When Church Community Explodes: A story of grief and loss.
by Christine L.
It’s been 2.5 years. Two and a half years since one of the biggest “explosions” of our life as a family. It’s hard to even name the hurt: hard to narrow down a multitude of individual events. Hard because I take seriously the Biblical admonition to examine “the log in my own eye” and because I know there are things in the whole mess that I/we could have handled better or done differently. And hard because I don’t want my story to be a source of scandal for others.
But in considering what objectively occurred and was most painful, there was intentional manipulation and isolation from others in order to develop and control a narrative. “Quiet” intimidation in person and in emails kept us questioning ourselves, wondering if we were crazy, or if, in fact, we WERE the problem. Pointed sermons and verbal announcements, while not naming names, CLEARLY were directed at my husband and myself and were humiliating. Even our children could detect when messages were for us. And, perhaps most of all, there was gaslighting: “you misunderstood”, “I would never do that”, “that didn’t happen”. How does one even begin to dialogue with someone who gaslights? How does one make progress when that person is the priest and, to most in the parish, exhibits a charming and pastoral persona?
After months of trying to hold brokenness together, meetings to try to find a path forward, asking for change, praying….with no real alternative, we walked away from our parish of 8 years. We had moved from another city specifically for employment and ministry at this church and it had become a central part of our lives. Thus began a period of great disorientation, feeling lost, depressed, and so very isolated from the community that had become our family. I clung to prayer and regular devotional time. I developed a rather regimented personal “schedule” to keep myself moving and not collapsing into hopelessness. We kept close contact with the friends who left the parish at the same time that we did. We created “normalcy” for our kids, where we could. I felt numb, humiliated, and utterly crushed.
Grief? There’s been a ton… and where to begin? Perhaps identifying the grief and consequences of what happened will be an impetus to move forward, and to further name what needs to heal.
Employment: My husband and I were two of four founders of the parish school that we worked to build so our children (who had some learning and social challenges) would have a safe, small Catholic community to grow, find friendship, study, and worship with other like-minded children. In the instant when we hit “send” on our letters of resignation, we went from financial stability to complete unemployment and a prayer that God would provide.
School: The blood, sweat and tears of building the school was for the sake of our children, but in the process, we found deep friendships, a passion for teaching children about Jesus and His Church, and an environment where our kids, despite their struggles, could belong and experience success. Gone overnight. We attempted to homeschool to finish their schooling, but it felt so lacking compared to the community of learners and staff we had been part of.
Community: My husband and I have been highly involved in the Church in paid and volunteer positions our entire lives. It was part of what drew me to him when we met. As husband and wife, we loved contributing to what we believed to be an increasingly fruitful ministry to families and children. While intense and exhausting, it was vocationally satisfying, especially for my husband. When we left, apart from a very few who knew the behind-the-scenes, we experienced a complete silence from those in our church whom we had grown to love like family. The weekly potlucks and after church social times? Gone. Being invited to other kids’ birthday parties and events? Nope. A text or email to see if we were doing okay? Not a word. The silence and void was absolutely deafening.
Reputation: This was a deep loss for me particularly (a wound I’ve been working on my whole life. Perhaps good growth that God means to bring out of this time?). Especially during the initial weeks and months after we left, we heard back about what various people were saying, “what they really thought”, and how our departure had been announced to the parish. Because the pastor already had an unfiltered platform in his sermons and announcements (and- wow!- did he use it with flair, theatrics, tears, and occasionally as a therapist’s couch), the narrative was precisely what he wished it to be. I felt such a deep sense of shame. Even after finding another parish in which to worship, I still leave the building immediately afterwards. I still feel paralyzing judgment even in the larger Christian community. People talk. People know people.
Family Unity: Our family served at church TOGETHER. In addition to being the parish school principal, our whole family sang in the choir. Once or twice a week, we joined together to creatively serve the Lord through choir practices and worship. We often served at events and church/school fundraisers as a family. It was an integral part of our family identity. In an instant, it seemed less clear what we could do together (and do well). A new family charism would be needed: serving together at parish, parish school and through music were some of the central glue that kept us united and seeking Jesus. What would we do together NOW? And, with shame still tightly at my heels, I’m not yet at a place where I want to put myself out there yet to serve or explore the possibilities. I’m just too tired and spent.
This is only the tip of the iceberg of loss for our family. TRULY- it’s been the biggest loss I’ve experienced in my 50+ years of life. Our parish was a mainstay in our social lives, our children’s school, our employment and vocational fulfillment, a source of family unity and creativity. But, chiefly, had it not been for the pastor and the spiritual abuse, it was also where we experienced so much joy, so much Christian fruit, so much…. Jesus. Until it wasn’t.
I’m still reeling. But has God been faithful? Absolutely!
Within a week of leaving our parish school positions, I was able to find full-time work in my health profession. We’ve been provided for financially and this has removed a lot of the stress.
The children have been able to finish up their schooling and our one son is thriving at a Liberal Arts College. The children have not lost their faith on the other side of the crisis, and we are blessed that they continue to have their own relationship with the Lord, generally avoiding bitterness and skepticism towards the Church.
Unfortunately, the other founding family at the school also left our congregation at the same time that we did. And most other staff members. Yes- it was THAT kind of explosion. However, we have been able to maintain rich relationships with those people and are blessed that (most of the time) we are able to spur one another on in faith. Rather than being a group solely bonded by misery and commiseration, we continue to be spiritual friends that uplift one another.
We began attending another parish with phenomenal preaching and spiritual direction by the pastors. Our new church feels truly focussed on the Lord, and NOT on the personality of the pastor. So good for spiritual nourishment and healing our faith!
A restored reputation will be an ongoing area of healing, I think. Or perhaps this has just been a needed reminder that following Christ often means being despised and mocked, even by those that one cares for most. Sounds suspiciously like the life that Jesus led, so perhaps that’s an encouragement of sorts? I continue to pray about that.
And, finally, family unity continues to evolve and re-form. We work towards new routines, new interests, new ways of serving and growing as a family. We trust God will put those pieces into place, even if the pace is slower than we’d hoped.
I cling to the words in St. John’s Gospel: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
And that continues to be the Good News: Jesus has overcome the world, and He is bigger than any “explosion” or faith crisis I encounter. Praise be to God for His faithfulness!
About the Author:
Christine L. lives in Canada and is a wife and mother of 3. She is grateful for God’s provision and abiding love in all circumstances. Unfortunately, individuals still attending her old church have reported back to the parish priest on her social media activity and the whereabouts of her church attendance. Needless to say, she is still working on feeling safe, healing, and moving on and would appreciate your prayers.
Disclaimer:
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in guest blog posts are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the positions of the Religious Trauma Network. We recognize that each person’s healing journey is unique, personal, and courageous. The stories shared here belong solely to the contributors, and their experiences, perspectives, and advice may not apply to everyone. We encourage readers to honor their own paths and seek professional support as needed.