Separation of Church and Church
“A marker of healing from religious trauma is not simply the process of deconstructing one’s worldview and identity and rebuilding a new one; it is also the willingness to remain open to shifting and changing over the course of one’s life.” ― Laura E. Anderson
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Nearly a thousand years ago, in 1054, the Great Schism forever divided the Roman Catholic Church from the Eastern Orthodox Church. Language differences, papal authority, and theological beliefs undergirded the split, and the effects were both far-reaching and long-lasting.
Our own West Georgia community has recently undergone its own spiritual secession.
Within the last few years, several United Methodist Church congregations have severed ties and gone their own way, embracing the traditional and conservative theology of the newly-founded Global Methodist Church, hearkening back to Wesleyan principles.
Just over a week ago, Carrollton First United Methodist Church dropped the “United” moniker, and its congregation disaffiliated itself from the United Methodist organization because of a difference of opinion on, among other topics, LGBTQIA+ inclusionary issues.
As I read post after post on social media about the emotional toll the divide has taken on our community, I was less inclined to proclaim my own opinions on the matter and more willing to put a human face on a very public religious split.
Generations of congregants dating back to 1847 have shared communion, confirmation, and Christmas in that church. And while the change translates into new beginnings for many, it also equates to an ending.
Religious trauma is real and debilitating. Severing ties with a congregation for any reason is riddled with vulnerability and grief. “Church hurt” leaves behind many of the same effects as we find in victims of abuse. We find ourselves battling fear, doubt, anxiety, and depression. We’ve been let down and forgiveness may be hard to find. It’s a spiritual divorce of sorts, and the emotional scars are slow to heal.
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Not too long ago, my husband David and I made the agonizing decision to leave our church. Neither one of us talks about it much, but our exit exacted a painful toll on us. We felt the loss as acutely as the passing of a loved one. We felt ostracized for a time, and we were unprepared to deal with the fallout of our exodus. Unchurched for several years, we literally passed through the phases of grief before we finally emerged, ready to form an emotional attachment to a fellowship of believers and join our faith with theirs.
Nearly a thousand years after the Great Schism, ideology divides us again, causing alienation, bitterness, and disappointment.
And both sides in this contemporary conflict feel that they are justified in their choice; the more liberal side feels rooted in love and acceptance, while the more conservative faction believes that their actions are firmly established in Scripture, focused on saving souls.
Who, then, can condemn either side?
While any rupture within the church elicits feelings of profound sadness, a secession underscores the deeply personal nature of religious beliefs and how they intersect with broader societal trends. A 2021 Gallup poll revealed that church membership had dipped to its lowest point in over 80 years with only 47% of Americans saying they belonged to a religious institution.
It’s hard to focus on differences of doctrine when people are trending away from churches and organized religion.
It’s also hard to focus on theological distinctions when we can’t get the basics right: Love God. Love each other. Love ourselves.
Maybe this distressing time can provide our community with an opportunity for reflection and understanding, a chance to put our shared humanity in the forefront of all we do instead of focusing on the minutiae that divides us.
