Toxic. Abusive. Oppressive. Unhealthy.
I’d never heard those words used so often as I even have within the last 4 years. At times, it has appeared like everyone I do know is deciding to handle conflict with friends, colleagues, and churches by deciding to depart.
Maybe a few of it is a generational shift as younger generations embrace the concept of “breaking the cycle,” or perhaps a few of it stems from how the COVID-19 pandemic led a lot of us to reassess our lives. And nowhere has the pattern been clearer than on social media, where people have filmed themselves leaving their jobs, written posts torching the churches they’re exiting, and shared video diaries explaining how a breakup would help them heal.
For many, leaving has change into the gold standard of mental health—and staying has change into suspect, perhaps even delusional.
Leaving and staying, though, are neutral terms. Leaving isn’t inherently good, and staying isn’t inherently bad. We need to higher examine the ways wherein we’re doing each. Instead of leaving (or staying) by default, we want to learn to pursue healing, accountability, repentance, forgiveness, and endurance.
Let me start with a vital caveat: If you’re in a church, organization, or relationship that’s hurting you, leaving may possibly be the proper alternative. It’s not possible to provide universal advice here, but I’m not suggesting that anyone live under abuse. In a big organization, if a domineering leader isn’t even available to speak, let alone repent if needed, it likely is sensible to depart outright.
My concern here is the more ambiguous situations, the situations where we too often make decisions based on our imagination and assumptions reasonably than on love, truth, and conversation that seeks clarity.
In general, as believers, we’re called to be agents of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:18) who, by God’s Spirit, seek to cultivate healthy and clear communication and relationships. That’s what Jesus urges when he twice commands us (Matt. 5:23–24; 18:15–20) to refer to and be reconciled with people whom we now have offended or who’ve offended us.
It might be overwhelming to speak through our feelings and confusion, yet it’s essential that we follow this command with a posture of openness. We should be able to ask and wrestle with hard questions. If you’re going to have a conversation that seeks clarity, for instance, have you ever considered that there could also be something recent you’ll learn in regards to the other person and even yourself? You may find that the opposite person or organization wasn’t the one “toxic” a part of the situation.
Conversation can’t bring us to clarity or reconciliation if we live within the presumption of our own perpetual innocence. “As it’s written: ‘There is not any one righteous, not even one’” (Rom. 3:10).
We can also’t reach clarity or reconciliation if the conversation never happens. Living in that unresolved tension can damage our mental, emotional, and spiritual health. We may begin to live with a chorus of opponents in our minds or lose our ability to attach emotionally with others. Jesus told us to reconcile before we come to worship (Matt. 5:23–24) and even warned that “in the event you don’t forgive others their sins, your Father is not going to forgive your sins” (Matt. 6:15).
On the opposite side of the connection, once we walk away from people and leave them clueless or confused about our concerns, we place a heavy burden on them. They may feel like they were only a resource for use and quickly discarded. (I can’t lie; I’m still not over the indisputable fact that individuals who had me on speed dial for emergencies one 12 months lost my number the subsequent.)
“If it is feasible, so far as it is determined by you, live at peace with everyone” (Rom. 12:18), and “in humility value others above yourselves, not trying to your individual interests but each of you to the interests of the others” (Phil. 2:3–4). That may require having difficult conversations about complex truths for the sake of the opposite person.
Those conversations won’t necessarily end in agreement. Reconciliation and agreement aren’t the identical. Years ago, at a church I pastored, a key member had different goals for the congregation than I did. He said, “Pastor, you will have a vision, and I even have a vision, and two visions create division.” We disagreed, nevertheless it was such a relief to have him conclude that he was entering into a unique spiritual direction without demonizing me or others in leadership.
That variety of disagreement might result in a sort of reconciled leaving. But in the event you resolve to remain, that may produce good fruit too. I’ve seen people stay and proceed the conversation well. They fought for change in love, sought clarity, and, over time, were in a position to create a healthier environment through prayer and clarified relationships. And whether we leave or stay, we now have an obligation to practice gratitude and bless others as our heavenly Father has so graciously blessed us.
Lastly, once we pursue clarity, we construct endurance in our souls. We can “glory in our sufferings,” Romans 5:3–4 says, “because we all know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”
The passage begins in suffering but ends in hope—and that’s the fruit of endurance. You get to see the opposite side of suffering by going through the trials and tensions of life with people. You see fruit years later from patiently talking through wounds with others. When we provide our suffering, pain, and trials in relationships and organizations to Jesus, he gives us his strength to endure (2 Thess. 2:16–17). We can learn to reject the false hope that broken people could ever provide us with ultimate peace and as a substitute come to have true hope in Jesus.
James Roberson entered college ministry in 1999, later earning a level from Southeastern Seminary. Committed to social justice, he has tackled issues like youth empowerment, AIDS, substance abuse, and domestic violence and has played a key role in planting churches across multiple states. He founded and pastors The Bridge Church in Brooklyn, where he resides together with his wife Natarsha and three daughters.
