The invisible church

New research reveals that 44% of the population of the Highlands and Islands consider themselves to be Christians, but never attend church. The authoritative, on-going research project, led by Steve Aisthorpe, the Church of Scotland’s Mission Development Worker (North) further reveals that of these Christians out-with the visible church, the great majority formerly attended church, in some cases for over 20 years.

Just as in a church congregation, the extent to which faith affects daily lives varies in this huge ‘invisible church’ community, but many remain deeply committed. Though they may be disappointed with church, 72% are not disappointed with God.

These are stunning figures. We are told we are living in a secular society, yet adding together those who attend church and those who don’t, over half of us have a Christian allegiance.

The research also challenges churches. We believe that a church is a God-inspired community where Christians can be nurtured, challenged, supported and inspired to change the world. What’s going wrong that so many of us opt out of the visible church?

35% of those surveyed said that the left church ‘due to changes within me.’ It’s this group I most empathise with. For many years I tried hard to engage with churches, but didn’t feel I belonged. I did not have the spiritual experiences I was led to believe were normal. I didn’t sense that honest, deep and disturbing questions about faith and the Bible were encouraged. ‘You’re not a liberal?’ a pastor asked me, anxiously.

Songs and hymns did not touch or engage me, although I assented to the words; sermons rarely captured my imagination or addressed my heart. An introvert in an environment where extrovert seemed to be the norm, I found refuge, nurture and nourishment alone in a quiet corner with a book.

I used busyness in church as a way of seeking meaning and significance. I ran church bookstalls. I accepted leadership roles, ‘helping my friends do church’ as I put it, while increasingly realising that my heart was not in it.

Eventually I faced the fact that I simply wasn’t being true to myself. It was time to ‘get real,’ to ‘come out’ as our gay friends put it, to admit that I’m me, and don’t fit into a traditional church structure. In ‘getting real’ I found a great freedom.

That’s my story. Every Christian who doesn’t attend church will have their own. Is this withdrawal from church a symptom of excessive 21st century individualism and distrust of institutions? Surely the heart of Christian faith is the fact that in Christ we are set free to be our authentic selves? Have church leaders sometimes, in all innocence, sought to make clones of themselves rather than assisting people in their journey of becoming?

Steve Aisthorpe’s non-judgemental report highlights the need for change – in the culture of individual churches, in the range and styles of church available.  It emphasises the pastoral responsibility of churches to care, to journey with people, to model divine love to those who are disappointed with God but cling to faith.

For in fact, whether we belong to a visible church, all Christian believers are part of the one great community of God’s people.

While finding church difficult, I was blessed throughout my journey not just by books, but by the love of people who cared about me. Today I deeply appreciate friends who love me, whom I can bounce ideas off and be accountable to. ‘Thanks for giving me permission to be me,’ I said to a friend the other week. ‘You don’t need my permission,’ he responded. And yet his acceptance of the real me as it slowly emerges gives me confidence to spread my butterfly wings.

Having withdrawn from church, I now find myself re-engaging. I attend Hilton Church in Inverness, and am blessed through being part of it although, still needing space, I am not deeply involved.

The other Sunday Duncan Macpherson the minister reminded us that as Christians, no matter how strong or how weak our faith, no matter how much we struggle, our fundamental identity lies in our being God’s beloved children. I love that gracious inclusivity in which you sense the divine love which embraces us all on our journeying.

At lunchtimes, I sometimes pop across to Inverness Cathedral. At the Ask Wednesday service, the Provost, Alex Gordon made the sign of the cross on our foreheads, repeating over each of us in soft, gentle, wistful syllables ‘From dust you came and to dust you shall return.’ It was somehow affirming.

This journey, from dust to dust is the journey we are all on, and as Steve Aisthorpe reminds us, we need to find ways of being to our fellow-travellers what they need us to be.

(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News dated 20th March 2014)