The Sacred Act of Leaving: Finding God in Holy Departure
By Tonetta Landis-Aina
Several years ago, while I was deeply immersed in church planting and pastoring Resurrection City (which later merged with the Table Church), I encountered a movement that both unsettled and intrigued me. The movement was simply called #LeaveLoud, initiated by Black historian Jamar Tisby. Having dedicated years to pursuing racial reconciliation within white evangelical spaces, Tisby had begun to recognize what seemed like a futile effort. He observed Black Christians quietly departing these spaces, driven away by an endemic reluctance to confront systemic white supremacy and its pervasive consequences.
As someone raised to be a "fastidious good girl," I initially found myself appalled by the notion of a Christian leader calling others to leave church. Yet simultaneously, I found it oddly liberating – even delicious. At the time, I was establishing a new church precisely because I hadn't found existing spaces where I could fully embody my authentic self. #LeaveLoud represented a bold embrace of what Black communities have long understood: the transformative power of holy departure.
Consider Celie in "The Color Purple." If you haven't seen it (and if that's the case, come to my house immediately – we need to remedy this), recall the scene where she confronts Mr., declaring, "Until you do right by me, everything you touch will crumble. Everything you even dream about will fail." Or consider the Black churches and denominations we celebrate during Black History Month, many of which emerged from a divine calling to depart.
Dr. Shaniqua Walker-Barnes, in her remarkable book "I Bring the Voices of My People," reflects on Celie's actions as more than mere departure – they represent an act of salvation and transformation that subverts the authority of oppressive powers. Celie's leaving becomes a holy act, a reclamation of her divine agency as one created in God's image.
The Two Faces of Departure
I know leaving is never simple. Many in our community have faced this difficult choice, and in our current political climate, many more are contemplating various forms of departure – from institutions that remain silent in the face of injustice, from companies that compromise essential services affecting our neighbors' wellbeing, or from positions where ethical practice has become impossible.
But there's another side to leaving that's far more painful: expulsion. Being cast out without consent. Many of us carry the wounds of unjust expulsion. About fifteen years ago, I was "invited to leave" (without my consent) a church because I was queer. I can still viscerally recall the bewilderment as I walked out of that stone building after the pastor's meeting, utterly disoriented about what would come next.
In recent weeks, I've spoken with numerous community members who've been furloughed, placed on administrative leave, or fired. Others continue working under the constant threat of termination. Our community carries so much bewilderment, such a profound need for guidance and mutual support as we navigate forward when the leaving isn't of our choosing.
A Story of Sight and Insight
To understand both voluntary departure and forced expulsion, let's examine a fascinating narrative from John's Gospel that speaks to our current moment. In John 9, we encounter a story about a man born blind – but it's far more than a healing narrative.
The story begins with Jesus and his disciples encountering this man. The disciples, trapped in traditional theological frameworks, want to know whose sin caused the blindness – his or his parents'? Jesus rejects both options, but the traditional translation suggesting God caused the blindness to reveal divine works is equally problematic.
Scholars like Alicia Myers and Gielo Day offer a more nuanced reading: this isn't about disability requiring healing, but about God's works being revealed through this particular person in this specific moment. Throughout all four Gospels, stories of blind people receiving sight carry deeper significance about spiritual understanding and divine revelation.
What follows is essentially a dramatic play in multiple acts. Jesus heals the man and exits the scene. The neighbors debate whether this is truly the same person. Religious authorities get involved, concerned about Sabbath violations. The man's parents are called to testify but distance themselves out of fear of synagogue expulsion. Finally, the formerly blind man, frustrated with repeated interrogations, boldly challenges the religious authorities' logic. He becomes their teacher, declaring with common-sense wisdom that this healing must be from God.
The result? Expulsion. The very thing his parents feared becomes his reality. But the story doesn't end there – Jesus seeks him out, reveals himself more fully, and the man's physical healing becomes complete spiritual sight.
Finding Our Way Forward
This story speaks profoundly to our current moment in several ways:
Jesus as the Revealer of Truth: Those who feel most uncertain about their future may be most ready for divine revelation. Religious certainty can actually blind us to deeper truth.
Living in the In-Between: Jesus's absence through most of the story mirrors our experience of seeking clarity in uncertain times. Like the early Christians facing synagogue expulsion, we navigate spaces of transition and loss.
The Power of Personal Experience: The healed man's testimony comes not from religious qualification or doctrine, but from lived experience. He simply recounts what happened and interprets it through his encounter with divine presence.
As we face our current political moment, watching institutions crumble and communities fracture, I'm increasingly convinced that theological arguments alone won't guide us forward. Instead, we must ground ourselves in actual experience of divine presence, both individually and communally.
A Practice for the Journey
I've found the Prayer of Examen, a historic Christian practice, particularly helpful in recognizing divine presence in daily life. It involves simple steps:
- Review the last 24 hours of your life
- Notice moments of joy and life-giving experiences
- Recognize divine presence in those moments
- Identify difficult moments you'd change if possible
- Sit with those moments in light of divine love
- Offer everything to God for healing
Whether you're contemplating leaving, processing expulsion, or simply feeling bewildered, remember that your experience matters. Through it, you may find not just survival, but transformation – the ability to recognize truth and light even in the darkest moments.
Like the man in John's Gospel, may we find courage to speak truth to power, to trust our experience, and to recognize that sometimes the holiest act is simply to leave. And in leaving, may we discover we're not alone – we're part of a long tradition of holy departure, making way for new life and deeper truth.