[Note:  Something is off with the formatting for paragraphs when the draft actually posts, but I am giving up trying to fix it!  Sorry.]

I grew up in South Central Texas, as belted in the Bible as you could get. We attended CHBaptist Church, a real big church just a mile or so up the road, right past my elementary school. (Baptist churches in Texas come in three size: Real Big, Really, Really Big, and outright Gigantormously Big.) Like all good Baptists, we were at church whenever the doors were open: Sunday morning for Sunday School and worship, Sunday evening for Training Union and service, Wednesdays for Prayer Service, the annual Revival , annual Missions conferences, special speakers, potlucks, VBS– you name it, the Heumier crew was present, front and center. CHBC was an integral part of family life – and we were an integral part of CHBC.
On the first night out on vacation in the summer when I was about 8 or 9, just after all seven of us had gotten settled into our sleeping bags in the big, green canvas tent, Mama said she had something to tell us: we were leaving CHBC. When we got back from vacation, we would begin searching for a new church. Although it felt strange to leave the familiar place, most of my friends were from school rather than church, and I disliked (and even feared) the hellfire-and-brimstone pastor, so I wasn’t too unhappy about leaving. We weren’t the only family to exit stage left at the time, but I was too young to be fully aware of the pain and anguish the split left in its wake. We found another church (a Really, Really Big one), and were very happy there until we had to move away because of my dad’s job transfer.
Since then, I have attended 11 different churches. At the 6 churches my dh and I have been at since our marriage in ’82, my dh and I have been through 3 splits. The first was when we and several other families (including the pastor’s) left our small church after it became clear that most of the congregation had a very different vision of what the purpose of the church was. It was an uncomfortable, though not a rancorous, split.
We were at our next church for 13 years, involved in leadership at high levels. In the first split there, involving the ouster of a pastor for serious cause, Rob was Executive Director, and we were in the majority who remained behind. The offenses did not take place with outside witnesses, so it took many months before the leadership had its case prepared. In the meantime rumor, anger, and bitterness ran amok, and fault lines split wide between those who believed the pastor and those who believed the accusers. In the end, an overwhelming majority of the congregation was convinced of the need to remove the pastor from office. Since his conduct in the aftermath of his ouster gave very public demonstration of the veracity of the accusations, some of those who had been on his side acknowledged that they had been “taken in” by his publicly plausible charisma. Still, there were many congregants left bruised and battered on either side. Friendships that had lasted for years ended; others were severely strained.
The second split at that church came several pastors later, when Rob was Head Elder. A new pastor was brought in who turned out to have a very, shall we say, aggressive style, very decided ideas of how he wanted things done, and little or no respect for anyone who didn’t agree with him. A trickle of people began leaving within 6 months of his arrival. The situation came to a head when he proposed a plan that completely and unabashedly violated the church’s constitution and by-laws, and enough of a majority at the congregational meeting voted to begin implementation. A number of other families, including ours, joined the Diaspora at that point. Altogether, some quarter to a third of the families from the congregation left; most, like us, had been long-time members and heavily involved leaders.
Both of those splits were extremely traumatic, leaving the pasture littered with casualties. In the first split, most leaving went to churches of other denominations, but in the second, being families with strong ties to the denomination, we mostly ended up at sister churches, which created especially awkward situations since we were quite likely to be thrown together with members from our previous church at conferences, retreats, and so on. Some folks actively avoided each other, some folks just tacitly ignored each other, while others pretended nothing had happened and we’d never been at the same church. Over time, some relationships were re-established on an amicable footing, but for others the rupture was permanent.
This past December and January the church that I and my oldest daughter and family attend (a different denomination), experienced a split, with about 15 of our families leaving. Although I have been attending this church for about 5 years now, I have not become involved very deeply, for various reasons, so it is no wonder that I was entirely taken by surprise – but from what I’ve heard, not many others in the congregation knew the problems existed until the situation exploded, either. As is almost always the case, for those involved, the split caused wrenching pain and much collateral damage, both for those who stayed and those who left.
In almost every split I’ve been part of/witness to, there have been a few people whose actions, I think, helped lessen the hurt, and brought faster healing of what hurt there was. I’m sad – and ashamed – that I’ve transgressed some of them, but I hope that I’ve learned from the better example. Let me tell you these things I’ve learned.
I’ve learned that a split, in and of itself, is not necessarily the worst thing that can befall a church. God works in all things – even conflict and splits. He may use a split to help a congregation clarify its calling by the issues brought to light in conflict. If the church has been trying to go in two directions at once, neither will be getting done well; splitting may free the church to focus on one direction rather than the other. Leaders may find themselves encouraged in their leadership, or may see areas where they needed humbling so that they can be better shepherds. A gap left by someone leaving may open up opportunities for someone unexpected to serve. Sometimes we stay in a place out of sheer inertia, even though there are serious issues that bother us; conflict may challenge us with the question, “Is this really where I am supposed to be?” God may use a split to move part of one flock to a part of the pasture where they are needed more. That’s certainly what happened with the Diaspora. (And the church we left? It didn’t die, or even come near collapse – which I must confess the ugly truth that part of me would have almost enjoyed as vindication of how right we were to object to that pastor. It  recovered fairly quickly and went on to be strong and healthy. )
I have been struck that one of the first instructions given in many books on marriage is that both parties should begin any conflict by assuming the goodwill of the other. That is, each spouse should act in the belief that the other spouse does, in fact, love him/her, does, in fact, desire the best for him/her, and that whatever is going on, the INTENT is not to wound him/her. If we applied this concept to churches, acting on the assumption that neither side wants to destroy the church, is deliberately trying to wound others who disagree, or is intentionally trying to cause a split, if we acknowledged that both sides share the same goal of seeing the church thrive (differ though we do on the “how” it would be best achieved), it would change the whole tone of any conflict – both how we would act ourselves, and how we would interpret others’ actions. If we could “agree in the Lord” on this primary assumption, it might keep us from “enemizing” each other – creating a “we are the good guys and we’re right” and “you are the enemy and you’re wrong” mindset that prevents any real communication from occurring, and only serves to set each side up to dig in its heels to defend its position.
If we are among the ones who stay behind, assuming the goodwill of the other party would include assuming that the decision took place only after considerable prayer to discern God’s will, and is as painful for them as it is for us. Though there may have been a specific incident that proved the “tipping point” that triggered the timing of their leaving, we should not belittle the decision as being “only” because of that incident. We need to acknowledge that we do not know everything that went into the decision – especially since even those leaving may not, at the time, recognize all the factors. Going through this kind of trauma without the support of the flock you’ve been a part of is horrendously difficult, especially if you’ve been there a long time and your connections are deep, so we should be willing to meet those who have left in a spirit of mutual grief and support, whether we agree with their positions or their decision to leave. If we speak respectfully of those who have left, even if still dealing with feelings of personal hurt, we take the higher road.
And what of those who leave? If we have decided that leaving is what we have to do, it can be helpful to if possible explain that decision to those who will be directly affected or who are likely to notice our absence, such as people with whom we are on boards with, or groups with whom we serve. The intent should not be to foment further discontent or to get others to take up an offence on our behalf, of course, nor should we reveal information that is confidential or that the listener does not need to know, but to simply disappear opens the door to all kinds of speculation, and may leave some tender souls feeling undeserved guilt that it was somehow their fault. As we should be ready to accept overtures of concern and support from those we have left, we should be as ready to make those overtures ourselves. Those leaving a church are faced with an additional temptation to voice their complaints to those outside the church, but if we remember that that church is still part of God’s family, we will be careful how, and how much, and with whom, we share.
When it comes to conflict, God isn’t impressed by how correct we are. We may be perfectly “right” – and still be utterly wrong. If we don’t speak to one another in love and humility, if we are quick to take offence, if we are unwilling to listen, we are wrong. If we close our minds and hearts to the possibility that others might have some valid points, valid concerns, valid criticisms, then we are wrong. If we gossip about, slander, and judge one another, then we are wrong. It may be easy to convince ourselves of the righteousness of our position, but if we go about treating one another in an unrighteous manner, we are wrong. If we let our position on the disagreement become more important to us than our brothers and sisters, we are wrong. “Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” I Peter 4:8
No split is pain-free, but God willing, we can at least minimize the need for Excedrin.