Is It Time to Get a Divorce from Institutional Religion?

Doubter's Parish

by

Special to United Methodist Insight | Oct. 7, 2025

Last summer I ate lunch with a long-term, kindred spirit friend who, like me, is a retired minister. We spoke about our vocations in the church, both the good and the bad. We also expressed deep disappointments with organized religion, historically and currently.

Near the end of the conversation, my friend said, “Maybe it’s time for us to get a divorce from the institutional church. After all, we question most of its doctrines, we don’t attend much, and we are weary of its long-standing failure to follow the example and teachings of Jesus.”

Several months ago my friend and I scheduled another lunch. His contempt for organized religion had grown exponentially since our previous visit, primarily due to strong Christian support of Donald Trump in the 2024 election (and beyond). He said, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve decided to get that ‘divorce’ from the institutional church that we talked about last year. I just can’t be a part of it anymore.”  I told him that although I wasn’t ready to take that step yet, I understood his decision.

Since that conversation, I’ve been thinking—a lot—about my friend’s question. Is  it time to get a divorce from institutional religion? This article is my attempt to answer that question. The fact that I’m even considering the possibility of a church “divorce” is a stunning development for me.

My wife and I married at age twenty, have been married for forty-eight years, and hope to remain married the rest of our lives. So clearly, I don’t know what it’s like to get a divorce. But lately, I’ve been feeling like I think a person might  feel if they were grappling with the possibility of terminating a long-term marriage.

If I were to get a “divorce” from the institutional church, it would come after decades of trying to make the marriage work. I “married” the church fifty-three years ago (at the age of fifteen) when I affirmed faith in Jesus Christ and took my baptism vows. Forty of those years were spent in vocational ministry. I’ve had some wonderful years in this long-term relationship. I’ve also had some excruciatingly painful years. But through it all, I made a commitment to be faithful to the church, “For better or for worse . . . till death do us part.” But, like my friend, I’ve been wondering if it’s time to break that fifty-three-year-old vow.

The History Behind the Question

Obviously, this contemplation of a church “divorce” didn’t come out of the blue. Not for my friend and certainly not for me. There’s a long backstory behind the question. It’s impossible to adequately share that story in one brief article, so I’ll only hit a few of the highlights. If you want the complete story, you can read the links below and review my (free) book, My Long Farewell to Traditional Religion and What Remains.

Unfortunately, my doubts about institutional religion began early on. And by “early on,” I mean immediately. Literally on the day of my baptism, I witnessed deep racism among numerous members of my congregation, giving me pause about the commitment I had just made.

The doubts continued as I read extremely troubling stories from the Bible that my church insisted must be taken literally. When I went to a revival meeting and heard my first “hellfire and damnation” sermon, I wondered, What kind of psychopathic God would torture people for all eternity? And do I want to be a part of an institution that teaches this kind of vengeful religion?

When I worked at national denominational headquarters of the Southern Baptist Convention, I saw firsthand the unfathomable toxicity and cruelty of fundamentalist religious-right religion. When I finally left the SBC to become a United Methodist, I thought I had solved my problems with the institutional church. But I was dead wrong.

For example, I immediately found myself in the middle of a vicious conflict over the issue of homosexuality. That battle ended with the largest schism in American church history since the civil war. When I pastored a UMC megachurch, I discovered that mainline Christians could be just as brutal and cruel as evangelicals.

And when I watched the majority of American Christians (of all denominations) vote for and enthusiastically support the most vile and corrupt anti-Jesus president in American history, I felt (and continue to feel) overwhelming disillusionment with institutional religion.

Unfortunately, my problems with the institutional church are not limited to personal experiences. Like many clergypersons, I’m a serious student of church history. And that story, from the beginning to today, is filled with one massive failure after another, far more than I can review in this article. In short, the question, “Is it time to get a divorce from institutional religion?” has been brewing in my heart and mind for a very long time.

Reasons to Divorce

As I prepared for this article, I jotted down some of the reasons to consider getting a “divorce” from organized religion. A quick overview follows:

  • I question the church’s understanding of God.  I am no longer able to believe in a traditional theistic “man upstairs” deity who providentially cares for the world, intervenes in human affairs, performs supernatural miracles, and answers prayers.
  • I question the church’s understanding of Christ.  Although I have a huge affinity for Jesus and seek to follow his example and teachings, I no longer affirm traditional Christology. These days I find myself following the human Jesus more than the divine Christ.
  • I question many of the church’s doctrines.  The list includes a literal hell, exclusive salvation, blood atonement, original sin, divine providence, rejection of same sex relationships, and many other traditional beliefs.
  • I question the church’s book.  Although I never believed in biblical inerrancy, for most of my life, I affirmed divine inspiration of the Bible. However, after a lifetime of study, I’ve come to view Scripture as a fully human book, with all the limitations of the ancient world (scientific, historical, theological, and ethical), including many sub-Christian texts.
  • I question the church’s kindness.  Large numbers of churchgoing people foster hatred toward LBGTQ persons, immigrants, people of color, intellectuals, and more. And lots of church members are downright cruel to their pastors and staff members. “They’ll know we are Christians by our love” is pure fantasy for many congregations.
  • I question the church’s institution.  As already noted, from the very beginning, institutional Christianity has had a long history of corruption, flaws, and failures. I’m also weary of the modern church’s rigid bureaucracy, resistance to change, culture wars, neglect of social justice, and prioritization of institutional survival over following Jesus.
  • I question the church’s politics.  I’m still stunned that the vast majority of churchgoing Americans (evangelical, Catholic, and mainline) voted for and support a man who rejects everything Jesus stood for. Donald Trump violates every value I hold as a Christian, an American, and a human being. I believe this unforgivable tragedy will go down as one of the greatest failures in American church history.

For these and many other reasons, I find myself seriously contemplating the possibility of giving up on traditional organized religion and following Jesus outside the boundaries of the institutional church.

An Amicable Divorce

However, if I were to get a “divorce” from the church, it would not be ugly, conflicted, or hateful. Instead, it would be, at least from my side, entirely amicable. For example:

  • If I were to divorce the church, I would always be grateful for the many gifts it gave me and would not harbor undue resentment toward it.
  • If I were to divorce the church, I would never wish it harm. Nobody would be happier than me to see the modern church reform, revitalize, and thrive. In spite of my disappointments with organized religion, I wish only good things for it.
  • If I were to divorce the church, I would never encourage other people to do the same. Each person must made up their own mind on this complicated and important matter.
  • If I were to divorce the church, I would not lose interest in it. Rather, I would continue to read, study, and write about it on Doubter’s Parish and other publishing venues.
  • If I were to divorce the church, I might return someday. I know several couples who divorced, only to marry each other again in the future. Under the right circumstances, perhaps that could happen with me. I would certainly be open to the possibility.

When I think about my decades-long struggle with institutional religion, and review the many good reasons for leaving it, part of me thinks an amicable church “divorce” might be justifiable, reasonable, and even spiritually healthy.

And Yet . . .

As I think about the possibility of an ecclesiastical divorce, I imagine myself sitting at my desk, reviewing the divorce paperwork, and perhaps signing the document. But as I fantasize that possibility, my heart makes numerous counterarguments, including the following:

  • The church introduced me to Jesus, who transformed my life and continues to do so.
  • The church became the family my dysfunctional family could not be, offering me love, affirmation, and community.
  • The church gave me an excellent education including bachelors, masters, and doctoral degrees, at virtually no cost.
  • The church gave me a meaningful vocation that allowed me to make contributions to others while meeting a lot of my own needs.
  • The church gave me exceptional opportunities of service, including large pastorates, teaching opportunities, denominational service, and extensive publishing.
  • The church provided me a living, literally putting a roof over my family’s head, food on our table, and a decent retirement.
  • The church, in spite of its many flaws, continues to do good things in the world.
  • The church is the primary place where the stories of Jesus are told and valued.
  • The church provides meaningful friendships and community to millions of people.
  • The church offers hope, comfort, and meaning for huge numbers of believers.
  • The church, while it often fails to live them out, stands for important values.
  • The church, even with its enormous flaws, saved my life in just about every way a person can be saved (spiritually, emotionally, relationally, and vocationally).

So in spite of good reasons for doing so, I find it difficult to proceed with a divorce. That doesn’t mean I’m not angry at the church. I most definitely am. And I’m disappointed with it beyond words. It has been unfaithful to Jesus for most of its history.

I only sporadically attend institutional church services these days (although I’m an active member of a retired clergy group that basically functions as a house church). I’ve mostly been on a “sabbatical” from organized religion for the past several years. And yet, I still appreciate all it’s done for me and others. Yes, the church has wounded me, often profoundly. But it’s also blessed me in enumerable ways.

As I conclude (at least for now) my deliberation over the provocative question my friend broached over a year ago, I once again sit at my desk and imagine looking at a “divorce” document from institutional religion. I carefully read it over. I stare at the signature line at the bottom of the page. I pick up my pen and seriously consider signing it. But when I do, my eyes fill with tears, and my hand won’t move.

Maybe someday I’ll sign the divorce papers. Maybe I should sign them.

But not today.