The end of church authority
It is a strange time to be a Christian in the twilight years of youth. I don’t know when middle-aged begins; but, at 36 years old, the threshold seems close. I often feel I should be more established, that I should be taking on more responsibility in institutional church life. I’m still trying to figure out if that’s the prodding of the Holy Spirit or the last vestiges of a church subculture in me that I’m no longer a part of.
Instead, church as I’ve known it for most of my life is unrecognizable. Our family is now on our third church in four years, largely due to the severe failures of authority figures and their inability to repent. Broken theology made space for authoritarian cultural systems that then compounded the damage. The majority of the discipleship I’m engaged in isn’t with new believers, but Christians who are disillusioned with our default, dying church culture. And after a decade of being misled and lied to by an alarming number of missions pastors at my day job, my view on institutional church life and evangelism —at least how they are often practiced in the American South— has left me deeply suspicious of both.
These experiences are a small window into a larger pattern unfolding across churches boldly claiming to be “biblical.” Pull up the news on any given day and there’s another church sex scandal. For even more faith communities, the scandal is less visible but just as destructive. Elders who worship their church’s broken culture fight to prevent the most common sense changes. Countless pastors quiet quit their jobs, or worse, dominate their flocks instead of doing life with them. The resulting paralysis fractures faith in community and frustrated Jesus-followers head for the exits.
All of this is playing out on the even bigger backdrop of three trends in American life:
Culturally-supported Christendom is waning in the United States. This is generating rising anxiety in socially conservative churches that is easy to feel, but often difficult to articulate in those spaces.
Trust in most all institutions is collapsing across the American public. There are fewer and fewer places for people who disagree to find common ground and feel safe in. This is driving up the country’s negative partisanship and historic loneliness epidemic even further.
Extreme individualism is on the ascendent. This takes on a variety of forms ranging from authoritarianism in socially conservative churches to aggressively therapeutic in some secular progressive spaces, with a holier-than-thou posture in the so-called center as well. All run a high risk of devolving into self-worship and seeing other people as less than.
Each of the above trends compounds the common theme I hear in most stories of church disillusionment: when church leadership fails, institutional authority collapses in its wake, and there seem to be no good options in the fallout. This challenge is much like how a drought threatens a forest. All it takes is one spark, one major screw-up in a local church, to set the whole institution ablaze. These broader trends leave us increasingly primed to not know what to do and retreat into ourselves.
With all this in mind, my goal here is threefold: 1) examine some common ways authority collapses in churches, 2) try to suss out how authority works at a practical level in our cultural context, and 3) explore practical steps we can take when authority in a local church begins to collapse.
First though, why does this matter?
The immediate reason is that real people are being hurt on a large scale. The Christian faith is supposed to be deeply communal. Good authority is an essential ingredient to healthy community. There are some aspects of communal life —specifically notions of authority and power— that we likely need to reexamine to better understand how harm is being done. We’ll survey this in much greater detail a little later.
From a missional perspective though, the Church exists to herald the Good News in word and deed, bringing Heaven to Earth in the lives of individuals, communities, and institutions along the way (John 3:1-21). Many churches today have no business even trying to do this. We are incapable of discipling and forming those in our flocks into healthy and whole human beings because we inherited a system that replaced both with a consumer culture that worships itself.
The failure is systemic. The collapse is keeping sincere followers of Jesus from participating in the institutional local church. It is preventing those places from being the Church. This is an existential crisis.
Examining how church authority collapses
This brief list does not include every way authority can erode in a local church. These are just four common buckets of issues we see today. Overlap exists but they are distinct enough to warrant special attention.
1. Sin and rejecting accountability, relationally and institutionally. The details vary, but the pattern is more or less the same: a powerful figure sins (abuse, embezzlement, lying etc.) and other leaders refuse to hold them accountable relationally. The brave few who try discover relational accountability is not possible and that no institutional mechanism exists either.
Elders fall into a pattern of “protecting” the institution by fighting to “restore” the fallen leader. Victims are lied to and gossiped about. The prophets God raises up to demand an end to sin and push for accountability, repentance, and repair are wrongfully admonished and forced to leave. New “theology” is even developed to shield the powerful from accountability.
This pattern is usually highlighted by male emotional fragility and authoritarianism. Emotionally brittle elders who are protecting a sinful figure balk at questions from congregants and verbally pummel those who call their embrace of sin into question. And they refuse to take ownership when it becomes apparent no one was doing their job to begin with.
2. Confusing cultural ideas of authority with “what the Bible says.” No expression of the Christian faith is immune from doing this, but churches that constantly harp on being “biblical” seem to struggle the most in this area. Scripture concerning church leadership (1 Timothy 3:1-13) is read in a vacuum separate from Jesus’ greatest teachings (Matthew 5:1-11, 20:20-28, 22:34-40), other verses about church leadership (1 Peter 5:1-3), and the most well-known aspects of the Christian life (i.e. Galatians 5:22-26).
“What the Bible says” is usually just a flat reading of very select passages of Scripture that ignores the many others that root authority and power in love and kindness. Authority, then, becomes more about having power and less about how it is wielded. Those who boldly declare they are “being biblical” fail to see that there are at least seven different models of church community and leadership presented in the New Testament that do not match their own. Leaders are ultimately primed to love less and control more.
3. Generational disrespect and no discipleship. One of the greatest communal breakdowns in churches today are the expectations of different generations. Broadly speaking, the Baby Boomers that are in charge of many churches seem to have little interest in preparing future generations to lead. The Spirit’s work in younger generations is rejected and we’re expected to do as we’re told, no more and no less.
Put another way: younger Christians are essentially taught that faith will be done for us by older people, not by us. The result is that many younger people are forced into spiritually-forming and discipling ourselves, both amongst each other and by using outside resources that give deeper theological and historical insights. The local church and its leaders become irrelevant to younger generations by their own doing (Hebrews 13:17).
I know some wonderful older people who don’t behave this way. I imagine many younger Christians do, but a lot of us share a common experience of having been left to fend for ourselves in an “intergenerational” church. If older leaders aren’t living relationally with younger people —and learning from us, too— the logical result is that younger Christians won’t take their authority seriously.
4. Lack of concern and gross incompetence. Our final batch is one of the most baffling: how indifferent many local church leaders are to obvious problems. Even in churches not facing a major crisis, there is often a sense that things are on autopilot. Small problems being ignored escalate into larger ones. Promises made are not kept. There’s neither excitement for the Good News nor concern at the slow exodus of people heading out the doors. Institutional behavior does not reflect reality or what the church is supposed to be.
I am still struggling to articulate the why behind this. Speaking from my own experience, I’ve run into an alarming number of elders who are the least theologically literate people in their church, to the point they can’t even explain why they believe what they believe. I’ve met elders and pastors who are just burned out, and even more who are aggressively unorganized. Then there are those who, for reasons beyond understanding, can’t follow through on promises they make and get deeply upset at people who find that frustrating. The sobering warning found in James 3 seems to be ignored, and sometimes unknown.
How I imagine James would feel about a lot of things if he were here today.
One is hard-pressed to find a church in my neck of the woods that is resistant to these problems. In fact, many openly embrace these stumbling blocks as “being biblical.” Leaders then act bewildered as conflict rises and people leave. Those who try to help are looked at with suspicion. Simple measures that can help improve relationships and build good institutional mechanisms even more so. Undergirding all of these problems though is a much, much deeper one.
What is authority?
A moment ago I mentioned there seems to be little to no understanding of how authority develops in a local church. Admittedly, I was completely blind to this until a few years ago. Living through two church implosions finally opened my eyes to the dangers of not understanding how authority does and should work in a local church.
So, what is authority?
The New Oxford American Dictionary defines authority as “the power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience” or “the power to influence others, especially because of one's commanding manner or one's recognized knowledge about something.” A single authority figure or institution can be both of these things, or not.
These definitions do a good job explaining our civic lives. In our western, market-driven, democratic society we collectively choose who our authority figures are (elections), have some agency in how they behave (political engagement), and have peaceful, albeit difficult means to remove authority from them if they misuse it (future elections, Congressional action, etc). We get to choose which experts, companies, and places we trust, or don’t. It can be messy and frustrating because authority in our context is highly social and different from large parts of the rest of the world.
Mapping these broad definitions onto the institution of the local church doesn’t work quite as well. Depending on where you find yourself in American Christianity, we have different views on what authority is and who has it. There’s elder authority in some churches and no such thing in others. Deacon authority here and not there. Papal or bishop authority or not. Denominational authority and independent churches. Biblical authority does not mean the same thing in every church, or even to everyone inside a single church. Some churches constantly harp on protecting their forms of authority, others could care less. There are also perceptions of authority, which can affect authority itself.
Still, each of these beliefs and approaches to authority have developed in the changing society we all call home. Even though American Christians snipe at each about what is “biblical” or “best,” the vast majority of adults still get to chose where and who we give authority to when it comes to the local church. At the end of the day, we can choose to walk away from a local church, whether we have good reason to or not. More sheltered fundamentalist subcultures put up severe social and psychological barriers to leaving, but even much of that power rests in a perception that leaving is wrong.
Authority in the local church, then, is given from two areas: God (Matthew 20:20-28) —as we try to understand Him through the work of the Spirit and in Scripture— and a church’s members. Humans can only receive authority as authority does not come from within.
Authority coming from God is a solemn thing (1 Timothy 3, James 3, 1 Peter 5) Whenever I hear a leader rant about their “God-given authority,” I cringe because they’ve confused perceptions of their power with authority given to them. Having the financial resources to go to seminary and the connections to get hired by a church doesn’t mean God gave you authority. It could just mean your circumstances afforded you easier opportunities. The same applies to the various ways elders and denominational officials can hold higher office.
Interestingly, Jesus himself speaks to this in Matthew 20:20-28:
Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came to him with her sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favor of him. And he said to her, “What do you want?” She said to him, “Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” But Jesus answered, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?” They said to him, “We are able.” He said to them, “You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.”
When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers. But Jesus called them to him and said, “You know that the rulers of the gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you, but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave, just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life a ransom for many.”
Being given formal authority does not mean you automatically have full functional power over others. Again, at the end of the day, people can choose to remove the authority they gave a church or leader over them by leaving, with or without just cause. Human authority is inherently limited, which means it is also accountable —if not to itself than to the departing congregants— and ultimately to the Lord.
Obviously this all can and does get misused by leaders and members. Stories of abusive pastors and elders abound. A tired pastor once told me a family rage quit their membership because his church switched to LED lightbulbs. Any and everyone can misuse authority and power in destructive and even ridiculous ways.
Personally though, I think these notions of human authority being given, being limited, and being accountable reflect what God wants for the local church, regardless of what corner of the Christian faith we are in. Those with authority in the church should bow to the Lord and beg for help exercising power with a loving hand. They should be the loudest about the need for processes that limit the risks of abuse and safeguard victims when the system fails. They should be truthful when they make an honest mistake or discover an area of personal ignorance, showing they are aware of the damage they can inflict.
If an authority figure does abuse their power and refuse to repent, church members should recognize that leader no longer has legitimate authority and remove it from them, by process or by leaving (1 Timothy 5:20-21). Even if they do repent, there are some abuses so severe (i.e. sexual abuse) that authority and power should still be removed as law enforcement is engaged. Grace does not mean there are no consequences.
Some will argue this puts a chilling effect on ministry. It doesn’t have to. Choosing to do this work joyfully, to be aware of our surroundings sincerely, and to understand our moment truthfully for what it is are some of the oldest Christian values (Colossians 4:2-6). We must understand that —in our cultural moment— trust in authority can collapse from a situation merely appearing to lack accountability.
Anything less and a leader in a local church is calling into doubt their own authority and perceptions of it. But power…power is a very different story.
Exploring the difference between formal authority and functional power
At the beginning, I mentioned there are some aspects of church life —specifically notions of authority and power— that we need to reexamine to better understand how harm is done. Let’s spell that out plainly: in my cultural context, we often seem to confuse authority with power. They are not the same thing, although they are related to and inform each other.
We’ve already defined authority, so let’s now define functional power. The New Oxford American Dictionary defines power as “the ability to do something or act in a particular way, especially as a faculty or quality.” I think this works quite well for our purposes because it has more to do with what comes from within and how we are empowered or restrained by larger cultural expectations around us, whereas authority must be bestowed upon a person from outside them.
Every human being has dignity, a voice, and tremendous value. We are born with functional power and grow into having more of it. Like authority, this can also be misused, such as when we try to remove or restrain someone else’s functional power without just cause (i.e. they’re a legitimate danger to others).
There are broadly three types of people, then, when it comes to authority and power in local churches:
Those with Formal Authority and Functional Power - Pastors, elders, deacons, staff…pretty much people with titles who make decisions, directly control the church’s financial and material resources, and provide broad theological and cultural direction to the congregation.
Those with Informal Authority and higher levels of Functional Power - This includes those without a title, but who provide a critical leadership layer: small group leaders, committee members, highly-engaged volunteers, etc. Depending on a local church’s culture, this may include the wealthy members who fund most of the church.
Those with No Authority and lower levels of Functional Power - This can range from people who are active in the life of the church but prefer following others, to those who are unengaged, to those who are new and don’t have deep roots yet. The only functional power they immediately have access to is deciding to follow the guidance of those with authority and higher functional power (or not), do nothing, or leaving. This group makes up the bulk of people in most churches.
These groups can be broken down further, such as some with formal authority having less functional power. Or some with higher functional power earning so much informal authority from others through communal work that people view them as having formal authority. You get the idea.
As we can see, there is a natural communalism built into the local church. Those with formal authority need their authority to be tethered to something beyond themselves (God and the congregation). They need people with informal authority to have real functional power, otherwise things won’t get done and the local church ceases being one. And everyone else needs both so that there are real opportunities to grow together. The local church is supposed to be deeply communal, not hyper-individualistic.
Each of these groups of people need each other, which means they must be accountable to each other. This applies especially to those with formal authority because, when it doesn’t, the local church drifts into dangerous waters, where storms rage and the waves are too high for any ship to survive.
When trust in formal authority collapses, harmful chaos ensues
There’s a stereotypical joke that 20% of the people in a church do most of the work as the other 80% tag along. Like a lot of quips in this vein, the 80/20 Rule has real truth behind it. Those with formal authority and functional power usually represent a fraction of a local church’s people but carry the vast majority of the burden. In times of little conflict this can keep a local church afloat, albeit with a lot of problems like leader burnout, overstretched volunteers, and some communal detachment as people fall through the cracks.
Because we often confuse formal authority and functional power on top of this dynamic that rests all of both in such a small group of people, when a crisis breaks, people are harmed as a church’s culture goes off the rails. There are many ways this can play out, but I want to explore one example in a very common kind of church in my neck of the woods: “Bible-based,” male elder-led churches.
As I mentioned earlier, it is a common experience that elders in systems like this are some of the least theologically literate people in their church. They also tend to be the least knowledgable when it comes to the relationship between authority and power. There are obviously exceptions to this, several I even respect and am on good terms with. But they are just that: exceptions.
Elders and pastors in these kinds of churches seem to have a hard time understanding that just because another human being(s) gave them formal authority, it doesn’t mean they automatically have authority from the Lord or unlimited functional power. Certainly they gain some functional power with the title, which is necessary and good in spirit. But it is widely believed in such churches that there is no difference between formal authority and functional power. This is a severe problem because it means there is often no relational or institutional mechanism that can hold elders and pastors —those with the highest levels of formal authority— to account. It is an inherently anti-communal system because there is a group of people who are structurally and relationally shielded from accountability.
It is simply not a reflection of how authority and power works in the real world either. Functional power comes with formal authority, yes; but, the most powerful form of functional power still rests with those who have no formal authority. Again, in our cultural context, people can choose to reject formal authority and leave a local church whenever they want to. Therefore, those with formal authority have hard limits on their functional power over others, whether they think they do or not. They can gain more functional power as time passes by doing life with the congregation and leading and listening well; but, as many of us know from experience, “bible-based” male elder-led churches often struggle to do so.
The other side of this coin is that some of those with higher levels of functional power but little to no formal authority often have a great deal of informal authority, so much so that people believe or want them to have formal authority. Again, these are the small group leaders, core volunteers, etc. They make a faith community tick day in and day out beyond Sunday morning. They’re the ones doing life together with the congregation and formal leaders and creating the space for others to do the same.
This is where the rubber meets the road. So, let’s stop talking in abstractions and use a common example to explore how chaos ensues when formal authority collapses.
The same destructive story, a million different ways
It’s Sunday morning at a local church. A rumor started going around a few days ago that two beloved staff members are deeply upset. The reasons why are unknown, but now there seems to be an issue with the pastor, too. He is rumored to have been placed on leave. The elders are expected to make an announcement during the service.
The news seems not great, but it’s also lacking in details. The elders say there are issues in the pastor’s family that need to be dealt with and they are providing the support the family needs. What the issues are, the elders do not say. But we will get through this, they pledge. All that’s needed is time to set things right. The best thing people can do is give them space, pray, and let the elders do their work. You can trust us, they say. God, after all, has given them authority.
The first staff member resigns that afternoon. Then another the following day. News soon breaks that the pastor was having an affair, but unbeknownst to the average person that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The floodgates are about to open.
The elders schedule two meetings with the stated aim of announcing a path forward: one with church staff and another for small group and other key congregational leaders. Neither meeting goes well. The elders refuse to answer basic questions and show flashes of anger when they are called out for not being transparent. An actual plan is not even presented. It seems these meetings were more about the elders trying to show those with functional power who is really in charge.
More information slowly drips out into the pews as the weeks go by. Where it is coming from, no one knows, but almost all of it is verified as true. The pastor wasn't just having an affair, he was verbally abusive toward staff members —particularly female staff— who had asked questions about his erratic decisions. Apparently a few of the elders knew of his affair for months and opted for trying to bring it to an end quietly and cover it up. Other elders had brushed off concerns staff had brought to them about the pastor’s increasingly hostile behavior. As people in the pews begin considering what they are hearing, it becomes apparent that the elders have not been fulfilling their responsibilities for years.
By now, the elders are at war with the staff and key members, the latter of whom are trying to shield the congregation from a group of fragile men who are unmoored from reality. The elders constantly harp on the authority the Bible “gives” them and are demanding total submission. Staff and key members rightfully point out that the authority the elders claim is premised on being above reproach, which they no longer are. The elders —who had bought the pastor’s cultural views lock, stock, and barrel— have never had to argue for those beliefs and fail to provide an adequate response, becoming angrier and more controlling instead. Both sides search in vain for an institutional mechanism to resolve the issue.
Understandably, the average churchgoer increasingly feels the elders are not trustworthy, so they turn to the staff, small group leaders, and volunteers for leadership. Few realize what is happening at this critical juncture: the elders are losing functional power and the congregation is trying to give formal authority to the people who have the best interests of their community at heart. It’s an understandable and righteous desire, but there is still no mechanism to see it through.
Rather than repenting, the elders double down in increasingly nefarious ways. Protecting their image will come before the community they have been tasked to shepherd, no matter the cost. In meetings with frustrated members, they downplay the issues and cast doubt on the intentions, work, and character of staff members and key congregation members. They act as if they are the real victims and suggest the actual problem is that the staff won’t work with them. This sets off a cycle of gossip driven by half-truths and things that are outright false, inflicting widespread confusion on the congregation.
A grinding paralysis sets in. People begin to leave confused, broken, and hurt. A staff member here. A small group leader there. The single elder who genuinely understands the problem for what it is quietly steps aside in exhaustion. More families leave as the months go by. The perceived power of the remaining elders slowly strengthens as those opposed to their sin bow out. The faith of sincere Christians who have departed is called into question, and those who remain are told they are the true faithful. Eventually, the pastor returns and the remaining people rejoice. The shepherd has returned to his pedestal. We were faithful, the elders tell the people, and God rewarded us for it.
But the church is now a shell of its former self. Its most engaged members are gone. Important aspects of communal life are degraded by the absence of once loving and caring staff. The church will stagger forward because it still has financial resources, but communal life is now deeply confused with tribalism. The seeds of the next crisis are already sown in the elders and pastor who were never held to account. And in a cultural climate that is losing trust in institutions by the day, the broader community the church is nestled in no longer sees it as a safe place. This church has ceased being a church because it no longer serves Jesus. It serves the decadent fragility of “biblical manhood.”
As for those who left, they try to pick up the pieces of their now shattered lives. Some walk away from the faith entirely. They were told this church was the way to be a Christian. It blew up in their face; so, really, who can blame them? Some others go deeper into their faith as they run toward Jesus with their newfound freedom. But they are now so suspicious of the local church that they struggle to find a new home. Church for them is mostly friends who are just trying to figure life out. And probably a lot of podcasts, books, and connecting online with people who have similar experiences.
This is how a local church’s authority comes to an end. Those with formal authority inside of it reject their own calling in fits of selfish, fragile destruction. The damage extends beyond its walls into the broader community. I know because, like many of you, I’ve lived through a version of this story myself. Twice.
Of course, the details always vary. Maybe it wasn’t an affair, but a pastor on a power trip. Perhaps even more common is an elder being the formal authority figure who screws up. Often times it’s years worth of slights, broken promises, apathy, and lies that slowly turn into ticking time bombs. The battle for the soul of the church can be lost overnight. Sometimes we learn a church never had much of a soul to begin with, that most people are there because of the broken theology and culture, not in spite of it.
But how the story plays out is often very much the same. The elders essentially become a rigid priesthood. They demand that they do “faith” for everyone, in entirely performative ways that give the mere illusion of faith. When those with functional power are forced to challenge them, they eventually discover that the only option they have is to exercise their power to the fullest by leaving.
The irony should not be lost on us that —at least here in the American South where I live— this story of a rigid, abusive priesthood repeats itself so often in churches claiming to be Protestant.
So much for the priesthood of all believers.
What do we do when authority turns rotten?
A lot of you reading this were made to feel powerless by the harm or scorn a church leader(s) inflicted. There was a season when I felt powerless, too. Eventually I realized those individuals had removed any claim to formal authority from themselves because they were not above reproach, severely so (1 Timothy 3:1-12). They were lying, inflicting harm on people, and breaking the bonds of earned trust. They did all of it with the utmost intention. There was no interest in repentance. So, we exercised our functional power and left.
I also learned some lessons about what we should do when things begin going sideways. Lessons that have already proven useful in helping more people survive with their faith intact.
Preventative work seems to be the best option. Any church can take healthy steps to be more Christlike, such as intentionally decentralizing authority and power, listening to voices on the margins, and creating strong systems for handling abuse and protecting victims. We should take character formation and true, relational discipleship seriously, too. So many of us are emotionally immature because we don’t. We don't know how to handle conflict well, how to be peacemakers, how to own our mistakes and repent, and how to forgive. All are necessary to experience genuine community. All can better safeguard people when an authority figure does go off the rails.
Regardless of what kind of church we find ourselves in, the best preventative work anyone can do is to simply be a Christian in community. Get to know people and be known. Go to that Bible study you keep saying you are going to try. Seek out your leaders and ask them questions about internal processes, or lack thereof. Ask how what is lacking can be fixed and how the good can be made better. Be a part of making it happen. Start volunteering with a small group of fellow members outside your church. Share meals. Be with people who don’t live, think, or believe exactly as you do.
Make your faith your own. Love in community is not a single act. It is throwing your heart into the people around you again and again. Good times are the best moment to make tangible progress on preventing future crises. As we have seen time and again, waiting until disaster strikes is stupid. By the time it becomes apparent preventative work should have been done, it is likely too late. At that point three things seem to matter most:
1. If a crime has or is being committed, treat it as such. The most damaging sins —such as sexual assault, child molestation, and physical abuse— are not just sin, they are also crimes. So are embezzlement and harboring wanted criminals.
An alarming number of authority figures in churches believe all problems should be handled inside the church, including criminal activity. As we have seen time and again, this belief ends up shielding abusers, causing further harm to victims, and ultimately destroys the credibility and authority of the institution. Criminal activity should be handled by law enforcement, not elders and pastors.
If the problem is not a legal matter; then, there are broadly two things we are called to do as Christians.
2. Be a peacemaker. Making peace means entering into the conflict, not avoiding it (Matthew 5:9). It means taking people seriously for the truth or lies they tell and the misunderstandings they have. It means advocating for repentance and repair, not sweeping real problems and concerns under the rug. This can be done many different ways depending on the situation, including:
Examining your surroundings. Check in with those you are closest to. Do they see the problems? Why or why not? What are they willing to do to help? Have you been hurt? Have they been hurt? More perspective can help ensure your assessment of the situation is accurate. And if others see and feel what you see and feel, you are no longer alone. If they don’t, take a step back and reconsider. If your concerns bring virulent pushback that’s likely a sign something is wrong. If you are confident in your convictions but no one else is willing to even consider them, it may be best to go ahead and leave. That is a tell-tale sign abuse lies ahead and that true love and faith in community are already dead.
Talking to good authority. If there is an elder, pastor, or staff member you know is solid and listens well, go to them with your concerns. They may be unaware of the problem or severity of it, or they may know more than you do and can let you know what steps other leaders are taking. If not, they may be able to work with you on next steps and, at the very least, an authority figure in your church knows you see a problem and that your intentions are good.
Talking to damaged authority. Go to the authority figure(s) who seem to be the source of the problem. Bring someone with you if you know it is likely not going to go well. While unlikely, the authority figure may be unaware their behavior is causing anxiety or harm and quickly take steps to repent and repair. They should be given the opportunity to set things right. If they brush your concerns off, bristle with anger, or lie, you have still done them a service by putting them on notice that their sin is no longer hidden.
Standing with the most vulnerable. When those in authority become unmoored from reality and are out of control, there is often both direct and collateral damage. An elder or pastor who is willing to raise their voice and gaslight you and others behind closed doors is likely saying damaging and insensitive things in group settings, too. And in male-dominated church cultures especially, women and children are at a higher risk because they are not taken as seriously as men are. As you work and move through an environment in which formal authority is collapsing, be mindful of those who may be under attack or have been disrespected and come to their aid.
Correcting misinformation and lies, and doing it head on. This was the hardest lesson for me to learn through the first church implosion I experienced. I severely underestimated how far an abusive elder was willing to go in creating lies about me, my intentions, and my experiences to try to cover up his own sin and gross incompetence. During the second church implosion, I was much better prepared to push back on the lies that abusive leaders were telling about other pastors, staff, and congregation members they had verbally accosted and forced out. Those men didn’t really care and pressed ahead with their sin, but a lot of other folks began to see the lies for what they were as more people challenged them with hard truth. Telling the truth didn’t fix the problem, but it did provide space for more people to make informed decisions about whether they should stay or go.
Knowing your limits. Finally, doing all the above while knowing your limits is critical. If you’re feeling beaten down it’s because you are. Take a step back. If you feel like it is up to you to “save” your church, know that is not your job. People who refuse to be held to account are at fault. If you feel you are about to sustain severe mental or spiritual damage, or feel physically threatened, that means your church has ceased being the church and it is time for you to leave.
3. Accept the consequences for being a Christian and do it loudly. These days, it’s clear that efforts to call bad authority into repentance have a minimal chance of succeeding. We should do what is right and accept the consequences for it, even if they are unfair. The story of Stephen challenging the authorities of his day in Acts 6-7 is a powerful example of accepting the consequences of being a Christian, no matter what.
Embracing the hostility. You may be yelled at. You may be lied about and gaslit. You may be treated unfairly. Ironically, authority figures may even try to “discipline” you for not being “biblical,” even though you are in the best sense of the term and it is them who are not. You may even be asked to leave. Be like Stephen. Speak out. Tell the truth. Let others who are concerned know what is being done to you. Declare your allegiance to Jesus and ask that he not hold their sin against them.
Writing a detailed, formal resignation letter. Many people who are leaving a church under poor circumstances learn they are being gossiped about. This is often driven by authority figures desperately trying to regain full control of their narrative. Writing a detailed resignation letter, delivering it to multiple authority figures, and letting fellow members know it is available to them can be a powerful check on their deceit. We should never be casual about the truth. Truth always matters, especially when those in positions of formal authority are trying to bury it.
Saying farewell in love. Quiet-quitting can leave people you are close to feeling abandoned. It may not be possible to have one-on-one conversations with every person you’ve met, but do at least tell those you are close to and on good terms with that you are departing and why. It’s not only the loving thing to do, your story may help them as they make their own decisions about staying or going.
Being available in the aftermath, if you can. There’s a chance that folks at your former church will approach you with questions after you are gone, often because they are beginning to notice problems and seeking clarity. Try to answer their questions as truthfully as you can. If you feel as if you are not in a place to help, be respectful and let them know you’re still recovering.
And what next? If you must leave, what then?
Take ownership of your faith. Mourn the loss. If possible, mourn with others who have left. Try not to be alone. Don’t wait around for an apology or reconciliation. Many who are forced to leave a church are owed a genuine apology they will never get. Finding a path forward when you have been wronged and those who did it are still in a position of authority —and unrepentant— can feel impossible. Get help. Deal with the trauma. See a good therapist whether you think you need to or not. Take care of yourself.
If an effort to apologize and reconcile is made, try to discern if it is serious or just an attempt by church leaders to make themselves look better. The latter should be declined for everyone’s sake. And if a leader who is not responsible for the harm does offer a sincere apology, do show your appreciation, but let them know they’re not the person who owes you an apology.
When you’re ready, start visiting new church communities and include ones that are not in the tradition you are used to. Even if they’re not a good fit, new perspective can be enlightening and refreshing. Visiting any church after such experiences can be nerve-wracking, especially if it’s in an unfamiliar style. But this step can be really helpful and even healing.
Before our family landed at our current church, we visited another that was very different than what we were used to. It was not a good fit for us, but we met genuinely kind people and saw that they took their faith in community and cultivating a good institution very seriously. We heard a broader image of the Good News we believe in, but had rarely heard preached. Two pastors walked down the main aisle holding babies being dedicated. The love and joy in their smiles and words were undeniably contagious. They were dedicating the future, a future that was full of hope.
Our brief time there reminded us that there are local churches which are thriving. It was an encouragement not to give up hope and clarified what we needed in a local church. This was good news.
Closing Thoughts
I’m not optimistic about churches in which authority has collapsed being able to change. I’ve seen too much to unsee and heard to much to unhear. I’ve never seen so many Christian spaces and believers as broken as they are now, or places and people on the verge of becoming broken. But I have hope.
For years, we were asked by those with formal authority to put together a 1,000 piece puzzle, to build a church. It seemed to work fine for a while; but, when we started asking deeper questions, those with formal authority flipped the table, poured gasoline on the scattered pieces, and then stood over us with a lit match, daring those with functional power to try to put it back together.
Some days I’m not sure what bothers me more: the damage done in those moments, or the fact that many with formal authority have no clue how authority actually works, both as envisioned by the New Testament authors and lived in our very different cultural context today.
But I have hope because I’ve come to understand we were working on the wrong puzzle. We were taught to put it together the wrong way for the wrong reasons. We were asked to do so by the wrong people in ways that benefited them temporally at the expense of everyone else. We were told it was all for Jesus and that this was the best, true way to be the church.
But we reap what we sow (Galatians 6:7-10). I have hope because more and more Christians across generations are seeing the rotten fruit for what it is. We need the institution of the local church to do and be better. Change is inevitable, even if it is only to come through a slow and bloodied dying off of local churches that are replaced by new ones. The hope I feel meditating on this seems paradoxical. Or maybe I’m just losing my mind. Maybe it’s a little of both.
Some who read this will say I’m harming the Church’s witness by writing about these things. “How are we to share the Good News if people think we’re screwed up?!” they’ll ask in great anxiety. But here’s the thing: people already know a lot of churches are screwed up in especially bad ways. It’s because they see the damage and hypocrisy that they see Jesus even clearer.
I’ve had more opportunities to share the Good News in the last few years than I have my entire life. It turns out there are a ton of people interested in Jesus, so interested they already know many local churches don’t reflect him well. People are craving integrity and honesty in our current cultural climate. They still expect local churches to hold themselves to a higher standard than everyone else, just as the Apostle Paul suggested (1 Corinthians 5:9-13). They don’t need to hear the Gospel. They need to see it (1 Peter 2:11-12).
Over the past few years I’ve tried to be more open about how Jesus is changing my life, including in my writings and conversations here. Through these meager efforts I’ve learned just how true this is. I wonder how beautiful it would be to see this truth reflected institutionally as well.
We are living in a time when the default setting for church authority is coming to a needed end. The end is the logical result of what the default is. Other movements — Christian and otherwise— with a heavy emphasis on excessive individualism never seem to last long. Institutions that bury the truth in a vain bid to protect their image may succeed at both for a while, but the inner vitality of the institution is always harmed in the long run. Men will always fail when they alone are given formal authority, because we are not designed to be the only ones with formal authority. Tightening control over people who are advancing faith in Jesus and love in community inevitably destroys both.
What the next standard starting place will look like, I do not know. All I know is that I’m no longer embarrassed to call myself a Christian. I’m more excited to live for Jesus today than I ever have been.
My generation gets to help build a new default starting place for churches, one that begins in a much kinder place. That is more capable of listening, learning, and changing. That brings joy and health to those who need it most. Communities rooted in truth and love instead of hyper-individualistic transactionalism. Ones that take character formation and relational discipleship seriously, that lead us to being more emotionally mature. So we can handle conflict well, make peace, own our mistakes and repent, and forgive. A new default starting place that cares a lot more about practicing the Gospel than talking about it as an abstraction.
These past few years, I’ve met a diverse cast of people already on this road. The common denominator is that Jesus makes dealing with the scale of today’s crisis of authority bearable. This is good news. It means that, at the end of the day, Jesus is still the only authority we truly bow to, no matter what.
He will bring us home.
I explore faith and church culture in the American South from Memphis, TN. Never miss an article by signing up for my newsletter and subscribing to the podcast. You can also become a member or leave a tip to help keep this site free and open to all.
