Dear Friend Who Has Left the Church

Dear Friend Who Has Left the Church,

I wish I could read this letter to you over a cup of coffee, in the safety of my big wing-back chairs next to the woodstove. Our kids might be playing together upstairs, Legos or dolls or Pictionary, their giggles floating down through the kitchen as we share this moment of closure.

That would feel better, I think, than the way things ended. Sometimes a courtesy email is sent, but so often it’s just… unknown- our goodbye unfulfilled, my mind running through reasons why you left. Doubt, fear, and frustration taking the wheel.

So, dear friend, I write this to you, to those who went before you, and those who will surely follow in the years to come. I write to simply say, I love you so very much. 

Living in this role, this title of “wife of the pastor,” makes friendship fickle. On one hand, my heart aches for authentic, true friends. On the other, I’ve been burned enough times to be tempted towards cynicism. But, to summarize C.S. Lewis, a heart locked up isn’t really alive at all. And so I opened up my fragile heart once again and invited you in. 

Like a drooping flower receiving a fresh spring rain, your friendship helped me bloom. I felt seen, understood, loved, cherished – a connection no lonely pastor’s wife takes for granted. We bonded over tears and laughter. I told you about wounds that carved my life like deep ravines. You confided and reciprocated and held my hand like I could trust you. 

There isn’t always a big scene, a loud and obvious announcement to the end. Sometimes I just see you less and less until someone mentions the new church you’re attending or the city you moved to. Sometimes we run into each other at one of the inevitable small town church overlap events and when I leave with a casual, “See you Sunday!” your eyes tell me that I actually won’t. Sometimes, the worst times, it is big. It is loud. It is ugly. It is one of those break-aparts that might have prompted Paul to write a letter back in the day. 

In the midst of those goodbyes, I find myself asking a lot of hard questions.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why can’t we work this out? 

Who can I trust? 

The answers vary and the situations are all different, but one thing remains the same: I still love you. 

Even if you view me as the villain.

Even if we have theological differences.

Even if you think my husband is wrong. 

Even if the meeting didn’t go the way you wanted it to.

Even if…

I love you from a broken heart. 

I love you because I’ve tasted what the other cup has to offer and bitterness is a slow and painful poison. 

I love you because He first loved me. 

I love you because I hope beyond hope that one day our paths will cross again and we can look at each other with tenderness instead of loathing. 

I can’t help it if you decide to burn the bridge between us. But I can wait there on my side of the bridge, planting flowers and setting a picnic and waiting for the day when maybe you decide to rebuild that bridge and walk on over. I will be there, with open arms, dear friend. 

It isn’t easy. To love and be hated does not feel right with my soul. But I can do it because there is One who walks beside me and shows me how. There is a victorious Advocate who reigns in my heart and moves me to action. There is a Father who waits in eternity promising today is simply a vapor, and the real joy is yet to come. 

These are the truths that spur me on. These are the reasons I can be heartbroken but not hopeless. 

The wounds are too fresh for me to send you this letter, we can’t sit together in my living room, play dates with our kids are over. But my love for you remains. So I will greet you when I see you at the grocery store. I will guard my words from slipping into slander when I talk about you. I will pray for you when God brings you to my mind. 

I hope one day you’ll recognize that love, my friend, my sister. Until then, I pray God’s best for you. I pray for peace and clarity and contentment. I say goodbye with tears, but He says joy comes in the morning. Maybe someday we will have that cup of coffee. 

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.”

Numbers 6:24-26

Grace and peace.