The Problem of Learned Helplessness

in difficult church situations

I first heard about the theory of Learned Helplessness by reading Martin Seligman’s book Learned Optimism. Here’s a simple definition from Study.com: “The Learned Helplessness Theory definition is when a person or animal learns to accept and endure an unpleasant event and does not try to avoid the unpleasant event even when the event is easily avoidable. The idea behind the theory is that people or animals can be conditioned to think they have no power over their situation and they do not make any attempts to change their situation because they feel helpless.”

I sometimes feel this learned helplessness in the publishing industry. I can “do all the right things,” yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to move the needle on book sales. It all feels quite arbitrary. It’s no meritocracy—it’s random and fickle. So after awhile, I ask myself why in the world do I try so hard? That’s what learned helplessness will do—it will immobilize you, making you believe this is your lot and you cannot move out of said lot.

But during the last few years at the church I used to attend, I felt this quite a bit. No matter what I tried (and my husband did as well), there was no way to break the ceiling of being able to serve or have a voice.

In upside down church situations, learned helplessness always acts as an advantage for the leadership who benefits from it. The longer they push against people who try to enact change, or bring things to light, or want to be part of the solution, the more bedraggled those “changers” become. They learn that no matter what they say, do, or pray, nothing seems to change. So after a heroic effort, they stop trying.

It’s at that point that we found ourselves a little over a year ago now. We had conversations with the right people. We had offered to help only to be patronized and put in our place. We asked a lot of questions. We went up the chain of command with our concerns. But ultimately, no needle moved. In fact, it stay quite fixed.

At that point, we could succumb to learned helplessness, stay in the system and hope to wait it out, or we could leave.

We left.

Because after a while, we realized we were part of a system, not a church. And that system was happy running its own way, proud in its success, and unyielding to feedback. Staying meant not only personal capitulation, but, for me at least, soul stress. I’m still walking out the healing from that time.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, where no matter what you do, you see no progress, or you slip into the immobility of learned helplessness, perhaps it’s time to take a step back. I can’t say whether the Lord will keep you there or move you on, but it does serve as a holy break to seek him about it.

I can say this. In my new church, I can have an opinion and not be seen as a threat. I am welcomed, not pandered to. Patrick and I are slowly jumping in, using our gifts as we have time and energy. But mostly we’re just welcomed, listened to, and connected. We are part of a body of believers, where the leaders listen, shepherd, and apologize. No church is perfect, but there are healthy churches in the world that don’t berate their members, welcome feedback, and seek to grow in the fruits of the Spirit. There are places where learned optimism flourishes.

If you have an unsettled, unwelcome feeling in your place of worship, ask yourself if learned helplessness plays a part. I know Jesus will open your eyes to what is next, whether that means sticking it out or moving on. In any case, pay attention to how you are being treated. Listen to your anxiety levels. Go to the Word of God. Seek wisdom from a fruit-laden follower of Christ outside your context. And pray.

The body of Christ should be a place of flourishing, peace, teaching, humility, kindness, and welcoming. (And we have the privilege of being a part of that healthy system, contributing to it with our kindness and service).