On Grieving the Loss of a Church
When you spend a significant part of your life within a particular Christian community, grieving the loss of that church is an overwhelming task. American Christians are not typically taught to grieve well. Before the loss even occurs, we fall back on platitudes and denial when confronted with the harm done to us by our churches. We are taught that the joy of the Lord is our strength. When we suffer abuse, we are admonished that forgiveness and reconciliation will cover an unrepentant heart. We are told when suffering comes that God meant it for our good. Too often, we fall back on these same platitudes when we begin grieving the loss of a church—even churches that have harmed us.
When we grieve the loss of a child, a spouse, or a parent, we are afforded some understanding from people around us. They show up on our front doorstep with hugs and sympathy casseroles. When we grieve the loss of a church, especially if it has been abusive, it is difficult for the people around us to understand the depth of our mourning. Pastor and professor Susan Dunlap uses the phrase “disenfranchised grief:” that is, grief that does not conform to cultural norms of mourning. Many times we leave behind our only community when we exit a church, and so we are left to parade our grief in the public square, seeking people who will grieve alongside us.
Author Sara Billups has coined the term “orphaned believers,” and that is an apt description for people who lose their church. While our leaving doesn’t usually involve a literal death, it means the death of who we thought we were, who we thought others were, and what we thought our future would hold.
We do not just lose our certainty in church leaders and theology; we lose our community, our family, and our identity. We are, in a word, orphans.
For many of us, leaving a church is both a response to trauma and a traumatic event itself. Sometimes our departure follows months, or even years, of panic attacks during worship services, sudden nausea that surfaces when we hear certain words or phrases, and the dark dread that we face every time we enter a church building.
For others, it’s a sudden catastrophe that leaves us bewildered and disoriented. Everything is suddenly turned upside down and the grief is so intense that it overwhelms us. We struggle to sleep, eat, and carry on with our lives. Many of the places we used to turn to for comfort are no longer available to us. Our calendar is a long, yawning aloneness.
If you are feeling shame, disillusionment or loss over leaving your church, you are not alone. Spiritual abuse and other types of abuse destroy lives. Abuse leaves a trail of broken souls in its wake. So here we are. Broken, grieving orphans.
Where do we go from here?
I don’t have fully-formed answers, but here are some suggestions:
Honor your grief. Make space for it. Don’t sweep it under the rug or minimize it. Do not mask the grief with a false forgiveness. If you are still numb from the trauma, allow your grief to surface in small, manageable ways. Do not rush to fill your calendar in an attempt to distract yourself from the grief. When the grief brings fatigue — and it will — allow yourself time to sleep a little more. If you feel shaky and cold, wrap yourself in a warm blanket.
God cares about your heart, not the outward actions you’ve been taught to associate with Christianity. Do you need to skip church for a while until you can work with a trauma therapist to heal? Perhaps.
If you left a high-control church, do not rush to fill the void left by your previous church. People who leave high-control groups are susceptible to similar organizations. Give yourself time to reflect on what you actually want and believe before jumping into a new church.
Don’t fear your anger. God isn’t afraid of it. He welcomes it. Anger is a legitimate response to people and events that mock God’s justice. Let your anger make you curious—question the why behind your rage. The process of forgiveness can only start after you have truthfully named the sin that was committed.
Consider creative alternatives if daily devotions, bible reading, or prayer trigger strong reactions, especially if scripture has been used to control or manipulate you. Perhaps choose an unfamiliar bible translation like The Message. Or if opening a physical bible is too much, consider an audio version. Or just take a break. As therapist Dan Allender points out, “sometimes just being able to say ‘I can’t read the bible right now’ may seem like rebellion, but it’s actually a faithful statement that ‘I know to some degree, it’s temporary, but today and maybe for the next six months I can’t’...but also an acknowledgment of ‘this isn’t where I want to be at some point.’”
If you are a parent and your children are old enough to notice what is going on, be honest with them. Let them see you hold your doubt and grief with honor. If they are old enough to know that your family has left a church, listen to their stories and validate their emotions. This is critical if your previous community has shunned you. Your children may be feeling deeply angry and traumatized, especially if they had no control over the decision to leave a church. Their feelings about their situation are real and should be honored, but you are not a bad parent for leaving. Their loss was caused by the abusive church, not because you responded as any good parent would by removing them from a dangerous situation.
Even if you left a church because of deep harm, you may struggle to name those reasons clearly. Consider reading books from other people who have experienced similar abuse. Learning from experts can help alleviate your disorientation and validate your decision. Many of the books on our resource list are available for free at your public library.
Find at least one person who will listen to your story of loss with empathy. That person might be online if you’ve been abandoned by your physical community. And that’s ok. We’ve gathered resources that include safe and healthy social media and online communities for you to explore.
I’m not going to reassure you that grief will eventually lead to gratitude. I can’t make that kind of prediction for someone else’s life. What I can say is this: You’re not alone. God grieves with you.
May you find peace, orphaned believer.
Abbi Nye is an archivist in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She attended CFC from 1986 to 2005.
