You may have heard the terms “nones” and “dones” in relation to church attendance. Nones, in this particular taxonomy, are people who have never had anything of significance to do with church and are not currently involved in church. Dones are people who have, in the past, been involved in church, but now are no longer participating.
I feel like in many ways I am a “done” even though I regularly preach at church, attend church, value the church, and hope for good things for the church in days and years ahead.
I am done with much of what counted as church. I am not angry about this. I don’t feel any bitterness. It is just that so very much of what church was seems superfluous to the reality of Christian faith to me. I think that gathering together is important, and I see the possibility of positive change ahead. Almost three years ago, from one Sunday to the next, I went from being a Senior Pastor with 25 years experience, to not being a pastor. I often remark to people who ask that I loved working in a church and don’t regret the time. At the same time there has not been one day or minute in which I have wished I was still a Senior Pastor in a church.
When the evangelical church speaks about “nones” and “dones” it is often in the context of how to “reach” people. As a recent study from the Templeton Foundation points out, though, nones and dones are very different. One of the key findings in the study is that it seems that you can leave church, but in many ways church does not leave you.
Here is a quote from an article discussing the study:
“Those who have abandoned their faith carry a residue that permeates their psyche, and causes them to resemble, in many ways, those who continue to follow a religious tradition. The team found evidence for this ‘religious residue’ in everything from people’s moral attitudes to consumer behaviour to personal values. On a whole, the ‘dones’ maintained a moral framework and pro-social behaviour that looked more devout than not.”
The quote above assumes not only leaving the church, but abandoning faith. What is presented is that even for people who do not claim Christian faith anymore, there is a residue of the worldview. Perhaps you can identify with this. I find it interesting, in this light, to consider what that residue might look like for people who have not abandoned faith, but who have for the most part, left the church. These might be people who have left one faith tradition, expression or denomination for another, or people who maintain faith as important, but have not connected with a church since leaving their previous church.
The sheer number of people who have left church, but hold on to faith, points out the need for theological renewal. Many of us know that we are called to believe something better, something hopeful and substantial. In this way, it is not an abandonment of Christian faith, but a desire for a wider, more hopeful way of belief.
A significant portion of my work as a pastor was helping people past fearful, even terrifying views of God and religion. If you were raised in a religious context in which you were told that you would burn forever if you did not “pray the prayer” then you might know that such things tend to stick with you. In fact, even if you move past such beliefs, they can linger and have an impact on how you see the world and on how you see yourself. I recall hearing from a number of people the sentiment that they find themselves weighed down by particular fear or concern about judgment or punishment, even though they don’t believe such things anymore. It is like they have to remind themselves that they are no longer constrained within a particular sub-cultural way of explaining reality.
I think of older couples who lived in a kind of terror for their adult children who had walked away from the church. It was clear that such terror came from an understanding that the parents had picked up, years before, that what awaited such profligate offspring was eternal damnation. I recall many times reminding such people that what mattered more than the decision of their child was the goodness of God. At these pastoral expressions they might be temporarily comforted, but the old fearful teaching would soon grab hold again. One older woman (her name was Eunice) seemed to come to life in hearing some of what I had to say in my early years as Senior Pastor. She told me that she found it so refreshing and hopeful, and it made sense to her in light of her faith in a good and loving God. I recall once, after a Good Friday service, that she told me how thankful she was that we celebrated Easter and Christmas as the church she attended growing up (a more strict version of Plymouth Brethrenism) considered Christmas and even Easter (even Easter focused on Lent, Holy Week, etc.) to be pagan. Eunice died many years ago. In her final days I would bring communion to her in the care home. During one visit she told me that as death approached, the old fearful way of believing that she had been taught kept assaulting her mind and spirit. She just could not seem to get past it. She told me that even though she knew better, the fear had a hold. Of course, I prayed for her, sought to comfort her, but the truth is that Eunice died somewhat in this state of fear.
One of the things that I find curious, in the work of articulating hopeful theology, is the consternation, even fear or anger, that people can feel over others who leave the church. In very rigid social structures leaving is explained often as pointing to a deficiency on the part of the one who does the leaving. In structures that are not as rigid there can still be a kind of perturbed response to the reality of people leaving church. To me this feels like the perturbed party feels that they are not being appreciated. It sometimes seems as if these people are upset at the rejection of a system that defines so much of their life.
Part of articulating hopeful theology should be to help people who are “done” with church to move on well. Maybe we’ll call it “Well Done”. We need more cases of being “well done”. Very many people that I know might actually be able to connect with a community of faith if they could articulate just what it is that they are determined to leave behind. Other people who would prefer to not believe anymore could actually be helped past a kind of cognitive constraint by being blessed to be truly free of some of what they experienced as damaging in their previous worldview.
If you believe that Jesus is the hope of the world, then people leaving church is not really that much of a threat. If you believe that Jesus is the hope of the world, then you should be able to let go of arbitrary strictures of a particular religious context without thinking that you are apostate.
Maybe being “done” is, for a lot of people, an important step of faith. Maybe being “done” opens up hopeful possibilities.
Why is the reality that people grow and change so often a threat to the church? Most people readily accept that they do not see things in many aspects of their lives in the same way that they used to. So why do we sometimes think that seeing church and faith differently is such a dangerous thing? And why is it assumed that the people who stayed are the ones who truly believe? I think that there is a hopeful Christian theology that can be of great help to people who are done with what they once believed, and can enliven people who see Christian faith as a gift, but are done with so much of what was present in their past religious life.
A prayer for those who have walked away from church, a prayer for those who maintain connection with church, but, in many ways, feel as if they might be “done”.
Dear God,
Help us to see past our human constructions. Help us to see that so often our religious structures prevent us from encountering your presence. I pray for those who have left church with no intent on returning. I pray for their freedom and blessing. I pray for those who are part of the church, but are somehow done with much of it. Grant them strength and joy and humour and patience. Help us to see a hopeful way of faith that is wide enough for people who believe and for people who do not believe. I’ve always carried this wonderful suspicion that you are good. I think that I get this from seeing the goodness of Jesus. He said that if we have seen him, then we have seen you. My suspicion that you are good has meant that I think your love is even more powerful than our decision or than our religion. Give us hope.
Oh, and I pray for those who remain and have never left. I see their humanity as well. So many of them are faithful and kind. I ask that they would know the security of your love. I’m grateful for those who have stayed as well.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.