When I discuss my recent memoir, Where the Light Fell, often I use the phrase toxic church to describe the extreme form of Southern fundamentalism I grew up under. I joke that I’ve been “in recovery,” a process of detoxing, ever since.
“Tell me,” asked one podcast interviewer, “What makes a church toxic?” Three characteristics immediately came to mind.
FEAR. Memories of church from my youth summon up feelings of fear and shame. It was hard to hear the gospel as good news when most sermons centered on sin and hell. Over the decades, churches have played on many fears: a Catholic president (JFK), Armageddon, communism, the Great Tribulation, Y2K, AIDS, secular humanism, homosexuals, socialism, the New World Order, COVID-19. Some of these fears have proved legitimate, but others border on conspiracy theories.
“Perfect love drives out fear,” says 1 John 4:18. A healthy church does not use scare tactics to manipulate emotions. Nor does it deny that we will face frightening situations. Rather, it directs fearful people toward a trustworthy God. The Psalms and the Prophets demonstrate the pattern clearly: again and again, a people facing catastrophe are reminded of a God who is not anxious. “Be still and know that I am God,” Psalm 46 advises, even when nations are in uproar and mountains are quaking.
Yes, we should battle injustice and respond to tragedy, but from a position of calm compassion. The world is still reeling from a pandemic that has affected nearly everyone on the planet. I have talked to pastors who describe congregations torn apart by anger and fear over vaccines and masks. Is this the best we can do in representing the One whom the apostle Paul describes as “the God of all comfort, the Father of compassion”?
EXCLUSION. My boyhood church in Atlanta stationed deacons at the door to turn away as “troublemakers” any people of color who tried to attend. Thank God, our society has moved beyond that kind of overt, legalized racism—and yet bias persists in other forms.
The apostle Paul, once a Pharisee who would not deign to touch a Gentile, slave, or woman, laid down this firm principle after his conversion: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” In one fell swoop, he dismantled the walls separating race, class, and gender. Nonetheless, the church has never stopped struggling with these very issues.
“If you want to grow in love, the way to do it is not likely going to be by attending more Bible studies or prayer meetings; it will happen by getting close to people who are not like you,” writes the Canadian pastor Lee Beach. Grace gets tested when we find ourselves confronted with people who are different from us. Do we welcome them? I think of the people attracted to—and received by—Jesus: “heretics” (Samaritan women), foreigners (a Roman officer), outcasts (prostitutes, tax collectors, the disabled, those with leprosy).
I know of no churches who would actively exclude someone of a different race or social class, but I know many churches that just “happen” to comprise people of the same class, race, and political persuasion. What kind of welcome would a homeless person or immigrant receive in such a congregation? Perhaps in reaction to my racist upbringing, now when I walk into a new church, the more its members resemble each other, and resemble me, the more uncomfortable I feel.
RIGIDITY. Church rigidity can take many forms. In extreme cases, an authoritarian pastor can create a near-cultic atmosphere. A series of popular podcasts produced by Christianity Today traces the rise and fall of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, which Mark Driscoll led to explosive growth, only to see it implode under his abusive style. A psychologist friend of mine who has studied pastors estimates that 80 percent of them have strong narcissistic tendencies. Why not? We elevate them, literally, on platforms, and assign them the lofty task of telling us what to believe and how to behave.
All too often, narcissistic leaders focus on minor points of doctrine and miss the main message, of God’s boundless love for estranged human beings. John’s gospel describes Jesus as “full of grace and truth.” Rigid churches tilt heavily toward the “truth” side of that balance scale, often piling on rules of behavior that the Bible never mentions.
Once again, the apostle Paul shows a more flexible style. “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free,” he declared to the Galatians, vehemently opposing those who insisted that Jesus-followers undergo the Jewish practice of circumcision. Yet he voluntarily took a strict ritual vow (Acts 18, 21) in order to identify with Jewish believers. Similarly, depending on the spiritual maturity of the church he was addressing, he modified his counsel on such issues as pagan holidays and eating meat that had been offered to idols.
Paul summarized his approach: “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.” He knew which theological and ethical issues to emphasize and which ones to minimize. Rigidity over minor disagreements, he viewed as a serious threat to church unity. The existence of some 54,000 denominations in the world indicates that not everyone has followed Paul’s style.
A Healthy Church…
In the last full night with his disciples, Jesus set out a formula for healthy church leadership (John 13-17). First, he got up from the meal and washed their feet, much to their discomfort. He demonstrated that good leaders don’t cling to privilege narcissistically. Quite the opposite: they serve the very ones they lead.
Next, Jesus gave a paramount command that overcomes exclusion: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
Finally, he prayed for unity—not only for the disciples but for everyone in history who would follow him. Nothing would bear a more powerful witness to his message. In his prayer, Jesus said, “Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”
Service, love, unity—Jesus named these as primary marks of his followers. Have you ever asked a stranger, “When I say the word Christian or evangelical, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?” I have, and not once, not once, have I heard anyone answer with one of those three words.
A few times I have visited a megachurch in a tiered auditorium. As I look at the spotlighted stage below, I feel as if I’m at an NBA game, with 10,000 spectators cheering ten professionals on the court. It strikes me, that’s the opposite of a biblical view of church. Worshipers gather together not as spectators to be entertained, but as active participants. While toxins work their way into the church seemingly without effort, a healthy church will require the vigilance of all its members.
Meanwhile, the real audience sits outside, waiting to see if we truly represent Jesus through our acts of service, love, and unity.
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DURING THE PANDEMIC, MOST ALL CHURCHES COMPLIED WITH THE SHUT-DOWN ORDERS. BUT ONLY A DEFIANT FEW CHOSE TO CONTINUE THEIR OPEN DOOR CALLING, EVEN SUBMITTING TO ARREST.
I CAN’T IMAGINE JESUS SAYING TO HIS FOLLOWERS OR TO THOSE HE’S TRYING TO SAVE, THAT FOR THE NEXT MONTH OR WEEK YOU CAN’T COME NEAR ME OR MY HOUSE OF PRAYER.
YES, THERE’S “ZOOM” AND THE INTERNET, BUT THE ELDERLY AND THE LOST SOULS ARE TOTALLY DISCONNECTED, AREN’T THEY?
PLEASE PROVIDE YOUR VIEWS AND HELP ME UNDERSTAND.
ALEX
OUT ! ! ! STANDING ! ! !
Thank you Philip for bringing this to the front.
I too was raised in the COC cult. No bible was allowed but the King James version.
What I realized as time went on is we didn’t go by what Jesus said, but what Paul the lawyer said. How many time we heard this is what Jesus said but go to here in your bibles and see what Jesus really meant by this. Finally it became obvious that we were making Jesus seem stupid and could not make himself clear.
I like so many others finally left and will always regret how we preached we were the only ones on earth going to heaven.
Today that is why the COC is dying and I am glad for it.
Phillip, I am an Executive Coach and Facilitator who has worked with churches for a few years now. What you describe is so true. I find that this toxicity can flow from both ordained and lay leaders. The common root seems to be a desire to control rooted in a sense of ownership. I keep my ears open for language like “MY church” or “we built [funded] this church X years ago” because these phrases, I find, are frequently an indicator of a fearful desire for control.
Fifteen years ago I was convicted on felony charges. I confessed my crime. I did my time. I paid what I owed. My daughter forgave me before she died in 2015. I believe that the Lord has shown me mercy and compassion. I am moving forward.
Many churches seem unable to do so. After my “time served,” I spent three years in weekly, then monthly, reports at the probation office. Waiting in the foyer, we would often compare our stories. Where did we do time? How long we been out? And so forth.
Church came up much more often than you might think.
“Oh, you’re welcome in church,” one African-American nodded. “So long as you don’t got no dignity.”
“Yeah, they seem to want me to grovel,” I said. “It doesn’t seem to matter how long it’s been.”
“You the felon,” he said. “You keep your place, you okay. The minute you anything else, they shut you down.”
I have attended many churches over the years. Alas, my crime was well publicized and so is easy to find for those who value Internet searches over the man in front of them. Inevitably, much to the pain of my wife, sooner or later, each church has found ways to assure us that we are welcome while simultaneously hinting that we most assuredly are not. One church even went to the trouble of cancelling the bible study group we attended, informing us via telephone—then restarting the group two weeks later without us.
In 2019, I attended services with my sister the day after my father’s funeral. A man stood up to speak. Twelve years earlier he had been convicted on felony charges. As he spoke, he wept openly that the church had not turned him away. My sister held up his example of a reformed soul.
I didn’t see it that way. Twelve years ago he made a terrible mistake and he paid for it. For twelve long years, he has groveled, begged, cap-in-hand, for scraps from the table of communion and joy. Here I pause. Twelve years and still he feels constrained to grovel.
How much is enough? Less than we seem to think.
After I was released, I spoke with a beloved, devout aunt on the phone. “How long has it been,” she asked, delighted. “Five years?” I told her that it had been a while.
“Well, you confessed and that’s that,” she said, moving onto another topic. “How are you NOW?”
I, yes I, am the one who blots out your offenses for my own sake; I will not remember your sins.
—Isaiah 43:25