Photo: Toa Heftiba – Unsplash

The sting of exclusion and the craving for inclusion are universal.

Dane Ortlund, Surprised by Jesus

There are many experiences that we share in our common humanity. One such thing is that we all live with past experiences of rejection and exclusion. This could be at a very low level – a person ignoring us at a gathering; an email we considered important being overlooked. Or it can be at very high level – a spouse leaving their partner; one family member cutting off all contact with another.

I have recently been led to consider some of my own past experiences of rejection. These began at secondary school, and have continued on and off over the years. Most recently they have been experienced through various people leaving our church as a result of the February 2023 General Synod vote; and then being effectively told in the Synod chamber in November 2023 that there are many who would prefer it I and others who hold my views weren’t in the Church of England at all.*

Now of course, it’s important to distinguish between feelings of rejection and actual rejection. We can feel that we have been rejected or excluded by another person when in reality they have no such intention. Such is the complexity of relationships! We can also find that experiences of rejection and exclusion build up a store of bitterness and anxiety within us such that we find ourselves expecting to be rejected.

A few months ago I experienced symptoms of burnout. In God’s kindness and through some counselling he brought to light such an expectation in my own heart, built on past perceptions of rejection. Whilst considering these things, I have also been led to consider ways in which I have been guilty of rejecting and excluding others. Sometimes this had been deliberate; sometimes it has been unconscious. Sometimes a person has felt excluded by me when I didn’t intend to exclude them. I have had to say sorry to God, and to consider whether there are others to whom I need to apologise for my treatment of them.

General Synod: Stories of rejection

Why do I share these things? And what do they have to do with the General Synod of the Church of England?  It seems to me that the themes of rejection and exclusion were close to the heart of the Living in Love and Faith debate at the November 2023 Group of Sessions. In speech after speech rejection and exclusion were mentioned, explicitly or implicitly. Perhaps most commonly, there were those who had felt excluded from the Church of England as a result of a same-sex relationship. Then there were those who had felt excluded by certain sub-groups in the Church of England as a result of other issues – most notably remarriage after divorce, and the ordination of women into the priesthood or episcopate. Finally, there were those (including myself) who feel excluded by the current apparent direction of travel of the Church of England, and who wonder whether there will be any place for us going forwards.

A way forward

During my period of counselling after the symptoms of burnout, I had the opportunity to retell and reassess my experiences of rejection and exclusion. I was able to sift through the emotions, the things that had happened and my responses to them. I was able to discern what constituted real rejection; and what was more accurately described a perception of rejection. I was able to discern what real rejection I might need to confront and forgive. Wonderfully, I was also able to embrace my loving heavenly Father in a new and deeper way, and found that as I did so the ‘store’ of bitterness and anxiety (which I hadn’t even been aware of previously) was completely healed and removed. A few months later it’s completely gone, thanks be to God!

As I left General Synod in November I found myself wondering whether the same needs to happen in the Church of England: whether we all need to have the opportunity to share our stories of rejection and exclusion with each other; whether as we do so we might find some measure of healing; whether we might find it within ourselves to forgive and ask for forgiveness.

I have recently been reading the wonderful book ‘A witness forever’ by Michael Cassidy. It is the story of South Africa in the years 1990-1994, and in particular it recounts the role of the church and Christians in the crucial period when civil war seemed inevitable. One of the most significant activities were the gatherings of opposing leaders at Kolobe. They were invited for a weekend away to get to know each other as human beings, to laugh, to cry, to share life, and to understand each other’s stories. There are wonderful accounts of previously hardened leaders breaking down in tears as they ask for forgiveness for the way they had treated other people made in God’s image.

Of course, at one level the differences in the Church of England as regards LLF are even deeper than they were in South Africa – as was acknowledged at General Synod in November, they reach down to the very core of our faith. And yet I find myself wondering whether, if we were able to really listen to each other, to really understand each other’s stories, we might together find a way forward. Perhaps this process could start in the House of Bishops, and among the Synod representatives of one or two Dioceses? Is it possible that as we hear each other’s stories of rejection and exclusion, we might find it in ourselves to forgive, to discern what issues are ‘core’ and ‘secondary’, and so find a way forward together?

The ultimate antidote

It would be remiss of me not to explore how we might individually escape the maze of feelings of rejection and exclusion. I mentioned earlier that for me it involved a deeper discovery of the love of my heavenly Father for me. He loves me so much that he sent his own Son to die on a cross, to endure the rejection and exclusion that I deserve because of my own rejection of God and exclusion of him from my life. As I turn to him in repentance and faith, so he fills me with his Spirit. As the apostle Paul writes,

God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Romans 5:5

Through repentance and faith I am included by God in his family and kingdom (Ephesians 2:19-22); so no other form of rejection can ultimately affect me.

What is required

How might I reach the point of knowing that I am in this sense ‘beyond’ the pain of rejection? And how might I contribute to a process of exploring these issues with those who deeply oppose me and have even felt excluded by me?

First, I would explore to what extent the feelings of exclusion are justified biblically. We have to admit that the bible does identify certain situations in which some form of exclusion is appropriate and necessary. An obvious example would be the process Jesus himself sets out for dealing with sin in the church (Matthew 18:15-20). We need to ask – am I guilty of unrepented sin which makes loving exclusion in some form appropriate?

Second, I would seek to fix my eyes on Jesus rather than myself. Our indwelling sin leads us to an unhealthy focus on self. This causes us to take offence very easily; and also to sink into a pit of misery and despair. God’s solution to this problem is to reveal himself, supremely in the glorious person of Jesus Christ. As I gaze on Jesus, I am satisfied in something outside of myself and less concerned about offences caused to myself.

Third, I would seek to speak to those by whom I have felt rejected and excluded. I would seek to explain how their rejection has been experienced by me. I would seek to differentiate between appropriate exclusion on account of my sin, and rejection on account of their ungodly behaviour. I would hope that they might ask my forgiveness for the latter, and I would hope that I would be able to forgive accordingly.

Fourth, likewise I would seek to speak to those who have felt rejected and excluded by me (assuming they make themselves known to me). I would listen to their story and seek to understand why and how they have felt rejected. I would ask for their forgiveness for those attitudes which were not consistent with Scripture and the teaching of Jesus. And moving forward I would seek to love them appropriately, again in accordance with the teaching of Jesus.

Fifth, where reconciliation is not offered, I would as far as it depends on me do my utmost to be at peace with all people.

Conclusion

I recently came across an article explaining how one person had found that exclusion could actually be a gift to them. I wonder if in God’s providence the feelings of exclusion felt by many in General Synod and across the Church of England at present could turn out to be a gift to us: If only we can find it in ourselves to listen to those by whom we have felt excluded, and who have felt excluded by us.

*One of the amendments in the debate, tabled by the Bishop of Durham, requested that there be ‘provision that provides a clear way of distinguishing different views.’ This was rejected, largely by those who would like the teaching of the Church of England to change.