) has written a thoughtful essay describing the importance of gracefully listening to the “parting shots” of departing church members… even when what they say isn’t what you want to hear:

Most of the time when people leave our church, however, they just disappear. We notice their repeated absence after some weeks have passed. If I can track them down, they’ll often give me their parting shot, a short, abbreviated explanation of why they are leaving. These parting shots can be difficult to understand. Sometimes people are angry over a real or imagined slight. Some people cannot honestly address why they are leaving the church, so they convince themselves that they’re “just not being fed,” or they need a place with more music or better music or different preaching. Sometimes people just lie—they don’t want to admit that they’d rather attend a large church where no one notices when they sleep in on Sunday morning, so they point a finger at a theologically wayward Sunday school teacher, or at my sermons…

Being in the ministry requires us to develop a thick skin. We need to learn to spot the bull and let it go without wasting too much emotional energy on it. But we also need to cultivate the ability to hear what people are really saying by listening to what is behind their words. However painful it may be, we must listen to the parting shots of those who leave, because there is truth buried there—below the anger and the scapegoating and the general dishonesty. My advice is to ignore one person’s opinion of you or your ministry, and to watch for trends and patterns.

I imagine that’s much easier to say than to put into practice; it can’t be fun listening to people tell you that they dislike your preaching so much that they’re leaving the church. If you’re a pastor, I’d be interested to hear how you handle these “parting shots,” and if you’ve learned to dig beneath the words to discern what’s really being communicated.

But since I’m not a pastor, my interest in this topic is more in how I, as a typical churchgoer, should act when I feel called to leave a church. I’ve never left a church out of anger or theological dispute; it’s always been something more mundane, such as moving to a different city. But reading Atkinson’s article makes me regret that I have rarely sat down with the pastor or leadership of a church to explain what I’m doing and offer a (friendly and positive) parting shot. Many employers conduct exit interviews with employees who are leaving the company; surely there’s valuable information to be gained from an informal interview with a departing churchgoer.

Pastors, how do you respond when you learn that a church member is leaving the church? And fellow churchgoers, have you ever delivered a “parting shot” upon leaving a church, and how did it go?

Have you ever lived through the death of a church?

Since posting about photos of abandoned churches last week, “church death” has been on my mind. By chance, I came across a post at Mere Comments about church growth and church death:

To abbreviate a long and painful story, I joined the line of unsuccessful pastors, both liberal and conservative, who were not able to grow the church on the terms its traditions laid down—and at the end of the road it faced dissolution. [...]

I was reminded of this by a letter from someone sorrowfully anticipating the dissolution of her own congregation—a more “natural” death than mine died, for hers is not mortally diseased as mine was.  I think it’s just exhausted.  As a former pastor of a dying church, I feel quite strongly that such congregations should be allowed to die—that they, just like human beings, when they see the signs of impending death, need to take reasonable steps to dissolve in an orderly and peaceful way.  None should be assumed to last forever, and it may also be assumed that if God wanted them to keep going, he could easily and quickly supply the necessary resources, just as he could give any of us, if he chose, a greatly extended life span.  But as a rule he does not—in fact, he endorses happenings that lead us to death.  He expects us, when we are able, to make our preparations, and die well.

Does that resonate with you?

The default Christian advice to those facing adversity—whether in your personal spiritual life or in your church’s life—is to buckle down, keep the faith, and faithfully plug away in the hope that God will reward your persistence in the end. But is there a time in a church’s life when its failure to overcome the obstacles arrayed against it should be taken as a sign that it’s time to close it down and move on with our lives?

A friend of mine who is the pastor at a small local church recently went through a long and intense experience debating this question with his church. The church had, through a series of largely unavoidable spots of bad luck, experienced a major drop in membership and was faced with the question of whether or not it was worth continuing on with a greatly diminished community. After much prayer and debate, they decided not to call it quits just yet—but reaching that conclusion wasn’t simple or easy.

What about you? Have you experienced a church shutdown, and if so, was it graceful and prayerful… or was it characterized by denial? How do you tell the difference between obstacles that the church can and should work to overcome, and signs that it’s time to close down the church?

Have you ever witnessed, or experienced firsthand, “church discipline” administered by your church community? If the point of church discipline is to correct, not just to punish, what elements must be present in the act of discipline to ensure that it’s not just punitive?

Here’s how Lifetime Guarantee Ministries approaches this question:

Although they may both feel the same, there’s a huge difference between punishment and discipline. A punisher is angry at the punishee and takes out his hostility on him. The result is either fear-motivated conformity to the punisher’s will or rebellion. A discipliner, on the other hand, is not angry. He metes out the discipline despite the fact that it hurts him to do so. The one who is disciplined is motivated to change because of his love for the one who disciplines. Although both the punishee and the disciplinee may receive “three licks with the paddle,” the result will be vastly different.

Nowhere after the cross does the Greek text support the idea of God’s punishing new creations in Christ. The word is chasten, or discipline.

Read more at the Lifetime Guarantee website.

This is something I’ve thought and talked about quite a bit lately in the context of parenting. Our two-year-old daughter is entering a (temporary…. right?!?) phase in which her behavior is sometimes less than angelic. Some form of discipline becomes necessary at points, but how does one administer discipline in such a way that it encourages correction of behavior, rather than simple punishment for behavior? It gets especially tricky when the act of discipline—say, mandatory “quiet time”—looks the same whether it’s administered in love or anger.

All parents have wrestled with this question at some point. But this is also an important issue in the church, where believers are called to correct brothers and sisters who have strayed. Sometimes this correction takes the form of discipline (removal from a leadership position or even temporary removal from community worship) that might be seen as a punishment.

What acts of church discipline have you witnessed or experienced? What was present in the discipline that communicated love rather than anger?

What do you think?

Have you ever seen an abandoned church building?

At WebUrbanist, there’s a fascinating series of photos of abandoned church buildings, in varying states of decay and ranging from the strangely beautiful to the downright depressing. Here’s a sample:

I recently took a road trip through the American midwest and saw several abandoned-looking churches (although none as photogenic as these). I don’t believe that church buildings, simple or ornate, have any special quality of “holiness,” and so seeing these images isn’t a spiritual shock.

But they do raise questions, some of them a bit sad: what happened to the people who once worshipped here? Are they happily worshiping at another church today? What caused them to leave the church—was it theological disagreement, a slow decline in membership, collapse of the local economy? What was it like to worship in these churches for the last time?

Jeff Berryman has some poignant thoughts on these images:

Two hundred years from now, or four hundred—and I know it’s not the same for a thousand reasons—but imagine someone wandering through the ruins of the place where you worship, if you do.  What, they will wonder, went on here?  What happened?  How and why did such beauty get lost?

And of course, people are churches, many abandoned and worn down, the images of these abandoned rooms images of many spirits and souls.

What about you? Do you pass churches like these in your own town? How do these images make you feel?

The idea of a common cup during communion is a bit freaky to me. All those germs from all those mouths are a bit unsettling, but after reading Swine Flu and the Common Cup over at the Gospel Coalition blog, I’m beginning to think there’s something beautiful that happens when we indiscriminately share the cup.

Here’s an excerpt:

Often I’ll preach in churches about the Lord’s Supper and will call on congregations to go back to using a common loaf and a common cup. I’ll challenge the churches to recover the sign of bread being torn, not daintily picked up in pre-fabricated bits. I’ll call the congregations to drink the wine, together, passing along a common cup.

I’m not offended by people disagreeing with me on this. I’m just stunned by the reason they most often give for dismissing this ancient Christian practice: germs.

The common cup is, well, gross to many Christians because they don’t like the idea of drinking after strangers. That’s just the point. You’re not drinking after strangers. You’re drinking after your own flesh-and blood, your family. And the offense is precisely the issue. You’re recognizing Christ Jesus, discerning his Body, in the “flesh” of his Body the church around you. If drinking after your brothers is “disgusting,” then how much more eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood. That was disgusting to an assembly a while back as well.

Now, I’m not calling on churches to pick up the common cup and the common loaf in the middle of a swine flu pandemic. That wouldn’t be prudent. But maybe now’s the time to start thinking about how our hyper-hygienic American culture might be leading us toward cleanliness and away from Christ.

I have been at services where we’ve literally torn from a loaf of bread before passing it. It adds a much more communal atmosphere to the ritual and I think gets closer to what Jesus and the disciples first experienced.

What about you? Does your church use a common cup?

How can the church help “emerging adults” stay rooted to the faith?

The phenomenon of “emerging adulthood” (sometimes less flatteringly termed “delayed adulthood”) has gotten a fair amount of attention from Christian writers lately. It’s a term used to describe a life phenomenon unique to modern, Western society: the tendency for young people to put off engaging in the activities traditionally associated with adulthood—marriage, stable career, family. And church involvement.

Christianity Today has an interesting interview with sociologist Christian Smith on the implications of “emerging adulthood” on the church. Here’s how Smith describes the effects of this phenomenon on young adults’ spiritual lives:

Most of what happens in emerging adulthood works against serious faith commitments and putting down roots in congregations. Most emerging adults are disconnected from religious institutions and practices. Geographic mobility, social mobility, wanting to have options, thinking this is the time to be crazy and free in ways most religious traditions would frown upon, wanting an identity different from the family of origin—all of these factors reduce serious faith commitments.

When reading about the “delayed adulthood” phenomenon—see also an essay by Al Mohler on the topic—I typically find myself reacting with some defensiveness and irritation. As an adult whose twentysomething years somewhat resemble the “delayed adult” pattern (I married late, had kids much later, played a lot of video games, didn’t buy a house until my mid-thirties, etc.), it’s hard not to feel a certain trace of unintended condescension from Christians lamenting the lack of “maturity” in young adults’ lives. Waiting a few extra years before marrying, or taking extra time to settle into the right career, is not necessarily a sign of immaturity.

But the spiritual drifting-away common to many people during this phase is a problem, and one that the church will simply have to grapple with if it doesn’t want to lose all contact with young adults. During my “emerging adult” phase, I attended church regularly—and sometimes found myself the only young adult in the entire congregation. The problem is real.

Do you see the “delayed adulthood” in your church community? Has your church community taken steps to address it?

Do you think the Church is as unhealthy as people say it is? There seems to be an increasing number of books and blog posts devoted to the failings of the Church. A recent Out of Ur post cites statistics that say that 70-80% of youth are leaving the church by the age of 22. If it was half that number, I’d still think it was an extremely high percentage.

In his most recent blog post, Dale Fincher reflects on negative statistics like those and asks some fantastic follow-up questions. He wonders if there’s something intrinsic to today’s church that repels so many people who follow Jesus.

Here’s a few paragraphs from his post:

We’ve all witnessed the onslaught of recent publishing. We’ve read the articles that speak to so many people leaving church. We’ve seen the books by people disillusioned with church. We’re heard the statistics decrying that most students won’t even attend church by the time they are out of college. Many leaders are fretting over the dropped attendance as an indication of the spiritual maturity of the Christian population.

What exactly is going on here? Why are people discouraged with church? What is church that it isn’t meeting people’s needs? What is it about church that seems to be missing the point?

I’ll extend the same question to you: is there something identifiably wrong with the Church that’s putting off Christians (and non-Christians)? Or is it all just a lot of people complaining about a problem that’s always existed, or doesn’t exist?

Earlier this month, Out of Ur hosted an interesting conversation about the advantages and drawbacks of “internet campuses” for churches. (When you read the post, be sure to check out the excellent discussion in the comments as well.) But what really caught my attention this week was Bob Hyatt’s post arguing that there is no such thing as a virtual church.

Hyatt’s point is a compelling one, and puts words to the vague unease that many Christians (even the most tech-savvy ones!) have about the role of online churches and worship communities. Hyatt’s argument is that while an online church community can reproduce many of the things that define a true church, they simply cannot replicate the low-key but critical face-to-face interaction from which real, everyday Christian ministry springs.

At an online church, Hyatt argues, you’ll never hear Bob Churchgoer gripe about his difficult work week, or Jane Choirmember recount her ongoing struggle with migraines. And without those little interactions, we’d miss out on countless small opportunities to serve others and meet their needs (maybe inviting Bob out for coffee to relax, or volunteering to watch Jane’s kid next time a migraine knocks her out of commission.)

I almost agree with Hyatt… almost.

At this point in my life, online church isn’t for me, for many of the reasons Hyatt describes. I think Hyatt would be correct if he were arguing that few or no online churches active right now can replicate the intimate fellowship that happens in a face-to-face church, with all the Christian encouragement and ministry that spring out of such things.

But I’m not comfortable saying that online church can never meet those needs. I don’t know about you, but I’ve encountered plenty of online forums—not even Christian or church-related ones–where people share the same everyday gripes, praises, and pleas that they would in a face-to-face environment. This might be an indictment of my poor socialization at church, but I actually learn as much about prayer needs and praise reports through Facebook as I do from the post-service cookies-and-coffee break where most congregational chatting takes place.

There are many things an online community would have to do to (some of them quite difficult) to create an environment of authentic fellowship, but I don’t see any reason why it’s impossible. I can think of several reasons why it could actually be a good idea—for one thing, you can’t have been on the internet at any point in the last ten years and failed to notice that people tend to open up online about their ideas, opinions, and problems in ways that they might rarely do face-to-face.

So while I sympathize with much of Hyatt’s concerns, I’m a little unsure whence comes his insistence that virtual church is a complete spiritual dead-end. A follow-up post is promised, so I’ll be watching Out of Ur to see where he leads the conversation. What do you think? Have you experienced genuine church worship and fellowship online?

[image from flickr user shadysidelantern]

For Pastor Chandan, the sentence “if you build it they will come” ended with the phrase “and tear it down.”

His calling was relatively simple: build a church in the tea fields of Sri Lanka to serve the people there. But the reaction he got was rather unexpected. A gang of anti-Christian extremists organized and destroyed his church, damaged his home and even physically attacked him. According to a Gospel for Asia report, the church building was destroyed five times.

But what makes this story really interesting is that some of the same people who antagonized Chandan and his ministry now worship at the church every Sunday.

Few things are as inspiring as a person who overcomes trials and obstacles to do what they know is right. We all know that accomplishing great things often means living through significant pain and tribulation, but the grinding reality of what this missionary endured is still sobering. Stories like his make even the most arduous church-planting experiences here in the West seem simple by comparison.

At the Gospel for Asia site, you can see a slideshow of pictures of Chandan and his church, as well as donate to their cause.

How would you go about planting a church where there are no churches and are no Christians?

For many Christians living in the Western world, this situation is almost inconceivable: we’re surrounded by churches on all sides. Even in the least churched areas of the country, there are still a few scattered across the landscape.

A recent Lausanne pulse article by Younoussa Djao details some of the philosophy that goes into planting new churches in new places. He identifies seven tenants that one can use as a guide for understanding where and how to plant a church:

I. Go Where Jesus Is about to Go
II. Make Sure to Pray!
III. Look for the Person of Peace (from Luke 10:5-8)
IV. Either Do Your Ministry through the Person of Peace or Leave
V. Respond to the Needs: Compassion Ministries
VI. Give the Word of God by Doing Discovery Bible Studies
VII. Start Churches that Multiply

Out of those seven ideas, the fourth is the most interesting to me and almost seems counterintiutive. Here are Djao’s comments:

When a person of peace is not found in a community or an area, Jesus said to not do anything—to just leave. It means that it is not a place where Jesus is about to visit; God is not at work there; it is not God’s time for that place. Leave, pray more, and plan to come back later.

Sometimes a missionary will spend years in one place without seeing anyone interested in what he or she has to say or do. We spiritualize that by saying he or she is sowing and someone else will come and harvest.

The article is filled with insights and if you’re interested in global missions, it’s well worth your time to give it a read.