The Church Outside Four Walls: When I Walked Away From Church (But Not From My Faith)

Leaving the Only World I Knew

Shortly after leaving my childhood cult, I stepped back from church altogether. I was exhausted by the misuse of authority that had marked most of my church-going life, and I needed space to breathe.

I walked away from church, but not from my faith.

I still believe a healthy, safe local congregation can be a beautiful thing.
But faith was never meant to be confined to four walls.

What I Needed Wasn’t Another Invitation to Church

During my two-year break, well-meaning friends repeatedly invited me to their churches.
“Our church is different — you really should check it out!”

I knew their hearts were kind. But what I actually needed?

An invitation to coffee.

I needed someone safe to sit with while I poured out all the pain and confusion swirling inside me. I needed to voice how the church had let me down. How it had abused me. How deeply it all hurt.

I needed someone who would let me cry — and someone who would remind me, gently and truthfully, that while the church had failed me, Jesus never would.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

After two years away, a near-stranger did exactly that.
And eventually, I found myself limping into what would become my church home.

Not just limping.
Broken. Shattered.

I bawled during every service for months — during worship, during the sermon, at the altar afterward. I had 24 years of grief to release, and for the first time, I was surrounded by people who allowed me to let it go. They gave me space when I needed space and loving arms when I needed comfort.

As I slowly began sharing my story, they didn’t judge. They didn’t hand me a list of legalistic rules, like the four churches before them. They encouraged me. They honored my healing.
They taught me how to fly.

All because someone was willing to step beyond the church walls, sit with me, and say,
“Me too. Church, too.”

Rethinking Evangelism

Maybe it’s time we transform how we think about evangelism.

The next time we see someone hurting outside the church, maybe the invitation shouldn’t be,
“Come to my church — it’s different.”

Maybe the invitation should be something like:
“Want to grab coffee?”
“Can I sit with you for a bit?”
“Tell me your story. I’m listening.”

Listen with non-judgmental ears.
Acknowledge their pain.
Sit with them.
Weep with them.

Be a living example of what the love of Jesus actually looks like.

Bringing Church Back to Where It Belongs

May we bring the church to the dinner table, to a grassy spot under a tree, or to the back seat of an Uber.
May we never confine The Church to four walls again. 💗

~ Emily Elizabeth Anderson