Breaking Up (with a church) is Hard to Do
Revisiting A Former Church Community
Recently, my husband and I revisited a church that we used to call home.
I fully expected some awkwardness, but I was surprised at how painful the experience was for me.
You have to understand the context of our past involvement to fully appreciate the revisit. So, I will start by going back a bit…
My husband has been introduced in my blogs before. His name is Jeff. For privacy’s sake, I won’t share any other names here, but Jeff is contractually obligated (by marriage) to stick around even if I name drop him on the Internet.
Anyway, Jeff’s best friend in high school was known for inviting buddies over on Saturday night for game nights, only to then require them along to attend church on Sunday morning. It was his mode of evangelism.
My husband’s life was greatly impacted by this best friend and the church community that he began to be a part of. This church congregation became a large part of my husband’s history and heart.
For clarity, I will call this church the Rhema-affiliated church. Yes, I name dropped Rhema, but that’s a whole global organization, not a person. It’s okay!
After high school, Jeff (who I did not know at the time) was married (obviously, not to me- shocking!) and began attending another church regularly with his first wife. That marriage ended after a few years, when the wife’s infidelity came to light.
The Rhema-affiliated church welcomed him back and helped him get on his metaphorical feet again, putting a painful chapter of life behind him.
Jeff was encouraged to go to ministry school, as a way to focus on his personal and spiritual growth. The Rhema-affiliated church’s pastor encouraged him that it was the will of God for him to go to Kenneth Hagin’s Rhema Bible Training College in Oklahoma. Wanting a fresh start and feeling the calling to be genuine, Jeff applied and was accepted.
Around the time that Jeff was gearing up to travel from Oregon to Oklahoma, he and I were introduced. A mutual friend felt that the Lord had shown them that we were potentially meant to be together. We struck up a friendship online that summer.
Jeff and I met for the first time in person at his Rhema-affiliated church, the weekend of his departure to Oklahoma. The church was hosting a Sunday morning service that doubled as a send-off for Jeff and a couple of others who were leaving that same week for various exploits. One was heading to the mission field, and another was heading to Texas to attend Christ for the Nations Institute (CFNI).
I remember being at the church for the first time. It was exciting and a little scary. I was what the Charismatic folks like to call “on fire for God” at that time in my life. I had a lot of zeal and not a lot of wisdom. I was chasing signs, thinking that I was receiving messages about my personal life from God in every way imaginable.
At this point in my life, I was praying for a boyfriend that was husband material. Going to Jeff’s church was a good way for me to get a feel for his theological leanings to test our compatibility. I was pleased to find that the church was similar in style to the place I had made my church home, a few towns over.
I was attending a nondenominational, Charismatic church that had associations with the mega-church Bethel. I will refer to them as the Bethel-affiliated church later, to keep the theme and clarity as we move on.
I judged that the Rhema-affiliated church seemed less emotional in their expression of worship, but just as Charismatic in their theology. I found the preacher had a familiar way of weaving a sermon using lines taken out of Scripture, anecdotes, and personal revelation that I was very much accustomed to.
The short version of the love story portion of our story goes that I continued to communicate with Jeff while he went off to Oklahoma. We built a friendship over the course of his first school year & we began dating long-distance at the start of summer break. And after his 2nd year at Rhema, he moved back to our home state of Oregon and asked me to marry him.
While engaged, I began attending the Rhema-affiliated church with Jeff. I left my church, cordially, thanking the pastors for their encouragement & friendship.
Thinking back, it had been difficult for me to acclimate to the Rhema-affiliated church, as it was very much a family church. There were a lot of family ties and there was a rich history between the congregants. It felt like moving to a small town your senior year of high school and trying to make friends with all of the kids who have known each other since they were in diapers. I was still trying to make connections, but it wasn’t coming very easily for me.
Geography is somewhat important in the story, so I will point out a quick fact. The Rhema-affiliated church and Jeff’s hometown were roughly an hour’s drive in distance from the Bethel-affiliated church and my hometown.
I started a life of commuting to work, commuting to church, and commuting to see my fiancé. I figured we were destined to get our first home together in his neck of the woods & that we would attend his home church. I was fine with this, as I wasn’t all that rooted at the Bethel-affiliated church. I had only been attending there for a year, and being the introvert I am, I didn’t have any relationships there aside from the ministry staff who made a point to know my name, remember my face, and add me as a friend on social media.
Life doesn’t always go according to plan. My fiancé ended up renting a house in my hometown. I would move in with him after the wedding.
During our year long engagement, there was a period of time when the Rhema-affiliated church couldn’t host Sunday mornings in their building. Sunday services were put on hold (before the days of widespread online services). I suggested that we attend the Bethel-affiliated church on Sundays for a while, and Jeff was skeptical that he would like it. However, it turned out to be a place where he felt comfortable, and everyone was very friendly.
The first Sunday that we walked in, the lead pastor approached us and introduced himself. He recognized Jeff from my social media and began speaking to him about Rhema Bible Training College. This interaction made a big impression on Jeff. We were also approached by several couples who wanted to make our acquaintance.
It was fun going back to the Bethel-affiliated church where I had made no connections as a single person. Having an extroverted man on my arm really helped my social status. People were talking with me now!
When it came time for the wedding, we had a variety of church representation: Our Rhema- affiliated church pastor officiated the ceremony, which was held at the Baptist church near my hometown. It should be noted that the Baptist church’s pastor did a beautiful job playing piano during the service for us! We had our reception party in the field behind the Assembly of God Church (my previous home church of 7 years). The pastor from the Bethel-affiliated church also attended the wedding with his wife, sitting in the crowd and beaming at us with smiles that I can still see in my mind’s eye.
We started discussing making a switch from the Rhema-affiliated church to the Bethel-affiliated church after the wedding. We actually considered switching to the Baptist church as well, but that conversation was brief. We were too Charismatic to seriously consider that switch.
Why were we considering the switch? Logically, a church community in our own neighborhood felt like a wise choice. Socially, we felt we were welcomed and involved in the community at the Bethel-affiliated church right away. Additionally, Jeff was sensitive to the fact that I felt like an outsider at the Rhema-affiliated church, and he talked about how it would be nice to have a fresh start someplace where we could build relationships together from square one.
The day came when we decided to tell the Rhema-affiliated pastor that we felt called to be at a closer-to-home congregation. My husband spoke with the pastor about this, and was met with some obvious disdain.
It was said that “They’re not Rhema.” It was also said that my husband changed careers & churches too often, “like he was changing his clothes”.
We also heard later, through the church gossip grapevine, that it was said we had left to chase after some kind of title or position that was supposedly offered to us at the Baptist church. Around the time of our wedding, the idea was volleyed to us that we might be able to help them grown their Youth Ministry, if we had the desire to do so. However, the consideration into this was short-lived. As I said before, we were too deep into Charismatic theology to consider attending, let along ministering, at a Baptist church. Besides, we didn’t go to the Baptist church; we went to the Bethel-affiliated church.
Leaving was somewhat jarring. It wasn’t in our hearts to insult or abandon the Rhema-affiliated congregation. We had wanted to attend Bible studies midweek or other occasions as we could, not completely break up. Jeff wanted to keep his friendships in tact, and I wanted to keep building those friendships for myself as well.
We felt as if we were no longer welcome at all. In addition to the Rhema-affiliated pastor’s message to Jeff about changing his churches like he changes clothes, we also noticed things that cemented our feelings of no longer being welcomed in that church community.
One telling thing was the immediate un-friend/ un-follow on social media of myself and my husband by a prominent leader in the church.
A social media blow we can get over. It’s almost comical, it’s so cliche. The really painful part was just not being invited to several weddings. There was a large group of 20-somethings in that congregation who were all getting married around the same time. All of them attended our wedding, and most of them were also there to witness and celebrate when our proposal occurred.
A particular couple was set to be married soon after we left the church, and I was invited to the bridal shower. I had RSVP’ed and was excited to keep building friendship with this person. However, around a week before the bridal shower, I was at another friend’s home and saw the wedding invitation posted on their fridge. It dawned on me that I was clearly invited to the bridal shower before it was decided that I would be excluded from the wedding festivities. There was no wedding invite posted onthe fridge at my home.
Needless to say, I revoked my RSVP, making up some excuse for my absence, and moved on from the hope of continuing that friendship.
Later, Jeff would be told by yet another friend who had gotten married around the same time that they too didn’t invite us to their wedding, because they felt it would be too awkward.
There was a friend who did invite us to their wedding around a year or two later. We saw all of the old faces, and everyone was cordial, if not friendly. Though, there were a couple of other folks in attendance who had also left the church after us, and they felt unfriendly feelings were present (I admit, I’ve never been one to read people incredibly accurately; that’s my husband’s department).
Fast forward to this year. It’s been nearly 8 years since we had our last Sunday at the Rhema-affiliated church. But, a very precious person to my husband passed away who was part of the congregation, and Jeff wanted to pay his respects.
We attended, and at first it seemed fine. We found a few friendly faces and seated ourselves with them on a pew in the back. The service was that mix of somber and hopeful that often trademarks an old saint’s memorial service.
After the service, we made our rounds to say hello to people. I was set at ease by a few friendly faces, but my overall the feeling was one of dread. I began to remember how out of place I felt when we attended and all of the rejection from when we left.
It took all of my resilience to stay beside my friendly, extroverted husband and say hello to people. I thought of walking out and leaving him alone. I thought of quietly turning to him and demanding that he leave with me. But, ultimately, knowing that these people meant so much to him, I stayed for the hellos.
As we made our way out of the building, we faced the final gauntlet. The pastor stood by the exit. My husband gave him a smile and a hello. I echoed the pleasantry.
As we made our way to the door, the pastor said: “Remember, I’ll always be a part of your life. I signed your marriage certificate!”
I laughed and said: “That is true!”
I have a dry sense of humor, and I understand the concept of making a joke that makes other people feel uncomfortable when you don’t really mean it that way. I fear I’ve done that myself plenty of times. So, in the moment, I took it for an awkward joke.
My husband, the sweet, loving man that he is, responded with sincerity, saying: “You’re always a part of our lives. You’re family.”
After this exchange, we left.
In the car, we did what all couples do after a social event, and we had a verbal debrief session.
I expressed my discomfort and how I wished it would have been easier for me to engage with people. I felt like I had a hard time masking my discomfort, and I feared that I had made others uncomfortable who were genuinely being kind to us.
We also made note of those who took time to say hello and those who averted their eyes from our direction, as if they didn’t recognize us at all.
I then found myself doing something that a lot of females can probably relate to. I cried inconsolable, stress-induced tears. And I explained to my husband that I was okay. I just needed to cry for a moment.
There isn’t much more story to tell. Maybe this is better suited for a journal entry than a blog post. However, I know that human experience is helpful when it’s shared. It helps us feel less alone when we know others deal with similar situations, and I know it’s not uncommon for this level of awkwardness and felt rejection to come out of leaving church community.
Breaking up with a church is hard to do.
