I think my reaction in the moment was, simply: “huh??” I was not expecting it, and it seemed so contrary to other prophetic prayer and messages I had received in the 2 1/2 years I’ve been regularly attending the church, because, well, it was. Over time, my next reaction was confusion, and then eventually, fear. After all, Vineyard was home, and I had forsaken a professional move to Batavia just a couple months prior, largely because of staying at this church.
Eight years later, and many of the people that made the Vineyard the Vineyard for me have moved on, either to other churches, or to other cities. Jeremiah, one of three friends I had left in Chicago when I returned from Minnesota who first introduced me to the church, moved to Southern California over three years ago. Alan and Alison, who led the first small group/Bible study I was in, moved back to the United Kingdom sometime mid-decade to plant a church they felt God was leading them to plant. The vast majority of my peer-age group that was there the first couple years, have all either left due to a church plant, relocation, dating relationship opportunities, or just simply to go to a different church. In 2016-2017, not long after Trump was elected the first time, many older-generation folks (older than me, anyway) left because, well, partially because of politics, but moreso because they felt unwelcome because they disagreed with certain stands Vineyard leadership had taken. (This is just based on what little snippets I’ve heard.)
For the first four years I was at the Vineyard, I had really no reason to doubt (aside from my own personal triggers and depression) that this was the place for me. A lot of key components that made this home for me were: 1.) they preached the Word, 2.) they also preached the Spirit and listening to the Holy Spirit, and had conferences that focused on that; 3.) they emphasized spiritual, mental, and emotional healing, which I desperately needed, in addition to physical healing. And in the fourth year I was there, God moved in powerful ways for me that led me to: 1.) become a co-leader in a small group; 2.) become a member of the church (and as such, begin tithing); and 3.) get baptized. During that time I heard lots of prophetic words spoken over me. It was certainly quite a time.
In the fifth year was when the Vineyard started getting away from what had, in my opinion, made it so good. By this point, we had lost practically half the young folks (people my generation) to two different church plants, one of which ultimately folded after a few months. But it was also 2014, when uproar around cops’ violence against black folk really started occurring. And as a church which I do believe God declared would (and since has) become a multi-national and multi-cultural church, they believed it was their responsibility to go all-in on racial reconciliation. While I chose to trust that the church was indeed following His leading, it was also the first inkling that felt to me that it was getting away from that which had "made it so good,” i.e. Word, Spirit, and an emphasis on healing. That said, while I was not feeling as connected with the Vineyard on these accounts, I knew it alone wasn’t enough to sway me to leave. So even as I began contemplating exploring other churches, I stayed.
Around 2017 or 2018, the Vineyard did reverse course and get back to emphasizing Word and Spirit. There was a sermon series that lasted for 12 months titled "Eating Well", which was basically a slow trek through the New Testament, from the Gospel according to Matthew all the way through the Book of Revelation. I will confess that I didn’t participate in the weekly reading assignments that all church members were invited to participate. But the sermons suddenly became rich again. In November 2019 the church hosted a Holy Spirit conference, which God used to really minister to me. And then in January 2020, the pastors began preaching a sermon series on sexuality, which was due to go all the way to Easter.
In the meantime, the coronavirus pandemic arrived. I remember being on the phone with my friend Greg, who works security, who happened to be at the church (and we were on the phone together) on the day the senior pastor first pronounced: “no church Sunday,” before even making it official to the rest of the church. Church moved online, the sermon series on sexuality was interrupted (understandably so), replaced by messages of faith and hope as we began to navigate times that were uncertain for all.
After that, the spokes slowly came off. First it was the mere fact that church (and everything else) was strictly virtual as our state went under lockdown. A couple months later, the Evanston Vineyard decided to move their services off Facebook Live and strictly on to their website, which I could not access via either my computer or my phone, and when I asked about possibilities of them streaming their services to alternate platforms like Facebook or YouTube, I was told that that wasn’t happening. Frustrating, and very disappointing, but I still was signed up for a few church-wide classes, as well as a small group that I’ve been a regular at. I was still getting Word and community (virtually, anyway), if not much else.
Then George Floyd’s murder happened. Facebook suddenly became a war zone. And so many people I thought I knew suddenly revealed dark sides that I never would have thought were there (and certainly had hoped weren't there), simply on account of the fact that, by all appearances, they were church-going Jesus-followers. But, in their angry posts and angry back-and-forths, the vast majority of the outrage I saw didn’t mention Jesus or even God. It was like they kicked their faith to the curb because, “doggone it, injustice was happening and people need to conform to this new agenda that is really the only way to make it right, to make justice actually be justice, once and for all.” So much for “vengeance is mine, says the Lord.”
Eight years later, and many of the people that made the Vineyard the Vineyard for me have moved on, either to other churches, or to other cities. Jeremiah, one of three friends I had left in Chicago when I returned from Minnesota who first introduced me to the church, moved to Southern California over three years ago. Alan and Alison, who led the first small group/Bible study I was in, moved back to the United Kingdom sometime mid-decade to plant a church they felt God was leading them to plant. The vast majority of my peer-age group that was there the first couple years, have all either left due to a church plant, relocation, dating relationship opportunities, or just simply to go to a different church. In 2016-2017, not long after Trump was elected the first time, many older-generation folks (older than me, anyway) left because, well, partially because of politics, but moreso because they felt unwelcome because they disagreed with certain stands Vineyard leadership had taken. (This is just based on what little snippets I’ve heard.)
For the first four years I was at the Vineyard, I had really no reason to doubt (aside from my own personal triggers and depression) that this was the place for me. A lot of key components that made this home for me were: 1.) they preached the Word, 2.) they also preached the Spirit and listening to the Holy Spirit, and had conferences that focused on that; 3.) they emphasized spiritual, mental, and emotional healing, which I desperately needed, in addition to physical healing. And in the fourth year I was there, God moved in powerful ways for me that led me to: 1.) become a co-leader in a small group; 2.) become a member of the church (and as such, begin tithing); and 3.) get baptized. During that time I heard lots of prophetic words spoken over me. It was certainly quite a time.
In the fifth year was when the Vineyard started getting away from what had, in my opinion, made it so good. By this point, we had lost practically half the young folks (people my generation) to two different church plants, one of which ultimately folded after a few months. But it was also 2014, when uproar around cops’ violence against black folk really started occurring. And as a church which I do believe God declared would (and since has) become a multi-national and multi-cultural church, they believed it was their responsibility to go all-in on racial reconciliation. While I chose to trust that the church was indeed following His leading, it was also the first inkling that felt to me that it was getting away from that which had "made it so good,” i.e. Word, Spirit, and an emphasis on healing. That said, while I was not feeling as connected with the Vineyard on these accounts, I knew it alone wasn’t enough to sway me to leave. So even as I began contemplating exploring other churches, I stayed.
Around 2017 or 2018, the Vineyard did reverse course and get back to emphasizing Word and Spirit. There was a sermon series that lasted for 12 months titled "Eating Well", which was basically a slow trek through the New Testament, from the Gospel according to Matthew all the way through the Book of Revelation. I will confess that I didn’t participate in the weekly reading assignments that all church members were invited to participate. But the sermons suddenly became rich again. In November 2019 the church hosted a Holy Spirit conference, which God used to really minister to me. And then in January 2020, the pastors began preaching a sermon series on sexuality, which was due to go all the way to Easter.
In the meantime, the coronavirus pandemic arrived. I remember being on the phone with my friend Greg, who works security, who happened to be at the church (and we were on the phone together) on the day the senior pastor first pronounced: “no church Sunday,” before even making it official to the rest of the church. Church moved online, the sermon series on sexuality was interrupted (understandably so), replaced by messages of faith and hope as we began to navigate times that were uncertain for all.
After that, the spokes slowly came off. First it was the mere fact that church (and everything else) was strictly virtual as our state went under lockdown. A couple months later, the Evanston Vineyard decided to move their services off Facebook Live and strictly on to their website, which I could not access via either my computer or my phone, and when I asked about possibilities of them streaming their services to alternate platforms like Facebook or YouTube, I was told that that wasn’t happening. Frustrating, and very disappointing, but I still was signed up for a few church-wide classes, as well as a small group that I’ve been a regular at. I was still getting Word and community (virtually, anyway), if not much else.
Then George Floyd’s murder happened. Facebook suddenly became a war zone. And so many people I thought I knew suddenly revealed dark sides that I never would have thought were there (and certainly had hoped weren't there), simply on account of the fact that, by all appearances, they were church-going Jesus-followers. But, in their angry posts and angry back-and-forths, the vast majority of the outrage I saw didn’t mention Jesus or even God. It was like they kicked their faith to the curb because, “doggone it, injustice was happening and people need to conform to this new agenda that is really the only way to make it right, to make justice actually be justice, once and for all.” So much for “vengeance is mine, says the Lord.”
I didn’t stop tithing at the Vineyard — and instead begin tithing at Good News — until September. It wasn’t until late October that I finally started telling the first couple of people, including one of my close friends from the Vineyard with whom I’ve developed such a close bond that it would likely take death to separate us (and even then, only temporarily). More recently, I’ve begun sharing news of my church change with more people. But saying goodbye has been hard. Vineyard meant so much to me for a long time, at many points in my life when I was struggling. God certainly used the Vineyard as a means of healing.
As for, “you will not be at the Vineyard forever,” it truly began in earnest at the beginning of 2019. I had had a falling out with a key relationship (non-dating) that in itself had begun to show its cracks the previous year. As a result spent the rest of 2019 (and into 2020) feeling rather nomadic while still attending church. It was during this time that, for the first time, the idea of me really leaving the Vineyard began to make sense. Even though I was still active in various ministries there, because of the aforementioned falling-out, I felt like I lost a key piece of what had made this place home, through all the twists and turns.
I think, too, that I was weary. I’d been working on myself to become a better, stronger, and healed person for what was now a long time. I wanted to move on to other things, other blessings, in life that I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to find at the Vineyard (not a fault of the church, mind you). But then the thought of saying goodbye felt daunting, on account of how many people I would have to consider saying goodbye to and explaining my reasons. (And of course, then deciding where I might go.) I believe God used the pandemic to provide the perfect cover. That, and I believe He used my girlfriend to help provide the church. Speaking of which...