We once had an amazing relationship with the Pastor and his Wife. I honestly looked to them as a second pair of parents, and surely the Pastor was like a father to me. He taught me so much about the ministry. Gave me feedback, and even helped Shanon and I through a rough patch we had.
In August of 2012, my brother decided to opt out of another brain surgery that he needed, and instead began hospice care. Shanon and I had a barely running family vehicle at that time, and were having trouble renting a vehicle to make the trip up. They were gracious enough to loan us their practically brand new vehicle to drive up there. Just amazing. Amazing friends/mentors/board game players.
Then, three days after returning from Detroit for my brother's funeral, we had a meeting. I am still to this day foggy on what we discussed other than my brother.
Apparently we heard two different conversations, because what was contained in the minutes of the Elder's meeting and what I remember are two entirely different things.
We exchanged emails.
His response was dismissive, and un-apologetic.
(I was wrong.)
And that's it. That's where it ended.
For the longest time, we had thought we were surrounded by all of these people who loved us, people who wanted us around, people who valued us as a family.
All of a sudden we were floating all alone. The Church that we had poured ourselves into, prayed with and for, and spent so much time trying to make a difference with, turned their back and simply walked away.
For the longest time, we had thought we were surrounded by all of these people who loved us, people who wanted us around, people who valued us as a family.
All of a sudden we were floating all alone. The Church that we had poured ourselves into, prayed with and for, and spent so much time trying to make a difference with, turned their back and simply walked away.
I was left to deal with my grief, alone.
Not a phone call, a visit, nothing.
For that matter, no one on the Elder's board contacted me. We had one lunch, with the assistant Pastor, and that was it.
We were removed from group leadership, and quickly replaced. Everyone was told we resigned. We also got an invite to the new group that was starting in our group's place. This indicates to me that while my brother was in Hospice care, or when he died, or even as I was helping with planning his funeral, somewhere in there a plan was put in place, new leaders were found, and even a new group name was thought of and ready to go. All of this information came to light less than a week after my brother's funeral.
And that was that.
I still, have not heard from Pastor or his Wife.
We mourn this loss.
In the end, my family was not worth a knock on the door, a phone call, a letter, another email, ....anything.
This is our last experience with a church that we were heavily involved with. We have visited many churches in the past year, but we never really found a new home.
I don't think we were even ready.
It is important to note some simple lessons here.
One, changes in leadership and decisions of this sort, should get a respectful amount of time after someone experiences the loss of someone from their immediate family. Had this happened, I am confident that the outcome would have been different. I am sure that the feeling of being manipulated that I have would not be here. Using this situation to one's advantage is surely not something that I believe that God would encourage of his church, or it's leaders.
Two, if people truly matter, and you value them as friends and brothers and sisters in Christ, show up. IF they are going through something catastrophic, listen. No one has a wand that can take suffering away. But don't turn away. Let them know you care. Let them know you miss them. Let them know they are not alone. Let them know that the very structure of friends and church around them hasn't burned to the ground.
These two lessons, as obvious as they seem, have been learned the hard way. Perhaps this prepares us for our future Church or ministry. Perhaps this helps us to continue to be the people that show up in times of loss. In times of grief. In hard times.
I don't think we were even ready.
It is important to note some simple lessons here.
One, changes in leadership and decisions of this sort, should get a respectful amount of time after someone experiences the loss of someone from their immediate family. Had this happened, I am confident that the outcome would have been different. I am sure that the feeling of being manipulated that I have would not be here. Using this situation to one's advantage is surely not something that I believe that God would encourage of his church, or it's leaders.
Two, if people truly matter, and you value them as friends and brothers and sisters in Christ, show up. IF they are going through something catastrophic, listen. No one has a wand that can take suffering away. But don't turn away. Let them know you care. Let them know you miss them. Let them know they are not alone. Let them know that the very structure of friends and church around them hasn't burned to the ground.
These two lessons, as obvious as they seem, have been learned the hard way. Perhaps this prepares us for our future Church or ministry. Perhaps this helps us to continue to be the people that show up in times of loss. In times of grief. In hard times.
I am hopeful that we will again find a church home when we get back to Michigan. I am confident that there is a church out there that will feel we are worth it. I know we are.
I am hopeful that we can once again learn to trust people, and that they will care for us as much as we care for them.
We hope.
That's a start.
