Going, going, going, gone

 After 16 years, my church and I appear to have reached a parting of the ways. As the old saying goes, "It's not me, it's you."

It's a bittersweet thing, this parting of the ways. Because a church is a community built around a shared religious identity, it can be the foundation for deeply meaningful relationships; work of great psycho-emotional, spiritual and social labor; and a source of stability that anchors us amid difficult days. But it can also be deeply alienating, a source of heartache and frustration, and the cause of contention both internally and with others.

The split has its catalyst in the recent departure of our lead teaching and founding pastor. Tim and his wife came here about 17 years ago with a team of church planters. About two months ago, they announced they were leaving in order to be closer to their aging parents.

It caught us off-guard, as a church. There was no succession plan, and while a church can survive on its own momentum, that will only carry it so far. So the elders decided to form a transition team to keep the church going while it looks for a new pastor.

Good plan. Who's on the team?

Well, the elders appointed themselves, the worship leader, the children's ministry leader, the two hospitality leaders, and the two outreach leaders to the transition team. That's it, and that's the problem.
It's not the individuals chosen for the team, per se. I genuinely like and respect most of them.  It's how it was done, and what wasn't done at all.

The elders, who are not elected by the congregation but appointed by sitting elders to what apparently is a lifetime position, simply picked the transition team, and that was it. No congregational say in who handles the search, and not even an invitation to anyone who might be interested in being a part of the search to join the time.

That's it. A team that is essentially accountable to no one, consisting of three married couples and three other people.
To their credit, they're letting us know what they've decided to do and where things stand. And they "welcome input," which practically speaking means if you have an idea they'll politely listen to it, but if they don't see it themselves, they won't advocate for it, and it quickly will be forgotten.

But I'm patient and don't want to be unduly cynical, so I send in a list of questions I have about the process.

And wait for a response.

And wait.

While I'm waiting, I approach one of the elders and explain that I'm interested in being a a part of this effort. I point out that while I was on the school board I three times was part of the team that looked for a new director, and the third time I led the search myself. This is a school with an $8 million budget and over 50 employees. Hiring someone to do a search like this could cost a few thousand dollars, but I'd give my professional skills to the church for free.

And I delicately point out that it's a good idea for the search to solicit involvement from all the active stakeholders in the congregation: ministry team, elders, parents, youth.

I get told, no, they're not bringing anyone else in.

Then two weeks after I sent in my questions. I get told "I'm sorry you feel frustrated by the lack of response," but still no answers to half my questions.

So yeah, part of me is feeling the pain of rejection, because I wanted to have an active part in this search. I've been a part of this church for sixteen years, and have always lent a hand when asked. But when I've asked to help out in some bigger capacity -- lead a Bible study, be a part of church leadership, engage in mercy ministry or social justice projects, run a drama ministry, preach a Sunday service once in a while -- I never get a response, even though these are all things I've done in the past.

Not "no," just .... nothing. No reason, no explanation. Nothing.

Sixteen years I've been here, and nothing of myself that I value is worth anything to this church. Not even the part that generally believes a no is almost as easy to accept as yes, especially when someone takes the time to share a coherent reason, even if the reason is stupid.

I stuck around as long as I did because the previous pastor guy was a close, personal friend of mine, and as we were friends I knew he listened to me. I had his ear.

Now I've got nothing but "I'm sorry you're bothered by bothersome behavior" and "Sorry, we have no use for you. Go sit down and be happy while we make decisions for you."

That's too authoritarian for me.

I told my friend once while he was pastor, "The elders can appoint to run ministries or lead a Bible study whom they want. It's their choice, and I respect that, even if the answer makes no sense. And if I really don't like it, I know where the door is."

That I do.

And I'm walking through it.