Breaking up with the Megachurch

Hi-Church? It's me.... no... me. Listen, I know you are probably busy right now what with managing the hundreds of other attendees, but we need to talk. I'm breaking up with you. I know we've been together for seven years now, but really? We're nothing more than strangers. It's not like I haven't tried to make things work. Small groups. Attempting to serve. Going to prayer. Yet still, I feel like just a number.

I need community. I need people who stay in touch after a small group has ended. I need at least one other person to remember my name and maybe hang out with me in the cafe after service. Truth is? I've been left to do this alone for a long time and my walk has suffered.

I guess it works for some people- those with the right connections to leadership, mostly. I see the instagram feeds and facebook posts from former life group members. I know that for a small percentage of the church it is a vibrant close-knit place. Yet, for some reason, it never expands beyond the "in" group. And it seems that this in group is so tight that they can't see "the others" looking for the same experience.

So I've been feeling left out. Maybe I'm sensitive, or maybe there's something there. My first inkling that something was amiss was when my daughter was invited to something called  "The Core." Until that point, I didn't realize that there was a tiered system of membership. Even though we went through the membership class, regularly attended and tithed, somehow we still hadn't unlocked this achievement. I went to the meeting anyways- almost didn't get past the check-in. It was there that I found out that you counted everything. It's true. I am a number to you.

I just can't do this anymore. Yes, your youth ministry is amazing. The music? Topnotch. And I love the pastor when he's there (which is less and less frequent as he is often jetting off to another speaking engagement.) Even your associate pastors are amazing preachers. But that's just it... they're preachers, not pastors.Pastors know their parishioners. They know when someone in their flock is hurting. I appreciate you praying for me after my suicide attempt, but everyday is still a struggle. Has anyone even asked how I've been? I know it sounds selfish, I don't mean to be. I know it's logistically impossible to keep up on everyone. I suppose that's where the body of Christ is supposed to step in and minister to each other.

The Bible says we are to bear each others' burdens. But what happens when we're so out of touch with one another that we don't even know what that burden is? I've tried connecting. I can't count how many times I have said "hi" to someone only to have them walk on by, or worse, stare at me and then turn away. I've invited people out for coffee and have been met with the sound of crickets.

It's hard to be a sensitive introvert in a church where you have to be an extrovert to survive. I don't want to just survive; I want to thrive. And it's not happening. I love you, but I have to move on. I don't want to be a bitter ex. I wish you well. I'm sure you'd wish the best for me as well, but you won't even realize I'm gone.