WHY WE NEED TO OWN HOW THE CHURCH HAS HURT OTHERS

I met someone recently who had not attended Church service in more than 14 years. Yesterday was his first day back.

This is not unusual.

Nearly every week I meet men and women who tell me it’s their first time attending a church service in years. It is often an emotional conversation. As one person put it, “It’s the first time I’ve stared the Church, my abuser, in the face.” One woman said, “I’m returning, for the first time, to the scene of the crime.”

These conversations are moving, because those who have the courage to return often share with me about why they left in the first place. Some speak of spiritual abuse, others the constant shame and guilt and still others the overt judgment and condemnation leveled at them.

The worst part is many of them have not abandoned their faith or rejected God; just the opposite. Like the man who returned after 14 years said, “I’ve always loved the Lord deeply, and I have missed gathering with God’s people. It’s just that the pain has been so intense that the thought of returning is terrifying.”

It’s terrifying because the experience of many who’ve left the Church has caused them to become suicidal, depressed or, in the words of a gay man I met with not long ago, “… while I always loved God I kept asking him to let me die so I did not have to live with so much shame.”

It’s tempting, not to mention easy, to hear these stories and dismiss any part we might play and sidestep our responsibility. And the temptation seems too good to pass up for many of us. This is no surprise; it’s common for us to locate failure outside of ourselves when things go wrong.

When was the last time your computer locked up or a program wouldn’t work? My bet is your first instinct was not, “Hmmm, I must have done something wrong.” Most of us immediately assume the problem lies with the computer and not with us. We are slow to consider user error. It’s the same with talk-to-text on our phones, isn’t it?

My phone never gets all my spoken words correct. My response, nearly every time, is to blame the lousy, over-priced technology. My assumption is there is no way it is my fault. We do the same thing with those who leave the Church because they have been wounded.

I heard one pastor say, “Those who abandon the Church claiming they have been hurt are using that as a convenient excuse to leave.” His statement was met with several “amen’s” and head-nods of approval. As one who left the Church for a time due to deep wounds, I can’t think of a more callous thing for a pastor to say or a colder response than “amen.”

The dismissive attitude of the pastor and his congregation is much like my attitude toward my phone. It foists blame on those who have been wounded and spurns any and all responsibility for how the Church has hurt so many. It’s a stubborn refusal to consider user error.

I’ve heard many say, “You’re always bound to be disappointed if you keep your eyes on people because they are imperfect. That’s why you’re supposed to keep your eyes fixed on God.”

Can we just be honest and say that’s crap?

It’s a refusal to acknowledge the people of God are to be a picture of Jesus in this world. And when the Church is the very reason many want nothing to do with the Church we must stop avoiding the reality that the Church is perfectly tailored to get the results it’s getting.

Perhaps the best thing we can do is confess our part in the massive amounts of pain the Church has caused. It’s not telling people, “Well, I am not that kind of Christian.” That doesn’t work. Those who are not a part of the Church do not make that distinction, and neither can we. We are all a part of this massive dysfunctional family called the Church – and we need to own that.

We must begin with the humble courage to apologize for how our brothers and sisters have treated them, and the ways in which we have been a part of their poor treatment. It’s not trying to explain away their experience, but possessing a willingness to listen and empathize – remembering few listen if they believe they will not be heard.

As we listen it’s having the courage to ask, “Does the way we live out our faith bear good fruit in our world?” Jesus said, “… every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit” (Matthew 7:17-18, ©NIV). If the fruit of our lives causes others to be laden with shame, fear, suicidal thoughts and depression – then we can safely assume that comes from a bad tree. And, as Jesus concludes it should be “thrown into the fire” (Matthew 7:19, ©NIV).

And what would a good tree look like? I suspect it would resemble the heart of Jesus who willingly laid down his life for all of us. Rather than excusing ourselves as part of the problem, what if we first chose the expensive path of sacrifice for the sake of others? What if rather than insisting that it’s loving to point out the sin of others, we understood love always allows violence to fall on itself first? In other words, rather than rushing to judgment we would rush to sacrifice.

If we lived this way I imagine there would be even more stories of men and women who chose to attend a church service for the first time in years. Because, maybe for the first time, they will have experienced the good fruit that comes from the heart of God put on display in the life Jesus.