All Our Eggs in One Basket

I drafted a LOT of blog posts and fragments last spring (in the wake of our open letter), to help me process all the junk at Bethlehem.  They now feel like a record of our grief journey, and I've been rereading them.  I'm sharing this one because it captures how spiritual abuse can really mess with someone's view of the church (which is one of many reasons why spiritual abuse is so pernicious).

A few caveats:  I realize this post conflates the Church Universal with any given particular church.  It doesn't distinguish between healthy churches and unhealthy churches.  It also doesn't distinguish between being all-in (with the various pros and cons that brings) with just showing up on a Sunday morning.  So there's a lot more that could be unpacked.  Lastly, I wrote this 16 months ago.  It was 4 months after our open letter, when the emotions and pain were starting to hit us full force.  Some things have changed a lot, and some things are still the same.

I wrote this post on 3/9/22:  "All Our Eggs in One Basket"

A few years ago I was driving, and it suddenly struck me, "we've put all our eggs in this church basket - I wonder if that's dangerous."  I remember specifically where I was (the roundabout on our way to the library), and I remember processing the question with Mickey later that evening.

I was thinking about how much time/energy/money we've put into the church.  At the time, I wasn't thinking about Bethlehem specifically, more the Church in general.  So it wasn't so much a question of "do I trust Bethlehem?" but rather "is this whole church thing really this valuable?"  I remember thinking, "I sure hope this is worth it."  I thought about all the money we've tithed to Bethlehem over the years.  All the money given to Bethlehem missionaries.  One night a week spent at small group, the entire time we've been married.  Many weekends spent at various seminars, small group leaders trainings, other trainings.  7 years of being in MOMS.  How most of our friends and network are from Bethlehem.

At the time I remember concluding, yes, it is.  I felt like the Bible teaches that Jesus values the church, which means our valuing it is good too.  Of all the things to sink my time and money into, church felt right.  I also concluded that God honors faithful obedience (e.g. ultimately that tithe money is given to him, not just a church).  I also thought we were learning transferable skills (e.g. learning how to lead a MOMS table or a small group ports into other areas of life).  And we want community (e.g. friends, affinity groups like MOMS) - why not do it at Bethlehem?  If I weren't at Bethlehem, I'd probably be in a similar MOMS-type group elsewhere.

So I concluded, yes, this is a good investment of time, energy, money, even if on principle it also seems dangerous to have all the eggs in one basket.  And I couldn't really think of anything else I'd want to value more.  What could be a better basket than God's church?

All that was before the turmoil at Bethlehem.  And now I'm revisiting the question.  How do I feel now?

In some ways, I still believe in the church.  I still feel like there's no better basket.  I still believe the Bible is true, I still believe all the promises from God about how he will build his church and is at work in the world growing and sanctifying his people.  I still believe almost all the same things.  

And yet, I now also feel other things:

• I feel deeply betrayed by Bethlehem. I didn't know it would hurt this much.
• I feel sad for the toll it's taken on my beloved husband.  I have never seen Mickey so hurt, so betrayed, so sad, so angry.  I miss my formerly easy-going, laid back husband.
• I'm dreading starting over at a new church.  For now our goal is to simply drag ourselves into service on a Sunday morning.  But I'm dreading the long, slow process of meeting people, slowly building trust, getting to know new pastors, laden with this baggage of betrayal and doubt and wondering what skeletons are in the closet of this new church.
• I still love and value God's people.  In a weird way, it's felt like leaving Bethlehem has been a community process.  Bethlehem friends helped us edit our open letter, and we reached out for counsel to multiple wise folks (both Bethlehem and former Bethlehem).  We've had so many sweet meetings with ex-Bethlehemers the past many months.  So many had gone before us.  And I treasure these connections (even if we're all scattering to different churches and won't see much of each other).
• I'm thankful for our dear small group, who have patiently listened to Mickey and me process these things, over and over and over again, this past year.  They don't even have to wonder what we'll share about each week, because they know what's coming.
• I do wince at the tithe money.  Grieving has been a slow process, and I remember a few months ago when I suddenly thought about all the tithe money.  For years I had felt like Bethlehem was this amazing mutual fund, so it was jarring to suddenly realize, "wait, my money was propping up this abusive system!"  And yet I also feel torn.

So is the church worth it?  I still think it is.  Who knows if I'll stay there, but that's where I'm at for now.  But now rather than picturing this cozy local church that's been home for 20 years, I feel like I believe this in theory.  I believe it because God says it's worth it.  And I believe it because I know lots of amazing, wonderful Christians.  But I have a lot more questions and baggage about how well this can actually get lived out, in a local building, with all the power systems that come with an institution.

"Where else can we go?  You have the words of eternal life."  I don't like the problems and systems and baggage and scars.  And yet I also can't picture leaving.