When Someone Leaves Your Church, Take Time to Listen to Them

In Spring 2021, I was at a playdate with a friend, and in the course of our conversation, she told me that she was leaving Bethlehem because bad things were happening.  I didn't respond well.  I didn't say, "Tell me more."  I didn't ask a single follow-up question.  Instead, I said, "Oh."  And I changed the subject.

In the weeks that followed, I pondered my response.  Usually when I talk with people, I ask a lot of questions.  A lot.  My husband regularly reminds me not to overwhelm people with too many questions; apparently when you do that, people feel interrogated.  On any other topic, I would have followed up.  And yet in this case, I didn't.  Why?

As best I can discern, I think I dimly sensed this unwritten rule that saying anything negative about a church, and by extension hearing anything negative about a church, is somehow sinful and wrong.  That it's not polite.  That maybe it's gossip.  And so instinctively, I pulled back.

But as I pondered it afterward, I realized my reaction was off-base.  First, she's my friend.  If she's sharing something, I want to care about it.  If she has concerns, I want to hear them.  If she's opening that door, I want to walk through it.  Second, this is my church too.  I should care about what's happening here.  If there's a problem, I want to know about it.  If there were a problem in any other aspect of my life (car having issues, charity I support mishandling funds, my kid told a lie, etc.), I would want to know about it, so I can take action.  Closing my eyes to the problem doesn't make it go away.

So I emailed my friend.  I apologized for not leaning in.  I told her that next time I see her, I'd love to hear more.  So we did just that.  And it was fruitful.  She shared her concerns.  She told me a lot of things I was completely unaware of.  I appreciated the chance to hear her story.  This was the first hint I received of any of the issues swirling at Bethlehem last year.

And a month later, when I was walking with another friend, she too told me she had concerns about Bethlehem.  And when she hesitated and asked, "Do you want me to share them?"  I said, "Yes please."  And that conversation was fruitful too.  

Since then, I've tried to follow up with people leaving Bethlehem.  Each quarterly strategy meeting, when I get the list of names of people leaving, I've tried to reach out to the people I know.  

Partly I ask people why they are leaving for their sake.  First, people can fall through the cracks at a big church.  Taking the time to notice their departure and follow up communicates care.  At a minimum, it says, "Someone noticed you left.  You are not invisible, you're missed."  For years I've thought, "It would feel so demoralizing to have your name on that list and not have a single person follow up."  Second, it gives them a chance to share concerns.  If their concerns are large enough to prompt them to leave, presumably they care deeply about them, and this gives them the chance to express that to fellow church members.  Third, for those who have been really wounded, it gives them a chance (if they are willing) to tell their story, which is one tiny part of the healing process.

I also ask why people are leaving for my sake.  Because if they have concerns about my church, I want to know about them.  Sharing heartfelt concerns is not gossip.  Church is family, and if one part of the body suffers, then we all suffer together and the body is less healthy.  Sharing concerns is an opportunity to identify problems and collectively work toward healthy changes.  If there's a problem, I want to know.  It reminds me of that scene in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader where Edmund says, "If there is a wasp in the room I like to be able to see it.”  

So for the sake of your friend, for the sake of the health of your church, for the sake of being a good church member, take time to listen to the people who are leaving your church.