What Visitors See at Your Church

If you’ve ever wondered why that nice young family who joined and participated for a year or two eventually faded out of your church, I have something short for you to read.

In Kicking Habits, Tom Bandy illustrates and contrasts a declining and thriving church through a narrative. Bob and Sally Public visit St. Friendly-on-the-Hill Church, then move on to New Hope-in-the-Heart Church. Tom has made the narrative available on his website.

I have personally been Bob Public, although I’m sorry to say I haven’t found a “New Hope-in-the-Heart.” I’ll let you know when I do.

Bursting Wineskins

There’s a very familiar bible verse I recently saw in a new light. This is Jesus talking, from Matthew 9:16-17.

No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak, for the patch pulls away from the cloak, and a worse tear is made. Neither is new wine put into old wineskins; otherwise, the skins burst, and the wine is spilled, and the skins are destroyed; but new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved.

The unshrunk cloth and new wine are like new Christians, and the cloak and wineskin are like the church. We can especially see a declining church in the damaged cloak. Members of a declining church often see solutions in new (and especially younger) members.

But the reality is, new members will need to grow and flex. They’ll be moving in new directions. A “damaged cloak” church can’t accomodate it, and the existing damage is made worse by yet another conflict.

Rather than try to assimilate new Christians into an old church, raise up missionaries to plant new churches. The old church has experience to offer, but its procedures, habits and patterns will smother new enthusiasm. Let it instead become a parent church fostering and releasing children churches to create new families, who will in turn raise and release their own children churches. Just as a family stays connected through regular correspondance and special gatherings, so churches can do, too.

Community

Christianity is not an individualistic experience.  My recent focus on personal spiritual growth can easily slip into this.  The book Pagan Christianity, which I’m reading now, highlighted my error for me.  Personal spiritual growth is vitally important, but in a communal, mutually-edifying context.

A lot of declining churches have plenty of large-group activities, which aren’t bad on their own.  What we’re missing is that edifying part, where we help each other walk with Christ in faith.  We end up skipping the walk part and just help each other be comfortable.  If we’re not going anywhere, it’s hard to properly edify.

This is where the idea loops back to personal spiritual growth.  Yes, we each need to be growing, but what Christ intended for his church was that we grow together.  It’s extremely messy, and woefully uncomfortable to be so close and naked around others.  The good news is we won’t be naked once we open up; we’ll be clothed in Christ’s righteousness.

Death of a Church

I think it’s okay for a church to die.  At my current church, suggesting the wisest course might be paying off the debts and closing the doors would be balked at. If my church were not so desperate for survival in the face of forty years of decline, the idea would be laughable.

But that’s precisely the problem. My church’s current ambition is survival. People here would love our congregation to thrive, but ultimately for its own sake. Why should such a place go on living? Of course, God can work an amazing transformation and resurrect this congregation. I certainly hope that’s why we’re still here.

I see numerous new church plants in the area. Some have buildings, but the best and brightest rent movie theaters and bars. Most aspire to property, which I can’t help but question. The vibrancy, outreach and mission action of these churches is awe-inspiring. I wonder what the face of Christianity would look like if every new church had to plant another new church within ten years. What if my dying church’s legacy was the five churches it planted in its fifty years? How would we feel about dying then?