Small Enough for You

Churches that struggle do so because they lack, identity, mission, vision, community, and more. – Rob Rynders

It is the day of my ordination.  I have preached my sermonette, been questioned on the floor of Presbytery, and now stand with a group of other folk being ordained.  There are about 12 of us – all headed to serve in small, largely rural, churches.

The gentleman welcoming us, means, I am sure, well, when he says, “When I’m wrong, I’m wrong.  I said no one of any quality would want to serve in a small church.  But look at all these quality folk.”  Or something like that.

I remember being appalled as I searched out the faces of the folks from my own small rural church who had come to support me and witness this important milestone in my life and saw the woundedness in their expressions.

In seeking to compliment us, the class of new pastors, the congregations we serve were gravely insulted, told in front of God and everybody that they lacked any qualities that would appeal to any pastor worth their proverbial salt.

Nothing has changed much in the intervening eight years and I am left to wonder whether this is a phenomena of the United States or if it’s a world-wide thing – this eschewing of ‘small’ as ‘bad’ or ‘unworthy’ or ‘broken’ or anything except what it actually is: small?  What is this obsessive need to supersize everything in our lives?

Thus do I read yet another blog post on how we’re doing it wrong, as evidenced by our smallness: lacking in identity, mission, vision, community and more.  And more?  Really?  Small is per se evidence of lack, is it?  Hmmm.

Well, of course, small must be bad.  After all, everyone* says so.  Google “the problem with small churches” and you get 355 million hits in less than 6 seconds.  And we all know that if Google says it, it must be true, eh?

Or do we?

Rob Rynders may be right – at least partially.  I’m sure there are churches who struggle because of confusion or lack of clarity as to who they are or what they are about.

But does it occur, ever, to the many hypothesizers out there that struggle is actually a part of all life?  Including church life?  That struggle + difficulty + challenge is simply the landscape we inhabit both as humans and as children of God (if there is any distinction to be made there, which I doubt)?

The principal struggle I experience in serving a small church is actually financial, which I am told over and over again biblically is the least of my worries.

Most Christians I know actually have a pretty clear sense of their identity – individually and as members of a faith community (yeah, that’s church).  And they understand their and our mission here on this earth – love and serve.  Most days, they do it pretty well, if quietly.  And strangers don’t remain strangers for long in a small church – there’s just nowhere to hide.

When I get discouraged, thinking we should somehow be ‘bigger’ (whatever that may mean) than we are, I remember that small is actually a part of our identity, of who we are.  We live in a place where big in terms of numbers of people is simply not part of the landscape.  The people who live here actually prefer to avoid crowds.  In fact, one gentleman told me that he did not attend church because there were just too many people there.  He was delighted when I told him that I had the perfect worshiping community for him and he’s been faithfully attending ever since.

It’s easy to tell folks how they’re getting it wrong.  I wonder why that is?  And I am left wondering whether the diagnosticians among and within us ever find a patient who’s doing just fine?  Or one who could use a little help who actually gets the help rather than a reminder of just how very sick she is?

Small churches can mostly see just fine.  And they too are about their Father’s business.  It would be nice if money worries weren’t part of the equation, but that’s okay – that just puts us closer to our neighbors who are going through the exact same struggle.

There are folk – maybe even most folk –  who need to be drug or enticed to church.  There are churches for them.  And then there are those who need to find their own way here.  We’re the church for those folk.

Most days, I’m Presbyterian enough to believe that when folk need to be here, they’ll find their way.  And we’ll be here waiting to welcome them – the same neighbors and friends they and we have known all along, small enough you won’t get lost in the crowd.



________________
*Well, everyone except the Bible and Jesus – yeah – that guy:   “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”  (Matthew 18.20).  And just how many original disciples cum apostles were there?  Oh, that’s right – 12.  

If I Needed a Doctor, I Wouldn't Call You

Years ago, a well-meaning family member almost shouted at me to “do something” about another dysfunctional family member who was acting out at the time.  Let’s just take it as a given that I was the one who ‘should’ do something.  The totally frustrating, even angering, thing for me was the vast universe of presuppositions contained in that single statement.

What I said back at the time was, “what, exactly, is it that you propose that I do?”

The well-meaning family member’s response was silence and my retort a snort.

That’s pretty much how I feel about all the advice out there in ether-land about how church is being done so very, very wrong, especially by the wee tiny ones.

Everybody is pretty quick to diagnose the many (as they see it) problems.  But they’re pretty darned short on sound, concrete advice about what to do different, better.

So to all the advice-givers, I have some advice for you:

1. Stop presupposing you know what the problem is and that we don’t.

2. Stop presupposing that we’ve been busy lo these many decades doing nothing until you came along.

3. Never write another diagnosis piece without offering the cure.  Without a proposed cure, you are a waste of my time.

4. Be specific.  “Be nicer” is about as helpful as . . . well, my mother reads this, so I won’t say how helpful it isn’t, but I hope you take my point.

5. Strive for a bit more compassion.  Use those pastoral skills you were taught.

6. Think about context.  For example: I live in a remote rural county with a total population of roughly 2,400 people and declining.  The average age has to be about 60.  The folks who move here (largely in retirement) have self-selected to live in a remote geographic area.  They think and act individually rather than in a community fashion on many issues.  There are quite a few people of faith who eschew church entirely, worshiping alone at home not because church has failed them but because that’s the kind of people they are.  In the eight years I’ve been here as pastor, roughly 40 new folks have come to and through this church.  In other words, for every new person, we lose another at the rate of almost 100%.  How do you ‘gain’ ground in numbers when it’s an ageing population, which means your members will (a) die; (b) move in with the kids; ( c) go into assisted living; or (d) simply stop attending because of difficulties in hearing or embarrassment about things like incontinence in pretty short and fairly predictable order?  People literally have joined this church to die or be buried here.  Over 50% of our attendance is by people who will never join the church.  What exactly do you propose I do to increase membership when we die about as quickly as we join?  What should I do to boost the pool of leadership material when it’s leadership that many seek to avoid?

So, I ask you what I was asking the well-meaning family member those many years ago: What, exactly, is it that you propose that I do?  What should I do that I have not already done?  Really, tell me, because I’m fresh out of ideas.  So tell me and I’ll do it.  Otherwise, it’s probably best that you say nothing at all.

I’ll get specific since I’ve asked you to.  Carey Neuwhof recently posted in his blog a piece entitled, 5 Signs Your Church Culture Needs to Change.

#1?  Stop judging people.  Really?  (I realize I am overusing the word.  If you’ve a better one, I’m open to suggestions.)  Other than the simple observation that judging others is bad and Christians should stop it because Jesus doesn’t like it (which we’d all pretty much take as a given), exactly how do you propose that I as pastor help and assist my congregation to amend or change judging behavior, assuming that’s a problem in this particular location?  Most folk that I know of the Christian stripe do not think they’re judgmental even when they are.  Some honestly believe they’re offering care when they offer criticism.  And perhaps they are.  Wouldn’t it be more helpful, Carey, to pause for a moment to define what judgment is, what it looks like and some simple steps on how to overcome that tendency within ourselves individually and as a group?

#2 Handle conflict better.  I have the same response as to #1 – really?  How?  Churches embroiled in conflict know that they’re embroiled in conflict.  Telling them to stop it is silly.  Pointing out that it’s harmful is actually, I would posit, an increase in the harm.  The I’m not worthy mantra is well-played in churches.  What perhaps isn’t is the news that change is not only possible, but easier than we think.  A few well-placed suggestions on how to settle conflict in a healthy way is much more meaningful than the declarative statement to cut it out.  I’d be curious to know what’s worked for you, Carey, in your past dealings with unhealthy conflict.

Perhaps I am simply pointing out the obvious limits to the blog post as a source of important learning.  Blogs tend to be more headlines than detailed analysis.  In fact, Carey has written books about various subjects dealing with church change.  I probably do him an injustice by picking on this particular blog, which stands as one small piece of an entire body of work.

But please, fellow advice-offering ministers, believe me when I tell you: congregants in small churches, if mine is an example, have taken on very well the diagnosis that there must be something wrong with them (otherwise they wouldn’t be so small, now, would they?) and have heard precious little of the good-news gospel about themselves from the larger world.

So to my fellow pastors of small (particularly rural) churches, I would offer a different voice, the Spirit’s voice of encouragement:

1. Maybe there are things that are wrong with your church.  Work on them.  But do not let those things let you lose sight of the things that are right.  The faithful who have been there since they were born need our love, encouragement and support as much as the potential seeker walking by on a Sunday morning.

2. Maybe you’re dying.  Maybe you’re just holding steady.  And maybe holding steady is what God has pronounced good in your particular neck of the woods.

3. Never doubt the difference you make.  A whole world can tell you how you got it wrong.  But don’t forget how you got it right.  Those congregants who wear you down are busy calling folks . . . taking casseroles and crock pots to those in need . . . lovingly maintaining a building as if it were their home, because it is . . . checking in on their more feeble neighbors even when they themselves are feeble . . . bringing food for the food bank from their own cupboards . . . straightening your stole when it’s skewed because you represent them . . . crying as they face you with the offering plate as they’re moved to tears they’d hate the world to see . . . avoiding you out of shame when they’ve behaved badly . . . calling you in desperation when they haven’t been to church in years . . . those people make a difference and so do you.

12 Reasons Not to Come to My Church

Churches these days, in the United States at least, seem to desperately seek out new members.  That makes sense spiritually as well as practically, for Christians are called to evangelize, that is, to spread the word of God’s love to the world.

And in the face of dwindling numbers, as a church professional (translation: I’m a preacher/pastor), my FB page is full of posts about how to attract more people into the church, how to go where the people not in church are, how to be ‘relevant’ to the unchurched, how to market one’s church, etc., etc., etc.

But every church is not for every person.  So if you’re thinking about or looking for a church community to call your own, be warned: this may not be the church for you.

My own list of 12 reasons why you might not want to come here:

1. We’re small. . . really small . . . tiny even.  And small ain’t for everyone.  Because here’s the thing about small: it really is up to you.  So if you want a church where you can plug in to what’s already going on, slide in and slide out with little fuss, well, we’re just not the church for you, for the fact is that if you’re coming to this tiny church, you will be called on.

2. As a corollary to #1, there is no anonymity here.  There’s nowhere to hide, to be invisible, in a church this size – there just isn’t.  You will be noticed.  You will be welcomed.  And hugged.  And while hospitality is a good thing, not everyone is comfortable with being noticed.  That’s okay.  We’re just not for you.

3. Another corollary to #1, if you’ve got a great idea but no time or energy or interest to implement it, this place is definitely not for you.  This pastor loves new ideas and most times, we’ll all jump in behind someone who’s got one – but, and it’s a big thing – really – if it’s your idea, it’ll be up to you to make it come true.  We’ll help you.  But if it’s yours, baby, you run with it or it won’t happen.

4. If you insist that the church you attend have a predictable ending time, you really need to go somewhere else.  You can stare at your watch all you want; you can even install a clock where the preacher just has to see it (trust me, it’s been done) – it will make no difference.  Services end when they end.  It’s not an all-day thing, but I’m told it can feel like it.  So if you need an hour a week and no more for your spiritual sustenance, you really need to be somewhere else.

5. If you don’t want to hear about money, or be asked to give of your money, go somewhere else.  Enough said.  (I can give you the longer version some other time, but chances are if this is a deal breaker for you, we won’t get that far in the conversation, will we?)

6. If it’s all about you and your needs, please do me the favor of going somewhere else.  I have neither the time nor the energy nor the ability to meet all the needs of all the people all the time.  And it’s not my job.  Nor is it church’s job.  So you’ll just end up disappointed and angry and who needs that?  You don’t and neither do I.

7. If you need things spiritual to be clear cut, with no room for differing views, this is definitely not the place for you.  Doctrine and dogma may have their place, but we’re a rag tag bunch of current and former Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, Lutherans, Unitarians, Reformed and Presbyterians, gathered under the Presbyterian umbrella.  And most of us are just way too old to want to arm wrestle ourselves into one worldview.  We’re pretty content, most days, to make room for each other.  We’ll make room for you too.  But none of us get to design the room alone, so it can end up looking pretty funny after awhile, with windows where there should be doors and vice versa.  If you need certainty, we are certain of a few things, but they are very few and everything else is up for discussion.

8. If you’re offended by laughter, you’d better just keep on driving when you get here.  We’re the kind of folks and I’m the kind of preacher, who like to laugh.  We celebrate communion sometimes with chocolate.  We come to the table joyous.  And we like it that way.

9. If a woman preacher is a problem, better keep moving.  Isn’t it obvious?

10. If you require entertainment, this place is not your place.  While I think I’m pretty witty, nobody is that entertaining week in and week out.  I know I’m not (and when I forget that, the folks here are quick to remind me).

11. If you’re just not that interested in things spiritual or consider yourself ‘spiritual but not religious’ - definitely give us a miss.  People come to church for all kinds of reasons.  No one here will judge your reasons.  But we are definitely about our Father’s business.  If that’s of no interest to you, there are civic clubs and groups and volunteer organizations that can better feed your desire to be of help to the world.  If you’re looking for friends, there are better places to find them.  We’ll do our best to make you feel welcome, but we won’t always get it right.  We’ll make room for you, but not always in the ways you would like.  And we are unapologetically religious as well as spiritual, spiritual as well as carnal.

12. If you think politics have no place in church or church in politics, you will not be happy here.  This is not a church that preaches on who you should vote for, but its preacher is definitely one who will challenge you to think about and enact your understanding of God as the Lord of all in the entirety of your life, which includes your life as a citizen.  So if it’s personal piety to the exclusion of public concerns that you seek, this is not the place for you.

If you’re someone living in the mountains of western Virginia and seeking out a church, I hope and trust you’ll consider McDowell Presbyterian Church and Headwaters Chapel.  We’re charming.  We’re historic.  We’re (mostly) pretty nice people.  We love Jesus and follow him the best we can.  We get mad at and fall in love with each other over and over again every day.  We’re part of the body human and the body divine.  And we’d love to have you.  But please, oh please, do think about whether you’d really love to have us too and if not, really, do give us a miss.

SermonCliffNote: Stewards of God's Call

God calls whom God will when God will how God will.  The Bible is replete with the call stories of God’s people, including Moses, perhaps the most unwilling of all.

When God came calling in the form of a burning bush, Moses repeatedly protests his own unsuitability, asking who am I to do this thing and who are you to ask me?  My own favorite is when he pleads with God: O Lord, please send someone else!

To all of Moses’ protests, God responds with providing.

Many, if not all, call stories have protest as the response to God’s invitation. . . Amos protests he is just a farmer . . . Jeremiah that he is just a boy . . . Isaiah that he is not worthy . . . Jonah that God’s message is not worthy . . . Esther that she’ll be killed . . .

Yet God persists with all of them.  God provides for all of them.  And God fulfills God’s purposes through all of them.  Even so, not every call story in the Bible is a success: Saul almost brings a nation to ruin that God gave him to take care of . . . Judas was as much a disciple, as much called as Peter and Andrew and James and the rest . . .

Preacher G. Lloyd Rediger speaks of the duty we Christians have to be “responsible stewards” of God’s call to us.  God has given us a heart, a passion, a desire, to do something and that something is God’s call to us.

Yet God’s call is not an invitation received without conflict – often there is doubt . . . and fear . . . confusion . . . and even lack of desire . . . because the call of God is a very big deal . . . and too often we humans live in a perpetual state of smallness, forgetting who and what we were created to be and to do, settling for far too little and calling it good or good enough.

When we believe we are too few . . . too weak . . . too old . . . or too young . . . too tired to act, to move, to help, we make ourselves too small . . .

When we buy in to the lies of our culture that only big money and big business and big churches can do anything of real import, we make ourselves too small . . .

And few though we may be in number, we were not made for small –

In the words of poet Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Our imagining is a big part of our stewarding of God’s call . . . for if we cannot or dare not imagine what God has in store, we will not see it come to life.

For God’s call to bear fruit, we must first imagine that it can.

For change to happen in ourselves and in our world, we must first believe, imagine its happening.

The call is always an invitation into the movement of the divine dance of coming and going:  come . . . with me . . . go . . . and do . . .

The question is . . . will we?  Dare we?