When this article appeared in LEADERSHIP nearly a decade ago, readers appreciated its insights into a difficult task: working with people who are leaving the church or becoming inactive.
Several years ago while looking through slides I had used in an every-member canvass in my church, I was shocked.
Pictured in the first three slides were three couples who had held key offices during my first year. Now, four years later, those couples were totally inactive. They no longer attended worship, except maybe on Christmas or Easter, made no financial contribution, and had a negative attitude about the congregation.
How could people move from active involvement to total inactivity in just four years? I wondered.
I thought of times I had visited inactive members and seen absolutely nothing happen. In fact, often they were more convinced to stay away after I made the call. I needed to figure out how to keep current members active and enable inactive ones to return.
I went to work on these questions as I pursued a doctorate and have continued to search for answers over the last decade. With a psychologist and a theologian, I designed a research project. Thirteen trained pastors and I interviewed inactive members from four United Methodist congregations to find out what caused them to disappear from church life.
Meeting an APE
We found 95 percent of the people had experienced what we now call an “anxiety-provoking event”-an ape. Subsequent research showed these events usually come in clusters, several apes compounding within six months to a year.
Anxiety is the emotional alarm system triggered by disequilibrium, hurt, or anticipated hurt. The inactive members we visited revealed high levels of anxiety, which drove them from church membership because they were never resolved. Their anxiety fell into four categories.
Reality anxiety.
This anxiety is based on some real, historical event; you could have videotaped what caused it. Normally the event is a snub or an utter lack of church care when a member needed it.
A while back I preached in a church in Vancouver. Two days prior, a family from the church had their home burn to the ground, and their 2- and 4-year-old children died in the fire. How many people went to visit him and his wife? Maybe the pastor, but probably not many parishioners. Most would confess, “I wouldn’t know what to say,” as if they had to say something.
That event causes reality anxiety. A family experiencing this kind of tragedy would have a hard time returning to a church they felt let them down when they needed them.
Moral anxiety.
Moral anxiety arises when people experience in themselves or others behaviors they believe aren’t right.
A lay person called me and said, “I understand you work with churches where people are leaving.”
“That’s true.”
“Our senior pastor has admitted having an affair with a woman in the congregation,” he said. “Our associate pastor confessed a homosexual affair with our organist, and we have four choir members involved in affairs.”
That large church lost more members over moral anxiety than most churches ever will.
Moral anxiety can also be private yet still drive people from the church. In Meetings at the Edge, Steven Levine tells the story of a devout Christian nurse who cared for Evie, a woman who was given permission by her family to end her life because of the extreme pain caused by cancer.
Helen, the nurse, refused to participate in such an act. Yet Evie persisted. She planned to take the barbiturate-laced applesauce at 9 a.m. Helen reluctantly agreed to arrive at 10 and do whatever she could if Evie were not yet dead.
As Helen entered the house, Evie was crying. She was frightened and could not take the applesauce alone. She asked Helen to feed it to her. Helen said, “I cannot,” and walked out to sit in her car.
Ten minutes later Evie hobbled to the door using a chair like a walker. She was vomiting. “Please come help me!” she begged. “I don’t want to be trapped in a coma and only partially die. Please come!” Helen walked into the house, fed her the rest of the applesauce, and held Evie until she died.
There’s a good chance Helen was not in church the following Sunday, and no one would know why. Her moral anxiety-provoking event was private.
Neurotic anxiety.
Neurotic anxiety is pain caused by the imagination. Someone may claim, “I don’t go to church because the pastor doesn’t like me.” The feeling might be based on reality, but the chances are it’s neurotic. It’s only in the person’s head.
A man goes into the hospital, doesn’t let you know he’s there, but expects you to visit. Then he gets angry when you don’t. Months later when you do call, you may trace his problem to that hospital stay. The man is convinced you don’t care about him. That’s neurotic anxiety.
We can inadvertently foster neurotic anxiety. For example, a pastor regularly calls on a couple who are potential members. He spends time with them and makes them feel important. All the time they’re thinking, Look at all the personal attention you get from the pastor around here! Then they join the church, and the attention they receive drops almost to zero. They wonder what happened. The pastor has accidentally encouraged unrealistic expectations, which give rise to neurotic anxiety.
Existential anxiety.
Existential anxiety is the feeling brought about by the thought that some day you may not exist, or that even if you do, your life may be meaningless. We hear the refrains, “The church has lost its meaning for me,” “The sermons don’t mean anything anymore, Pastor,” “My kids are bored stiff in church school.”
I visited a family that had been active church members but had dropped out. I learned that when they were preparing for marriage, the pastor said to the bride, “I believe you’re a born-again Christian, but I’m not convinced your fiance is. If you marry him, your first child will die.” I was talking with them six months after their 3-year-old boy had died.
They experienced existential anxiety at its height. Twenty minutes into that conversation, the couple cried as hard as two adults could cry. These tears say something about the nature of the pain encountered when visiting an inactive member.
Beyond event to cluster
The four types of anxiety often affect people in clusters. A man in my congregation lost his job, and the family income plummeted to nothing. His wife, under stress, ended up depressed and in a mental hospital for two weeks. Soon after, this couple-active leaders in our church-were told they were doing an inadequate job as youth leaders and were dismissed. They became angry and quit coming to church.
When a layperson and I visited them some weeks later, the woman was reading a newspaper. She put it down, said hello, and put it right back up. We talked with her husband, and in about five minutes she slammed the paper into her lap. We had before us a red-faced, angry woman.
Inactive people usually mention the last event in the anxiety-provoking cluster first. “We’re just as good of youth leaders as anybody else up at that church!” she informed us. “If we aren’t good enough for that, we aren’t good enough for anything.”
It’s easy to assume that’s the sole or primary issue, but it’s not. The unresolved anxiety of the cluster of events made this final event intolerable. Until we uncover and deal with the original pain of the cluster, even if it happened twenty years ago, people will likely remain outside the church.
We talked for some time with these people. I’m happy to report they did come back to church and eventually accepted new leadership responsibilities.
Main conflict areas
All anxiety arises from some problem. The most common is intra-family conflict. Husband and wife square off on some issue; parents and kids squabble. This kind of conflict is the most consistent characteristic of people who have left the church.
Conflict with pastors is the second most common problem. When pastors avoid dealing with people’s anxiety, the people simply avoid the pastors and their churches.
Family against family, inter-family conflict, is the third arena. It’s the Hatfields against the McCoys; people don’t get along with one another.
Overwork, or at least the feeling of it, presents a fourth problem area. With volunteer church service, too much too soon or too long, with no reward, will drive people from the church.
Suppose you discover a family is having troubles at home, seems to be avoiding you, is feeling disappointed about the way other church members have treated them, and thinks they’re overworked and unrewarded. You will usually find they are experiencing reality, moral, neurotic, or existential anxiety-often simultaneously. Then you can predict the next stage: they cry for help.
The cry
If we learn to hear and respond to people’s cries for help, we can usually prevent their dropping out. Those still crying will respond to our efforts to reach them. But cries don’t last forever. Some cry longer than others, depending on their bond to the congregation, but when the cry goes unanswered, eventually members leave. Then the damage is much greater and more difficult to repair.
A verbal cry for help may sound like this: “I don’t know if I want to continue coming to this church. If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s hypocrites!”
Or it could be more subtle: “You know, all the men but me in our Sunday school class have had promotions at work.”
I worked with a woman in Christian education for two years and never once heard a complaint. Then one day in the midst of a long paragraph she let slip just one sentence: “I’m not sure I can do this job much longer.”
I didn’t say anything right then, but when I saw her the next Sunday morning in the hallway, I said, “Sally, I have a feeling you might be upset about some things in church, particularly in the Christian education area.”
“Can I talk with you this week?” she said.
She came in the following Thursday with all her teaching materials-and unmistakable body language. Even before she sat down, she said, “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, but I’m going to resign.” I listened to her story for an hour and a half, and I heard from her the classic phrase of one who is thinking of leaving: “I don’t want to leave the church. I love the church, but I’m tired.” She was overworked-reality anxiety-so we renegotiated her workload, and she stayed. The key is hearing the story first.
Pastors can respond to cries in one of three ways: First, they can listen and respond to the pain the cry represents. That can be amazingly beneficial.
Second, they can ignore the cry, not realizing how serious it is, until the cry moves into anger. The person gets more agitated and says, “Hey, what do I have to do to get you to hear me? Somebody help me. Can’t you see I’m about to leave the church?”
Third, they can shoot the person with the gospel gun: “What’s the matter with you? Are you losing your faith or something?” That’s a mistake of confusing the symptom for the disease, the behavior for the cause.
But surprisingly, even if we react to the immediate anger rather than the anxiety behind it, we’ll still recover about 80 percent of the people. Even hesitating steps in the right direction can help.
If we miss the verbal cries for help, we at least have a whole string of nonverbal cries to alert us to the problem. The cries for help become behavioral. The person either leaves or begins the process of leaving.
The first behavior change is the leaving of worship. Second, people leave major committees and boards. They either don’t show up or they begin to show up sporadically. Both of these indicators can be seen on an attendance graph. The one who was always there four Sundays a month drops to three to two to only rare appearances. Or the board member makes one or two meetings a year after nearly perfect attendance in past years.
Third, people begin to leave Sunday school. This may vary from denomination to denomination, but most adults have their closest friends in their Sunday school classes. Backing away from friends is a major change. Fourth, the kids are pulled out of Sunday school. The parents decide they don’t even want to bring them, let alone come themselves.
Fifth comes the letter of resignation, and finally, interestingly enough, the pledge is dropped. That’s the final gasp for help, the last commitment to be given up in most denominations.
The sad thing is, these dropouts are hurting. They’ve not only experienced a cluster of anxiety-provoking events, but also are grieving the loss of their church.
Skunks and turtles
In my research, a third of the inactive people we called on had tears running down their cheeks once we dug out the original cluster of pain. Uncovering that hurt caused them to cry before perfect strangers.
But people respond to their pain in different ways. Some begin to blame something external-the church, the pastor. We’ve nicknamed them skunks. When you call on these people, you get sprayed on. It’s what happened to me when the woman slammed the paper into her lap and lashed out at me.
When these people drop out, they wait six to eight weeks and then psychologically seal off the pain and anxiety produced by the original cluster. They back away and by all appearances become apathetic. But the pain of the cluster remains and acts as the block to returning to church. In order to get the person to come back, we must deal with that pain.
After they seal off the pain, people reinvest their time, energy, and money in other pursuits. Half reinvest themselves in the family; they buy tents, trailers, and snowmobiles and go away on the weekend. You visit them and hear, “Our family is just as close to God fishing on the lake as we were back at church with that bunch of snobs.”
The other 50 percent reinvest themselves in other institutions: hospitals, PTA, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, Rotary. So if we call on them, they’ll point their finger at us and say, “I’ve gotten involved with that volunteer ambulance crew. I’m a dispatcher on Sunday mornings. You know, we really help people now.” That’s a skunk speaking.
Another set of dropouts experiences a different emotion: hopelessness. It’s the antithesis of helplessness. It’s the sense of being incapable of generating any inner motivation. As a result, these people withdraw and become inactive. We call them turtles.
Turtles have incredible power to hook other people’s guilt. A turtle’s cry for help might sound like this: “I’m sure you could get Mrs. Green to teach the class. She would do a much better job than I could.” The turtle drops out, waits six to eight weeks, and seals off the pain, much like the skunk. But turtles point the blame internally, toward themselves.
Whether it’s the skunks’ spray or the turtles’ timidity, the various cries for help can be addressed.
Pain listening
So what do we do for these people? We need to teach ourselves and our lay people to hear the pain of inactive people. It helps, too, if we learn how to intervene in the stages leading to inactivity, before the people disappear.
In one church I served we took fifteen minutes at the end of every board meeting for board members to report who, in their estimation, was crying for help. We gave the names to a team of twenty-four trained callers.
I also extended my secretary’s hours so she could stand near me at the door on Sunday mornings to listen for cries for help. She was good at picking them up, and I could inconspicuously indicate others for her to note while I managed the flurry of smiles and handshakes and small talk. By the afternoon, she would alert the calling teams, who would reach out to these people before their cries turned to the silence of absence. Prior to that, I’d often hear several cries on a Sunday morning but fail to remember them or follow up.
When we call on an inactive family, or one heading that direction, chances are strong we’re going to have to deal with anger. The turtles’ anger will make us feel guilty, and the skunks’ anger will make us mad. Since calling on an inactive member is often painful, it’s easy to enter a cycle: People leave because they’re angry; I’m angry because they left; I punish them by letting them sit in their pain; they punish me by not coming back.
That’s where reconciliation must enter. Active members of the church go to an inactive member on behalf of the community in an act of reconciliation. If we are willing to hear some pain with the inactive person, reconciliation will often occur.
Look at what God did. We wouldn’t listen to him, so he made a pastoral call on us and suffered on the cross for us. That kind of self-giving love enabled us to be reconciled to him.
We will not get inactive members back by avoiding pain. We have to take the initiative, go to them, uncover the anxiety-provoking cluster, hear and often bear their pain, then pave the road for them to return.
Ultimately, though, we call, not to get people to come back to church. We call because people are in pain. If they come back as a result of our ministering to their pain, that is good. But if they don’t, we have still reached out to them in the name of Jesus Christ.
John S. Savage is president of L.E.A.D. Consultants, Inc., in Reynoldsburg, Ohio.
1996 by Christianity Today/LEADERSHIP, journal.
Last Updated: October 8, 1996
