There has been much written about people not returning to church after COVID. The things I have read are mostly from those who returned, lamenting (or judging) those who did not. I am one of those who did not return.
Pre-COVID, I was an every Sunday morning church attender. I rarely get sick, so unless I was travelling, rain, hail or shine would find me in church. And if I was travelling, I would often seek out a local church in the city or town where I travelled to. (This led to an interesting interaction with a minister when I turned up, fresh from the airport with suitcase in tow, and I was assumed to be a local homeless person. But that’s a story for another day.)
I sang in the choir, I participated in a Bible Study when I could. I turned up to and volunteered at church events. I was a regular.
However, even before COVID there was a niggling feeling that I wasn’t quite like everyone else. See, I didn’t have a car both by choice and financial necessity, so I caught public transport to a church where most everyone else had quite a new model car. I was public school educated in a congregation which was mainly private school educated. I spoke about my struggles with mental health in a congregation that seemed to have no issues with mental health, or at least none they were willing to talk about. I was also twenty years younger than most everyone else and my frame of cultural references was vastly different to those around me.
The difference between me and them was made clear to me one day before church, when we were in the vestry dressed in our choir robes waiting for the service to begin, and some one said about a movie “it’s for people like us” and I wondered what were ‘people like us’ and if I really fit into that category.
I live in Victoria, Australia which was one of the places where the highest restrictions were in place during COVID. I don’t live in Melbourne, so I didn’t suffer the worst of them, however we did have long periods when there were restrictions on meeting together, including church services. During this time, my church pivoted to meeting via Zoom.
It was great to see the familiar faces and hear people talking. I also enjoyed online communion – much to my surprise. There was much talk about how Zoom-church was accessible for people who couldn’t join in physically, whether because they were ill or injured, or in a nursing home, or anything else. Zoom-church was inclusive and there was much energy expended making sure it was inclusive through teaching the less tech-savvy members how to connect to Zoom and participate in the service.
However, when restrictions were lifted there was a rush to get back to ‘normal.’ Zoom-church changed to livestreaming. Announcements were made about how it was great to be back. Sensory worship happened and we were told about things we received when we walked in the door. Except of course if you were joining online and did not walk through the door…..and weren’t back in the building……and suddenly went from a participatory experience to watching a show. Inclusion, it seemed, was only important when no one was allowed in church. It was an optional extra when things returned to normal.
In some ways there was nothing stopping me returning. Well, that is, if you don’t count my anxiety. I have lived with anxiety for a number of years now. Most of the time it is under control, but there are times when it makes life physically uncomfortable. I am not a germ-a-phobe and COVID had made me aware that I could be the carrier of a disease that could easily kill the many vulnerable old people in the congregation. I didn’t want to carry that responsibility and so I continued to ‘attend’ online.
Almost every week there was a reminder that the welcome principally was for people in the room, that normal meant turning up in person, and that worshipping via livestream (and those who participated that way) was an optional extra. I did turn up one week, but the effort to manage my anxiety in that space meant that it was not a very satisfactory experience.
Slowly, it became easier to disconnect – both within the livestreamed worship and then with worship in general. My absence didn’t seem to be missed. And my comments about the disconnection I felt through the comments about normality and in-person attendance were dismissed. Finding a new church and doing the getting-to-know-you thing again all felt a bit hard, so I have basically disconnected.
Sometime ago I realised that I needed three things in a church, however I could probably cope with any two of them. Good preaching, good music, and loving community.
As a biblical scholar, I connect with theology through my work often at quite develop and technical levels, so I don’t miss the sermons that so often did not challenge or connect with me. As a musician, I have always loved sacred music and this means that when I desire musical worship now, I connect through my vast Christian music collection. And I have developed different forms of community that feel more real than the often-forced connections at church.
So, why would I go back? What could the church offer? What should the church offer? And, when will they understand that shaming my absence probably isn’t the most attractive way to entice me to return?
WIT 
Dear gods.
I’m so sorry that you had to go through all that. A church shaming you…It’s possible that that church was never a good fit anyway, which I think you were hinting at in this post. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. I’m restraining myself from using the foul language in my head to describe what I think of their treatment of you.
Without knowing which denomination of Christian church you attend, I attend a UU church in Tallahassee, Florida. I’m a UU pagan and have even given a lay-led service about my Kemetic faith.
Post-COVID, my church invested in an expensive sound system and switched to livestreaming our services on Vimeo with a Zoom social hour after the service. In person, there is always a period of social time on the veranda, with refreshments offered, places to sit, and the lovely grounds to admire. We have tried to continue to make our services accessible because we’ve noticed people attending virtually who have not been seen physically in a while and want to keep them engaged.
As for your mental health concerns, I’m sorry that you were being so isolated. In my church, we regularly have a period of Joys and Concerns in our services. A book is in the church that people can write their joys and concerns for the week, and online folks can enter theirs in the Vimeo chat. We regularly have people share about the ups and downs of their lives: lost loved ones, work and other challenges, etc. I’d like to think that you would have been treated differently in my church.
This is sounding like a plug for UU churches. I’m sorry if I’m being offensive; that’s not my intention. It is my intention to gently lift up that there are alternatives to the church you were attending. I’m not sure if all UU churches do the Joys and Concerns thing, though. This is the only UU church I’ve ever attended. My experience as a Catholic was different, but that was when I was growing up too.
You mention that you’ve now developed different forms of community, so hopefully you’re in a better place overall. Either way, my best wishes to you.
Too many of us are hurt by churchianity called Christianity. I’ve fallen out of church too for some of the same reasons and for some of my own. I still long for the things you describe as needing from church, what I need most is fellowship. I’m now at the point where I accept this time outside of fellowship as part of God’s Will for me. I think there were things He wanted me to work on one-on-one with Him and I’ve learned I don’t need church to feel close to God. Then I think of Jesus and how he visited the synagogues to minister to the religious and I’m coming to understand that religiosity is a sin that requires compassion too. So I am planning on looking for a church with with the attitude of ministering to those who have a form of religion but deny the power of it. We’ll see how that goes. Jesus said of religious leaders to do as they say and not as they do and that I will use for my rule of thumb. God bless and keep you, always.