I’ve always been a small-church person. A church, for me, is a place where you know almost everyone by name. This was true for me growing up, except that all the little old ladies looked the same. (Was that Mrs. Peter Toews or Mrs. Henry Janzen?)
The true size of a church could be judged by answering the question: How is this community a better place to live because of this church?
The answer is not found in the events that happen inside your building.
My folks at Morgantown Church of the Brethren in West Virginia are busy having a huge impact on our community.
I think most people in my town are as busy as they want to be. There is always something happening.
This is especially true for parents. A child could easily be doing two activities every evening. The last thing most folks need is another evening activity. Time spent in church is time away from being the church in the world.
So, we don’t prioritize weekly church activities beyond Sunday morning. We prioritize our activities in the community. Often, during worship, the announcements take longer than the sermon, and most of them are about things happening outside our building.
We are a dual-denomination congregation (Church of the Brethren and Mennonite Church USA). This means I receive twice as many conference mailings and emails as most pastors.
But most of the folks in my church have no historical connection to either denomination. So we are free to become whatever we choose, rather than tied to what our brand of church is supposed to look/sound/act/be like.
Also, we are far from any Mennonite population center. We’re the only Anabaptist church in town, and most people around here couldn’t tell a Mennonite from a Mormon.
This means we can’t rely on name recognition to attract new people. It also means we aren’t weighed down by any baggage of what people expect.
When I got to Morgantown Church of the Brethren, I wondered how to respond to the last part of the name.
“Brethren”? Really? But rather than trying to change the name, I’ve added to it. Now our sign reads, “Morgantown Church of the Brethren (& Sistren) (& Othren).”
I’ve begun to realize the more problematic part of our name is “Church.”
I often meet people who appreciate what we do but have no intention of ever entering a church building. There are too many negative associations, too many misunderstandings.
Folks think a church is mostly about believing certain things and policing certain behaviors. They assume churches force people to agree on doctrine and on whom to condemn, based on strict control of acceptable language and practice.
There is no way to change everyone’s mind about what a church is, so it would be easier just to change what we call our group. After all, the Greek word ekklesia in the New Testament just means “gathering.”
I bring this up because of the possibility of change. To change our name, I would need to convince about 40 people that this is a good idea. I’m not sure this is possible. But it is more possible with 40 than with 300. We don’t have the institutional inertia of a larger gathering.
A key question for churches today is: Would you rather change or die?
I don’t think the answer is obvious. Many churches stubbornly keep doing the same things in the same way, hoping something or someone (maybe a new pastor?) will magically return them to the way they were 50 years ago.
In a small church, we’re able to change more easily.
This also impacts how a half-time pastor can get everything done. In my church, “everything” is a pretty small task. We have one committee that meets regularly and a few that meet occasionally. We have no regular evening programs, so I help plan a (mostly) monthly gathering.
I have no shut-ins, no one in a nursing home, currently no one in the hospital, and my folks do a great job of caring for each other (part of being the church).
Most of my work happens outside the church building, and my folks value the work I do in the community (again, just being the church).
If this is starting to sound like an ad for my church, that’s because it is.
I’m retiring, and we’re looking for someone who wants to be the pastor of a great little church in a beautiful part of the country. Our pastoral search team is a group of 40-something professionals who will not disappear after a new person is found.
If you’re worried that your pastor might be interested, you should be. Now go out and encourage your pastor in their work.
Wes Bergen was a stay-at-home dad for 20 years and hasn’t had a full-time job since 1986. These days he is mostly known as the father of Jay and Erin.
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