How do you grieve a church you love?

Moving forward into a deeper, embodied faith

On Pentecost, my family and I walked into the doors of a brand new (to us) church for the first time in more than thirteen years.

We were there for a visit, and a very important one. This visit was to be the first official step in our decision to leave the only church home we’ve ever known in our married and family life, and we felt buzzy with nerves and anticipation as we walked into an unfamiliar space—and tradition.

Our current church, which I have written about with joy on many occasions, was not meeting over Memorial Day weekend, so the timing couldn’t have been more ideal. As I readied myself in the bathroom that morning, I felt a sense of sad relief that Decatur City Church would be quiet in our absence while we worshipped across town in another sanctuary.

Many months ago, I began to experience a restlessness in my spirit, an understanding that change was on the horizon and that God, in His infinite wisdom and love for us, was calling our family to something different. Something (and this is not a criticism) deeper. Curiosity, rather than any real conviction, sent me down a rabbit trail of theological study, in which I devoured all the content I could find on topics that—as a lifelong evangelical—had seemed largely peripheral up until then: the sacramentality of communion, views on baptism, soteriology, Church history and organization, and more. I discovered that Scripture had a lot to say on these matters. So did other Christians, many of whom I was seeking to hear from directly for the first time in my life. There was a thrill in learning more about the faith I’ve walked in since the age of seven, but alongside that thrill came this earnest, slightly terrified prayer:

“Please, God, do not ask us to leave our church.”

Isn’t it funny how we pray to be relieved of the very obedience we know, or at least suspect, will prove to be the most fruitful in our lives? It can be so hard to step into it. Not always because the future is unknown, but because we can often see exactly what such obedience will require of us. I knew what I was really asking.

Please don’t make me walk away from what I love, God.

Please don’t ask us to leave what is safe, known, and comfortable.

Meanwhile, Pierce was slowly articulating his own thoughts with me as each and every Sunday we drove home from church with the growing understanding that the time was drawing close for us to make a decision. I cried during worship for the grief of it. Once, I had to step out of the sanctuary to go calm down in the bathroom. My body was finally catching up to what the Spirit had been telling me for months.

We would leave Decatur City Church, and soon.

There’s a strange peace, a supernatural peace, that comes in the wake of obedience. It doesn’t remove the sadness, or the discomfort, or the tension; we have to learn how to walk with those friends and welcome them along for the journey. But peace is available to lead the way, as promised when “by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, [you] present your requests to God.” (Phil. 4:6, NIV)

I felt fear in learning to surrender, but in the surrendering found freedom. If you had asked me at Christmas if I thought we’d ever leave our church, I would have laughed. We love Decatur City, and the entire trajectory of our marriage and family culture has been forever altered by the blessing of being a part of that congregation. Leaving is naturally going to take some grieving, even when it’s the right choice.

Pierce and I began our membership with Northpoint Ministries (all seven Atlanta campuses, plus our satellite churches, fall under this umbrella) in 2010. We started attending Buckhead Church first, a massive modern campus in the heart of Atlanta’s uptown neighborhood. It was the go-to location for members of Northpoint who were young, working professionals, both single and married. Pierce and I spent five years there, fully invested in volunteering and leading small groups. (Besides being pivotal to the health of the church, this was the primary way to get fully connected in a campus that size.) We eventually became leaders in the high school ministry, roles we committed to for the entirety of our students’ high school careers. In 2014, we voted to open a campus on the east side of the city, in Decatur. This was where Pierce and I lived and were new parents at that time. When the Decatur campus opened, we made the switch.

For thirteen years, we have faithfully served our local church and, by extension, our community. And it has faithfully served us, too. It would take a whole series of posts to describe the impact Decatur City (and Buckhead) Church have had on us. Our children have grown up discipled within its walls. Some of our dearest friendships started in small groups. When my book came out in 2020, our former campus pastor invited me on stage to speak about my experience living with a mental illness as a woman of faith. We have witnessed the Body of Christ living boldly and faithfully, and we have been equipped by it to do the same. If you look at Decatur City’s website, or find a seat in the sanctuary on Sunday morning, you’ll quickly discover that their mission as a church is to lead people into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ.

They do it beautifully.

And they’ve done it so beautifully that in order for Pierce and I to faithfully continue growing and stewarding our family, it means we have to say goodbye.

I might write more on each of these at a later date, but here are the main reasons why we feel a departure is necessary. Pierce and I have differing levels of concern for each, but are in agreement about all of them:

1. Communion/Eucharist/The Lord’s Supper

Our campus does not regularly participate in the sacrament of communion. It is done quarterly at larger campuses, usually at Night of Worship where many people can be served at once. This is a common practice for many low church Protestant denominations where communion is viewed as important, but merely symbolic.

In my study of the Gospels, particularly in John chapter 6, I see more than just a symbol in the bread and wine. (Or grape juice.) I hear Jesus’ words that His flesh and blood are life, an avenue of grace necessary for our living as faithful Christians. I hear Him command us on the night before His death to take and eat, and to do it regularly lest we forget how He offered Himself up for us as a living sacrifice. I don’t view the Eucharist as an option for me to choose or leave behind as I see fit; I see it as a command from my King. In response, we are compelled to seek out a church that views communion in the same sacramental way.

(In terms of how we interpret Christ’s presence in the bread and wine, I am not convinced of the Catholic view of transubstantiation, but I do believe in His real and active presence in the supper even if the “how” remains a mystery. I also remain open to the fact that I may be wrong and could be convicted of a different view as I continue to study and seek wisdom from the Holy Spirit.)

2. Style of Preaching

In many nondenominational churches, topical preaching is the order of the day. Typically, sermons are broken down into a series of messages preached on a particular topic (for example: finances or handling difficult relationships) over the course of a few weeks. At our church, the series topic is supported by one specific passage of Scripture that is discussed in its biblical and cultural context to be applied to our modern daily lives. For new believers or people who are returning to church, topical preaching is often more welcoming, digestible, and accessible. Our senior pastor, Andy Stanley, is brilliant at this type of preaching and we have learned so much from him about how to be faithful Christians in a postmodern world.

Where this topical approach has begun to break down for us, though, is in the reality that we have simply outgrown what it offers to us as long-time believers. Our church has an important mission to be “a place that unchurched people love to attend.” It is a place for people to ask questions without shame, learn or re-learn who Jesus actually is, and connect with other believers.

That was enough to disciple us for a long season of our life, but now it means that Pierce and I have reached the point where we have not learned anything new in a long while. We are seeking deeper study in the sanctuary. Quite simply, we want to know and be led deep into the Word of God. While the local church is definitely not responsible for our personal commitment to engage with Scripture at home, it is important that we are able to look to the church for continued spiritual guidance and authority beyond topical matters.

Which leads me to my next point…

3. Orthodoxy, Liturgy, & History

While certainly modern, Decatur City does hold to orthodoxy in terms of Jesus’ divinity, the nature of the Trinity, and the authority of Scripture. Still, there is some clarification on second-tier issues that we would’ve liked to see from our church and have not. As these issues are not core doctrine, and considering Decatur City’s mission, we understand why. Our personal feeling at this point, however, is that clarity is kindness.

Moving from there, one of my frustrations with evangelical Christianity in America is that it has a short memory and a general lack of sacramentality. What I mean is that we have a habit of dismissing the value of Church history and tradition as if neither of those things should inform the way we function. But in his first letter to Timothy, after giving detailed instructions and qualifications for different members of the organized church, Paul writes,

“If I am delayed, you will know how people ought to conduct themselves in God’s household, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and foundation of the truth.” (1 Timothy 3:15, NIV, emphasis mine)

The Church is meant to be the pillar and foundation of the truth, which means the history of the Church matters (and not just the last few hundred years). The function and organization of the Church matters. The creeds that were agreed upon in the earliest centuries of the Church matter. To me, these are not just issues of preference. Instead, they appear rather crucial for the healthy functioning of the Body of Christ.

We are longing to experience an embodied faith tradition, a place where more than just the mind is engaged in worship, prayer, and community. How can we deeply experience the grace of God in our actual bodies, bodies that matter deeply to Him? There are denominations that embrace both evangelism and liturgy—rooted as they are in thousands of years of Church history—and that level of engagement between the body and spirit, the pastor and the congregation, the local church and the universal Church, is vital for us.

4. Celebrity, Idolatry, and Fun Churches

This final piece builds on my previous statement. Mega churches, simply by the nature of what they are, do not lend themselves to great intimacy between leaders and congregants. This is why small groups are so highly encouraged; pastors are aware of the connection difficulty, and at our church they go to great lengths to make space for people to be in community with each other. As I detailed above, our family has experienced so much joy in those spaces and we are incredibly grateful for the work that goes into creating them. But we want to go smaller. We want to be known not only by the members of the congregation but by our pastors, as well.

Of greater hardship for me personally has been my own tendency to idolize teachers I admire and respect, Andy Stanley being one of them. The moment I realized one of the reasons I didn’t want to leave Decatur City is because I would miss being a member of Andy Stanley’s church was a big red flag. I almost felt the Spirit shout It’s not Andy’s church, beloved.

But, gosh, it’s FUN there. Our memories of such fun are innumerable. Every Northpoint campus knows how to have a good time, and I don’t think there is anything wrong in enjoying your church and having a laugh, a big, loud worship session, or a taco truck in the parking lot one Sunday afternoon. God is not boring, after all; HOWEVER, it is far too easy to begin treating church as if it is meant to entertain us, and that’s just not why the Church exists.

When our daughter told us she was afraid any new church we attended wouldn’t be fun, it drove home this point for us. Now, she’s nine. Of course she wants church to be fun. When you’re a kid, fun is the endgame! But as parents and leaders of our home, we have to be careful not to carry a consumer mindset into our sanctuaries or pass that thinking along to our children. It’s a tricky balance in a culture like ours and I’m sure it’s hard for churches everywhere who are trying to keep their congregations engaged. I’m simply highlighting a challenge I’m sure we will continue to face and need to be thoughtful about, no matter where we end up.

To that end, I have nothing but respect, gratitude, and an endless amount of love for Northpoint Ministries and every single person we have encountered in our time as members. (If you knew how many times I’ve choked up just writing this post…) Knowing that we are nearing the end of calling Decatur City our home makes me want to ugly cry. I don’t know how to do this well, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe leaving a good thing is meant to be hard. Maybe grief isn’t just understandable, but appropriate.

As I told Lucy when we first started talking about the possibility of leaving, I will always champion our first church home and its doors will always be open to her. Our lives were made fuller, our faith made deeper, and our family knit stronger because of how God moved, and still moves, through His Body there. Leaving doesn’t mean that becomes untrue.

So, friend, if you ever find yourself in Atlanta and in need of a new church home, I hope you’ll find your way through Decatur City’s doors. You will be most welcome.

As for us, we move forward with great faith into an unknown future.