"burned out on church"

for more than 25 years as an ordained pastor or priest, i have noticed something that i once thought was odd, but now understand to be normal. in any given worship gathering in any given congregation, there may be someone in the pew who isn't really sure he or she wants to be there. they sit alone, trying to be anonymous. if they had a cloak of invisibility they would certainly use it. they may feel shattered, burned out, or beaten up. they may be merely exhausted. they may feel dead. they may feel nothing at all. they definitely feel out of place, and some wonder whether they will ever recover. many, but not all of them, are ordained.

i've seen them sitting in the pew in congregations where i have presided, and have offered them sanctuary. "i understand. be here with us as long as you need. remain anonymous as long as you want. let yourself rest, recover, and heal. if you want want or need to talk, i'll listen. i've been where you are, and it takes time. i promise you, the sun will shine again. not today, nor next week, nor probably next month. but it will shine again. you may rest here until it does."

i've not only seen them sitting in the pew where i have presided, but i have seen them sitting in the next pew, where i was sitting... in the same condition.

here's my experience, for what it's worth.

a dozen or so years ago i resigned my pastorate and left the denomination i was in.

(setting: there were two reasons: first, for many years i had been trying to figure out "where i fit" or even "COULD i fit" anywhere in the church world. i had known for years that i did not share the modern paradigms, but couldn't find a reasonable alternative to what was available. (ultimately i landed in the episcopal church, which gave me the ancient liturgies plus the freedom to think, act and explore). second i really was burned out and beaten up from the nasty little wars in a congregation that had been chewing up pastors and associates for decades.)

i went immediately to the largest episcopal church i could find in the area. i remained anonymous. i was so burned out, and perhaps bitter (my wife says, "what do you mean, 'perhaps'???") that i felt nothing. i couldn't relate to the sermons. i felt pretty much like the recovering amnesiac in the early part of "the bourne identity" (the book, not the film). but i began to realize over a few months that God was present with me, even though i couldn't feel it... and that the weekly liturgy was nourishing me... even when i was too wrecked too realize it.

one of the things that became clear to me in my healing was that the church is a community, not a family. you can't be anonymous in a family -- to attempt to be anonymous in your own family entails rejection of family relationships and is perhaps even hostile. but communities are different: communities allow for all kinds of things that families don't. communities allow for friendships and families, but they also allow for anonymity. in communities you may participate in clubs and cohorts, but you may also retreat to the hospital or rehab center. you can't be an employee of the family and be part of the family, but you can be an employee AND part of the community at the same time. if i expect the church to be my family, and i don't see eye to eye with one member, we must sort it out or it wrecks the family. we may resort to therapy. but in a community, if i don't see eye to eye with one member, we don't really need to sort it out at all. we may continue to shop at the same market, gas up at the same station, attend the same theater, eat at the same restaurant, and live "in community" together peacefully, respectfully, and civilly. the unity of the community doesn't require us to be family -- just good neighbors. loving my neighbor doesn't require me to actually LIKE my neighbor -- just to be willing to behave like Christ to my neighbor.

church isn't about what i get out of it. showing up at church is a spiritual discipline, in which i show up on time before God, admitting (confessing) that i'm pretty much a screw-up longing for something, needing something, willing to let God do in me whatever is required for my own healing, and willing to submit to God's call in whatever is required for the healing of the world. for this task, a community is far superior to a family. i think if we surrender our expectation for the church to be a family, and view it as a community, we may find ourselves less disappointed and frustrated. we may also find ourselves experiencing more healing, and we may find there is a place for us to be of some use to that community and the world.

it turns out, surprise, surprise, that a congregation is a pretty good community to be part of, even if, perhaps especially if, one is a burned out, beaten up, former employee of some other congregation.

ps - after 4 years of healing and rehab in the new community, i was ordained in the new denomination. this is not because the episcopalians have it together any better than anyone else (no matter what denomination you're in, there's hardly anything in the world more goofy than one's own denomination). this is because God promises to be present in any community where two or three show up in his name. the burn-out and beating up can occur anywhere, but so can the healing and the rehab!

the Lord be with you.