Churchless but not Faithless

I haven’t gone to church in over 2 years. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I was in a church building. COVID hit, and everything shut down, and when buildings opened up again, my little church hadn’t survived. We were renting a space in a strip mall, and it wasn’t worth paying rent when we weren’t using it. Then our pastor got a job at a different church in a different city, which was so good. He and his family need to eat and pay rent themselves, so none of us begrudge him that. So I was churchless. And my hobbity self who would like to snuggle down in a hole in the ground with some good food and drink didn’t mind all that much.

Most Sundays, my mum and I would livestream the service from my old home church in LA until they stopped livestreaming. And when it was safe enough to start meeting with other humans again, my family and close friend’s family formed a little home church where we meet outside or, if the weather is bad, inside masked, and study the Bible, pray together, and let the kids run wild together. Sometimes, we take communion together, and we did some advent together near the holidays. I also meet once a month with my women’s global prayer group, on our back patio or masked indoors.

So fellowship and Bible study and communal prayer and communion are happening – just not in the traditional sense. I’ve thought about going back to a church in person – like with a building and ordained pastors and formal small groups and all that – but the local churches where I live are not welcoming spaces for non-Republicans who are fed up with the current state of the white evangelical church and believe COVID was/is real. Even the churches of people of color tend to lean right here.

I must be honest, I don’t miss traditional church as much as I thought I would. My mum misses it a lot more than I do, which makes sense as she’s gone for over 70 years to my over 40. I’ve also never or rarely fit in to the church environment, so have always felt on the fringes anyway. I’ve also been struggling with the politics/ethics of the white evangelical church a lot longer. But it breaks my heart to see her grieve the loss of church. I’ve been there, I’ve felt the betrayal and pain, and I hate to see her going through it too.

I’m not deconstructing my faith – my faith is the same as it ever was. I love God and try to love people. I am a sinner, saved by the sacrificial death and resurrection of Jesus, who loved me and gave himself up for me. This is why I try to love others – because I am so loved in a way I do not deserve and I want others to experience that too. My faith is unshaken and permanent. But the churches I see around me do not reflect what the Bible says about God and humanity.

I am not naïve – I do not seek a “perfect” church. I know the church is for sinners, and therefore will never be perfect. I do, however, seek churches that are trying to love God and love others well. Which are willing to admit when they’re wrong, and do everything in their power to grow and change. Which are not willing to bow to the right wing worship found in these spaces, but which seek to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8).

I’m no longer willing to bend to religious spaces which actively harm women and vulnerable minorities, which pull the “both sides are equally wrong” crap or go further and believe you have to be right wing to be a Christian, which prioritize the tastes of the more powerful or favored congregants over what is right, which pick and choose which sins to rebuke while holding tightly onto sins like greed, lust for power, and violence.

For me, the biggest struggle in this leaving of the traditional church is also leaving behind my calling as a Biblical Counselor. I never quite fit into that world well, and in fact got into many debates with my professors in my years of study. I also purposefully never turned in my completed NANC (now ACBC) exam to get certified by the Biblical Counseling big wigs because I could never 100% sign off on their statements of belief and didn’t want my name to be associated with them. Still, I paid tons of money (loans which I’m still paying off), gave a lot of my time and effort, to get my Master’s degree and be trained in that discipline. I also have 16 years of experience in Biblical Counseling. I’ve attended many conferences and classes over the years, continued in research and reading, and have given a huge amount of my adult life to that particular field of counseling. Giving that up is the hardest part.

I am a good counselor, sometimes I am even excellent. I am a good speaker and teacher, sometimes even excellent. I am a good writer, sometimes even excellent. And giving up that call and gift and skill is like giving up a huge part of who I am. I currently only have 3 counselees left, 2 paid and one pro-bono. And after them, I do not plan on taking any new counselees for the foreseeable future. The tradition in which I was taught and trained is so wrapped up in the white evangelical culture that I do not think it can be separated. And I do not have the time, energy, and money to go back to school and start over again to get trained in a different kind of counseling. So I must let it go. This breaks my heart the most.

I’m still working through a lot of this stuff, so things may change, but this is where I’m at right now. And, for those of you who know me well, this will not be a surprise. It’s actually been a very very long time coming. But I appreciate your love, support, prayer, encouragement, and listening ears these past few years as I’ve weighed these decisions. Feel free to message me if you have any questions about any of this, as I know I’m not the only one out there going through this.

The one thing I know for certain is that pursuing God and faith in Christ is still worth it, still beautiful and good and true, and that forming relationships with his children is still worth it. It just might look a little different for a lot of us.