Why I've Been Silent

And why I'm writing again

(This post was original written for Matthew’s Facebook page. We are sharing it here as well. You can follow Matthew’s page here: facebook.com/mjshally)

---

Three years ago, I created this page to share my thoughts and writings on issues I’m passionate about: abuse, injustice, oppression, and how they intersect with Christianity. My tagline was “breaking silence and ending cycles of oppression in the faith community.” But for some time now my page has been mostly silent, ironically. Today I want to explain why.

When I started this page, I wanted to speak on issues like abuse and injustice from my perspective as a church leader. I wanted to show people that pastors should, and do, care about these issues and address them publicly. The church has developed a negative reputation in the minds of many people specifically because it has often been silent in the face of injustice. My hope was to be a change agent for good from within the church system, however small my influence might be.

But last year, I was fired from my position as a pastor. Technically I resigned, but it was not by choice, and the only alternative was being fired. The outcome is the same. I am no longer a denominational employee.

I’ll share more of this story in the future. But for now, I’ll just summarize it briefly. I was told by my employer that they no longer had a place for me, and that I should seek employment elsewhere. For those who may be unfamiliar with how the Adventist system works, we are not employed directly by a local church. Instead, we are employed by a conference that oversees many churches within a geographical area.

The conference that employed me wanted me to pursue employment in another conference. That would have meant uprooting my family, taking my boys away from their school and all their friends, and leaving us isolated from everyone we know. Plus I was not sure I had it in me to start all over again in a new conference. (I’ll share more about the reasons why at a later time.) Ultimately, my wife, Emmalee, and I decided moving was not in our family’s best interests, nor did we believe that was what God was calling us to do. That left me with no other option but to accept the end of my denominational employment.

To say this has been a painful and bewildering experience would be an understatement. I am still trying to come to terms with it. I spent a decade and a half either going to school to prepare for pastoral ministry, or working full time as a pastor. This career path defined most of my adult life. And the nature of pastoring means that every part of your life is impacted: where you live, where you go to church, where your kids go to school, even little things like what you wear or what you post on social media—everything is controlled, to greater or lesser degrees, by your job.

I had intentionally tried not to tie up too much of my personal identity in my career. But it’s impossible not to do that to some degree, especially the way that the Adventist system operates. That’s one of the cruel realities of denominational employment. You put your whole self into it, and when it ends, you are left with nothing, wondering who you even are or what you are supposed to do next.

Besides the existential questions, there’s also the problem of finding a new livelihood. For most of our marriage, I’ve been the primary breadwinner. Getting fired meant losing my income, our family’s health insurance, and our kids’ school subsidy. It’s not easy to pivot from pastoring to another career. I’ve struggled to find work. I have a Master’s degree, but it’s a very specific kind of degree, and most employers outside of the Adventist system aren’t going to know or care much about it. How do I support my family now?

Another difficult part of this experience has been seeing my creativity and passion wither away—an unfortunate side effect of depression and grief. I used to write music on a fairly regular basis. Now I can rarely find the interest to do it, and even when I try, the music just doesn’t come to me like it used to.

My writing is similar. It comes from a place deep within my soul that has been profoundly scarred. What do I say now? I’m no longer a hopeful agent of change working from within the system. I have been cast out. How do I explain that? If I try, will people understand?

But a thought that has been rolling around in my brain for the past two years is that I know I’m not alone in my grief. There are many others—far too many, sadly—who have been wounded by the church they loved and served. I may not be a denominational employee anymore, but I still have a voice. And maybe my voice can still make a difference. Maybe change will never come from within the system. But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen outside of it.

That part of me that wants to be a positive force for good in the world is still alive, however broken and fragile it may be. So I have decided to start writing again. I don’t know what I’ll say. Maybe I’ll just start by sharing my story. If nothing else, perhaps I can show someone else that they’re not alone in their pain. There is something healing about telling our stories, finding that we are not alone, and realizing that our story, even if it was a lament, has helped someone else on their journey.

I’ll be sharing my writings in two ways. One is through my Facebook page. The other is through the Substack that Emmalee and I just started. You can read her first blog post here: https://substack.com/home/post/p-147622055?source=queue

If you’re interested in reading more of our thoughts, please subscribe on Substack. All the content we post there will be free. If you would like to financially support us and the work we’re doing, there are paid subscription options as well.

Finding my voice again is not easy. But I can start by simply sharing my story. Thanks for listening. And if you’ve been on a similar journey, please reach out and leave a comment or send a message. You’re not alone. There is hope and healing in community, even in the company of the bereaved, the lonely, and the wounded.

“Not all those who wander are lost.” – J.R.R. Tolkien