Godly Vision

George Bullard is a church-leadership consultant. In a recent column, he has some very helpful comments on the sort of vision Christian leaders need to cultivate, in order to be most effective in serving God.

He begins by highlighting the sort of vision commonly practiced by many church leaders, which is little more then warmed-over tips from secular management literature:

"Leaders — even in Christian congregations — approach vision like church is an organization, a sports team or their country. It is about winning. It is about reaching tangible goals in the short-term. They cannot divide the success they see in the world around them from the success only God can offer.

This translates in everyday life for many congregations as a numerical measurement. Vision is a growing membership and attendance. Vision is program events that are wildly successful. Vision is surpassing the budget. Vision is filling the worship center. Vision is a full schedule of ministries. The source of these visions is our own pride."

In order to practice godly vision, we need to be in relationship with God. That means more than lip-service, or slapping "I love God" stickers on the bumper of the car. It means getting serious about spiritual discernment.

Bullard also makes the point that congregational visioning is a long-term process. No quick fixes. No handy-dandy questionnaires:

"Vision is not about quick results. Its fulfillment does not have to be fast. It is a commitment over a long period of time. Vision is not about what we will do this year. That is focusing on tactics. Vision is not about the next one to three years. That is focusing on strategies. Vision is about the long-term.

Vision is about changed behavior that develops in congregations over a period of years, and becomes hardwired in the Christ-centered, faith-based culture of the congregation."

There are things - good things, in many cases - that can get in the way of faithful visioning in congregations. Like the American flag in the sanctuary (full disclosure: we have one in our sanctuary - as pastor, I've chosen not to fight that particular battle, though I know it can be mildly idolatrous).

There's a whole raft of secularist assumptions related to money that likewise creep into congregational life: like the judgment that high-rolling big contributors are the people churches ought to be seeking out as members. Of course the church needs money to operate, but if money were the be-all and end-all, then the most successful church would be the one wealthy enough to hire employees to do all the work (hardly the sort of foot-washing servanthood taught by our Lord).

I think we also wander far afield from the Great Commission when we imagine that our goal in attracting new members is to replicate ourselves, to find more nice people like us to sit in our pews. In my experience it's people who stand out from the herd and bring gifts no one else can offer who have an outsized impact on the mission of a congregation.

If there's one thing Superstorm Sandy has taught our church in the coastal town of Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey, it's that the church is most effectively the church when we're doing mission ourselves. I have the feeling we were more authentically the church cooking food on our gas stove for the neighborhood, on those dark nights when nobody had electricity, than we've been while cooking any number of fellowship meals since (not that I'm knocking congregational fellowship, which is important in its own way - it's just not the main thing).

Finally, as Bullard makes clear, God is not in the reassurance business. God's in the transformation business:

"To be captivated by God’s vision is a paradigm shift. When such a shift occurs then everything goes back to zero....

When our church buildings, our unwillingness to take a stand for where God is leading us, and the pride we feel in our heritage are in conflict with God’s transformative vision, too many congregations reject God’s vision. They want change they can see and immediately measure. That is a transactional vision. God’s transformational vision is unseen and long-term."


Amen.

A Tale of Two Widows: Pensions for Cuban Pastors

Imagine going on a trip to track people down and give them tens of thousands of dollars. What a joy that would be!

But what a challenge it would be as well, if the place you're visiting is Cuba!

That task has been the passion of several very persistent staff members of the Presbyterian Board of Pensions for a great many years. It's a tale of knocking on the door of U.S. government bureaucrats again and again, for years, and simply refusing to take "No" for an answer.

An article referenced in a recent Board of Pensions newsletter tells the story. The heroes of the tale are Frank Maloney, a longtime Vice-President of the Board, and Ernesto Badillo, who made a number of trips to Cuba, even as he was receiving chemotherapy treatments for cancer.

There was growing urgency to complete the task, because many of the surviving pensioners are now in their 90s. Were they ever to benefit personally from this money they'd earned decades ago - as opposed to simply knowing that their heirs might see it someday - something had to change, and soon.

Which is where Frank and Ernesto came in. Like the persistent widow in Jesus' parable, they just kept banging on the government officials' doors until someone finally took action.

The backstory here is that, until a few years after the Cuban Revolution that put Fidel Castro in power, Presbyterian churches in Cuba were part of the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. Cuba was part of the Synod of New Jersey, and Cuban pastors would travel here for Synod meetings. Their churches contributed money into the Board of Pensions, so their pastors would have retirement benefits.

The Revolution changed all that. The U.S. regarded Cuba as being behind the Iron Curtain, and so embargoed all financial transactions. Long after relations between the U.S. and the Soviet Union (later Russia) had normalized, the Cuban embargo remained firmly in place - as it does even today. Meanwhile, the pension payments from the 1950s and 1960s sat in designated accounts, earning interest.

The Cuban churches subsequently formed their own national Presbyterian church, independent of the U.S.A.

A few of us - including myself - have managed to travel to Cuba as part of presbytery-to-presbytery mission partnerships, and have been able to receive occasional Cuban visitors as sisters and brothers in Christ (as our government granted them permission to come, on a case-by-case basis). During my two trips to Cuba, I've been impressed by the strength of this vibrant, rapidly growing denomination. Since Cuba adopted its new Constitution in 1990, they have been free to pursue their denominational life in a country that now practices religious tolerance.

Speaking of widows in Jesus' parables, there's another tale he told about a widow. This one is the familiar tale of the widow's mite. The widow in that story contributed a small coin - all the money she had - to the Temple treasury, while a nearby Pharisee took great pride in giving a larger sum that represented only a small portion of his great wealth.

La Fernanda Presbyterian Church

This story also includes a tale similar to the widow's mite. An earlier Presbyterian New Service article tells the story of one of the retired pensioners, Maria Josefa Nunez, a Christian educator. When Maria - who is in her 90s - learned that she would be receiving a $30,000 windfall from the Board of Pensions, she decided to use the money to buy a house adjacent to the overcrowded house-church she attends - La Fernanda Presbyterian Church, near Havana - so they could expand to accommodate their overflow crowd of worshipers. Thirty grand sounds like a lot of money to us here in the U.S.A., but in Cuba - with its controlled economy where U.S. dollars are worth a good deal more than Cuban money - it's a huge fortune.

So, the tale of the widow's mite - or, The Widow's Might, as the PNS article puts it - takes on new life in this present-day context.

Praise the Lord for good news stories like this one!

A Church With No Members?

A column I read today in The Presbyterian Outlook got my attention. Church-leadership consultant Tom Ehrich was writing about the declining popularity of church membership (“The New Age of Ad Hoc Connections,” Presbyterian Outlook, November 24, 2014).

While that may sound like bad news, he doesn’t think it’s necessarily so. It just reflects growing trends in the larger society against joining any kind of organization.

This is nothing new. Sociologists like Peter Berger have been telling us this for years. His famed bowling-leagues study documented how bowling has not diminished in popularity, although bowlers no longer like to join leagues and commit to being at the alley with their team one day per week.

The whole idea of “belonging” to a group just isn’t attractive anymore. Folks would rather go it alone, connecting with others in ad hoc ways as the need or opportunity arises.

“People are just living in different ways,” says Ehrich. “Not better or worse, just different. Wise church leaders will dial down the membership lingo and learn to offer a variety of venues, some of them ad hoc, where people can connect.”

As examples, he lists a number of brief-duration mission and service events churches have organized: packing seeds to send off to African farmers, building houses for Habitat for Humanity, delivering toys to needy children at Christmas, disaster-relief work, etc.

The membership rituals of the past hold little meaning, he goes on. “People today value groups and networks, but they want them to be free-flowing and ad hoc, centered in hanging out, last-minute planning and discovering new venues. This is an age of pop-up stores and restaurants.”

Could there ever be such a thing as a pop-up church? The Presbyterian Church is actually experimenting with such an idea, with its 1001 Worshiping Communities initiative. While not exactly pop-up churches, the new communities being fostered — based on informal gatherings in all sorts of places — do have something of that ad hoc quality. The idea is to experiment with new ways of being church together. Some of them may grow into recognizable congregations someday. Others may become something else altogether — but still a part of the Body of Christ.

Maybe Jesus himself provides a different standard. At the end of his Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, the king says: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” (Matthew 25:35-36)

Not a hint, there, of letters of transfer.

Don’t worry so much about membership, Ehrich assures us. “Churches should ramp up their communications, so that when a need arises, they can send out a call for caring. Then just let people serve as they can, without imposing a membership expectation.”

But how, then, to measure our successes and failures? The answer, I suppose, is “We don’t.” At the end of the day, it’s not our successes that matter. It’s what the Holy Spirit is doing in our midst.

What do you think? Is church membership growing obsolete? If so, what’s emerging in its place?

Goodbye, Peacemaking. Hello, Peacemaking and Global Witness.

A familiar feature of World Communion Sunday, for quite a number of years, has been the annual Peacemaking Special Offering. One of the changes made at this year's General Assembly was to broaden the scope of this offering, so as to add a "Global Witness" component. Now, we're being asked to promote a "Peace and Global Witness" offering.

I remember hearing about the change when I was at the General Assembly, but honestly, it didn't make a big impression on me at the time, what with all the other issues the commissioners were wrestling with. It hit home a couple weeks ago, when our church secretary brought me the bulletin inserts for the special offering, so I could choose which one we'll be using on each Sunday leading up to the offering.

They looked different. Not only that, but the name of the offering - Peace and Global Witness - is a mouthful.

It struck me that this change makes the offering much more difficult to interpret. What is "global witness," anyway - and what relationship does it have to peacemaking? Peacemaking is a fairly clear concept (even though we've had to work hard, over the years, to broaden people's minds about the many and varied settings where Christians are called to make peace).

Not so for "global witness." What is it, anyway?

I think I understand the reason for the change - even though the promotional information on the offering's main website page is none too clear. Previously, receipts from the offering (at the General Assembly level, anyway - there's always been some money retained by congregations and presbyteries for local work) have been disbursed by the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program. Now, a portion of the offering money will be used by the Presbyterian Mission Agency as a whole, for global activities related to peace and justice ministries.

You have to drill down through the web pages until you come to a pdf file of a "Leader's Guide" before you can find out much about the activities that will be funded under the woolly concept of "Global Witness." To get to the Leader's Guide, you have to go through a process that looks like you're ordering literature to be mailed out (perhaps at a cost), but in fact, clicking on the button takes you right to the (free) pdf file. Navigating this portion of the website, though, is far from easy.

This is a mostly bureaucratic change, a way of moving money around from one account to another at the national level of the church. The effect is to tap some of that Peacemaking money to cover deficits in funding our mission co-workers and other vitally-important global mission activities. It still fits the general definition, of course, so no one can really argue with it. But I don't think it's the greatest idea, and here's why...

Any change that muddies the waters of how special offering money is used makes the offering more difficult to promote in local congregations. "Peacemaking" we can describe without too much difficulty. "Peacemaking and Global Witness," not so easily. In the bestiary of special offerings, it's a multi-headed monster.

We live in an age when givers are eager to designate their gifts, to know exactly how they're being used. When special offerings are combined into these multi-purpose causes - an attractive option, in this age of declining mission giving, to those who read balance sheets in denominational offices - the descriptions of the offering lose their punch. They no longer sound "special," or specific, in their focus. We lose the advantage, the unique appeal, of a special offering.

It makes me wonder what sort of research the General Assembly staff did before recommending the change - whether they conducted focus groups of pastors or church members, for example, to find out what sort of name-recognition goes along with the phrase "Global Witness."

In the long run, I predict that decision will reduce the amount of money given, overall.

That's a pastor's perspective, anyway, from the front lines of mission interpretation. I wonder how much the Mission Agency folks considered that front-line perspective, when they made their administrative decision to recommend this change to the General Assembly?

A Hole in the Roof

Anyone who's been watching this blog has undoubtedly noticed there's been a long gap with no new posts. My last post was in October, 2013, just days before I ended up in the hospital with a pulmonary embolism in each lung. Various complications ensued, which led to several hospitalizations and a rehab stay of well over than a month, all told. Then, I had a lengthy period of recuperation at home, during which I was on disability. I returned to my church and presbytery duties a few weeks before Easter.

It's been a whirlwind since then, catching up. My breathing still isn't back to 100%, but I continue to progress.

I thought I'd restart this blog with a couple of photos that have a story behind them.

The first one you'll see is an exterior shot of the Morning Star Presbyterian Church in Bayville. I've been involved with that church since its inception in the 1990s, supporting and encouraging the Rev. Myrlene Hamilton Hess and her late husband and co-pastor, the Rev. Ed Hamilton, as they went about the challenging work of church-planting.

I was honored when they asked me to preach at the congregation's chartering service, as Morning Star officially became a congregation. I preached a sermon called "A Hole in the Roof," in which I told the story of a church that kept an opening at the apex of their dome, as a symbol of the importance of staying open to new things the Holy Spirit may be doing in their midst.

I didn't think too much about that sermon until several years later, when I again attended a worship service at Morning Star for the dedication of their building. I was astonished when Myrlene told me the church had a cupola because of my sermon!

She explained how the concept of a hole in the roof had been an enduring theme in their congregational life. When it came time to design the building, they told the architect they wanted to keep a hole in the roof somehow. His suggestion was a cupola, providing borrowed natural light while still keeping the rain out.

The second photo is an interior shot of the church sanctuary, looking up towards the cupola.

I told Myrlene I'd seen all sorts of things happen as the result of sermons I've preached, but never before have I had a sermon result in architecture!

It was all very gratifying. We preachers don't often know much about how our sermons impact our listeners - especially Presbyterians, who can be a pretty reticent bunch at times.

How is it for the church you know best? Do you keep a hole in the roof, so you can remain open to the Lord's leading in mission?

Seek the Welfare of the City

I've just returned from the PC(USA) Fall Polity Conference, the annual national gathering of Executive Presbyters and Stated Clerks. It was a rich time.

As is the usual practice, we met in the city where the next General Assembly will take place, which happens to be Detroit. The Assembly will meet there from June 14-21, 2014.

Often, the location of the Assembly has an influence on the experience of the commissioners - and, indirectly, on the outcome. It's hard to predict what this will look like in advance, but the "feel" of the host city is something all participants experience.

This time around, the impact of the location is becoming clear well in advance. Tom Hay, a member of the national staff who is in charge of working with the Local Arrangements Committee, mentioned in a presentation a number of anxious communications he has received, questioning whether Detroit is a safe place to meet.

It's no secret that Detroit is a failed city. The municipal government has filed for bankruptcy, and there have been sensationalistic news reports about crime, rampant drug abuse, non-functioning street lights and even packs of wild dogs roaming the streets.

The location of this Assembly was established a number of years ago, before the most recent round of urban problems had become apparent.

Having seen the downtown area around the Convention Center, though, I'm very comfortable in recommending it to commissioners and visitors. While city officials may have failed to provide essential services in some neighborhoods, this part of town, near the General Motors headquarters, is clearly their showpiece, and they have made sure visitors can move around that part of the city freely and with confidence - as much as in the downtown of any other major city. The People Mover - a monorail train that runs in a loop, connecting the principal downtown locations, is especially convenient (it only runs in one direction, but the loop is fairly short). I hope they have the capacity to put additional trains on the tracks during the Assembly's "rush hours," as hundreds of commissioners and visitors travel between their hotels and the convention center.

Several presenters at the conference made reference to the famous line of Jeremiah 29:7: "But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." With comfortable downtown hotels and a state-of-the-art convention center, the Assembly is hardly an exile experience, but the rest of the verse holds true. "Seeking the welfare of the city" is very much a part of the church's mission. If nothing else, the infusion of cash into the local economy may aid the city's recovery in some small way.

Is it too much to hope for that, as a result of the Detroit location, the 221st General Assembly will have a pronounced missional focus?

Mission or Missions?

One of the never-ending debates in the church has to do with a single letter: the letter "s" attached to the end of the word "mission."

We have a mission as Christians, no doubt. Our Lord gave it to us himself: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." (Matthew 28:19-20)

Our mission, at its most basic level, is to share the good news of Jesus Christ. Under that umbrella are many forms of witness: the direct work of evangelism, by which we make others familiar with the invitation of our Lord to join with him in personal relationship; and ministries of compassion, caring and witness, by which we do the work of Christ in the world. The two are closely related: a mission relying on word only, but lacking in meaningful deeds, is hollow. Conversely, a mission that takes the form of deeds alone can't claim to be any different than that performed by any secular charity.

Mission, in other words, takes many forms, and functions on many levels. All our individual mission activities take their place in the overarching mission of the Church of Jesus Christ.

The word "mission" also has another, more specific sense: that of a particular mission project. Think, for example, of the the late Dr. Albert Schweitzer, dedicating his life to operating his remote jungle hospital in Lambaréné, in the West African nation of Gabon. Dr. Schweitzer's hospital can be spoken of in the singular as a medical mission.

Note the absence of the "s." But that's only because there's one of them. Talk about Dr. Schweitzer's hospital along with the journeys of Scottish missionary David Livingstone in East Africa - the "Dr. Livingstone, I presume" guy - and what you've got is "missions" (plural).

Some of the more tradition-minded among us prefer that usage. They would rather speak of missions in the plural. By that they mean a collection of individual mission projects, to which their particular congregation sends money and, occasionally, volunteer workers as well.

Those who prefer "missions" to "mission" sometimes have a rather sharp boundary in mind as to what qualifies as Christian mission. "Missions," in their view, have more to do with activities that take place far away - either in the geographical sense, or in socio-economic terms - than the more familiar work of the church in its own local community.

Yet, I understand that work to be mission, as well. A fellowship meal that provides seniors much-needed opportunities to socialize with others. A confirmation class that plants the seed of faith in a young person's heart. A worship service that calls forth the praises of God's people, comforts them and inspires them to respond to God's call in their lives.

Those activities are mission, too.

When I was a kid, we had offering envelopes in our church that were divided into two sections, separated by a perforation. One side was printed with the words, "For Us." The other declared, "For Others." The perforations allowed the money-counters to literally tear the envelopes in two without actually opening them, so one portion could go to fund church programs in the local area, and the other be deposited in a benevolence fund, from which the congregation's general-mission payments were made, as well as designated support for particular mission workers.

The only problem with that was that the boundary-line between "Us" and "Others" was never all that distinct. In ministering to people on the local level, the congregation is, without a doubt, doing mission, just as surely as it's doing so in sending dollars to support mission co-workers overseas, or to send care packages to a refugee camp on another continent.

All this gets extremely complicated, on the presbytery level, when we begin to speak about per capita funds that are earmarked for what's often called "administration" and those that derive from "general mission" giving.

Yet, is even that distinction so clear?

Some of our per capita funds, for example, go to cover the costs of judicial process: when an investigating committee carries a complaint through to its judicial conclusion. Is THAT mission? Read the Preamble to the Rules of Discipline, which is among the most deeply theological portions of the Book of Order. The purpose of church discipline, the Preamble maintains, "is to honor God." It exercises discipline, among other things, "to preserve the purity of the church by nourishing the individual within the life of the believing community... to uphold the dignity of those who have been harmed by disciplinary offenses; to restore the unity of the church by removing the causes of discord and division." Disciplinary process can seem divisive at times, but when it functions at its Spirit-guided best, it leads to reconciliation between people who have been at odds with one another.

Sounds like mission to me.

And what about that money that goes to pay the electric bill at the Presbytery Office? Most people would call that "administrative overhead" and would feel uncomfortable if any of their general-mission giving made its way into electric-company coffers. Yet, the same people wouldn't think twice if some of the dollars they send to a Presbyterian hospital in India were to be used to pay their electric bill. Is the electricity over there fundamentally different from the electricity over here?

It should be pretty clear, by now, that, in the mission-vs.-missions debate, I tend to come down on the side that favors dropping the "s" whenever possible. To me, that bears witness to the fact that Christ's mission is one. And, if we truly pay heed to the full implications of the language, it helps us never to forget that the "mission field" is everywhere. Even right outside our front door.

What do you think?

For Hmmm... the Bell Tolls

We’ve changed our Good Friday practice at the church, in the last year or so.  Faced with dwindling attendance at the noon-to-three service we used to offer in conjunction with several other churches in the community, we finally gave up on that service and decided to hold one at seven p.m. in the evening, instead. Tonight we’re offering what we expect will be a simple but moving Taizé service, backed by the Chancel Choir, who are in the process of learning what contemplative chants are all about. We’ll see if perhaps we can start a new local tradition.

Because noon-to-three comprises the biblical hours of the crucifixion, this year we simply opened the church for prayer during those hours. It’s our last nod to the Good Friday afternoon worship tradition. I wasn’t in the Sanctuary the whole time, but to the best of my knowledge no one took advantage of the opportunity.

That’s not a huge surprise. The contemplative tradition feels foreign to many Presbyterians. We tend to be a pragmatic bunch — not the sort of crowd who flock to an opportunity to gather for silent prayer.

Besides, to a culture that increasingly worships youth and health with a zeal bordering on idolatry, the figure of a tortured man gasping out his last breath on a cross seems the antithesis of any sort of victory.

In past years, at three p.m., we would conclude the community service by ringing the church bell thirty-three times – symbolic of the years of Jesus’ life. Although the Sanctuary was empty, I went in there today anyway, took hold of the bell rope, and slowly rang it. Thirty-three times feels like an eternity, when you space the rings out with a few seconds in between each one.

Outside, through the stained-glass, I could hear the sound of traffic and glimpse the wraithlike shadows of passing cars: people on their way to who knows where, very likely oblivious to the tradition that three o’clock was the hour of Jesus’ death.

If they noticed the sounding of the bell at all, would they realize what it was about?

I’ve always found the ringing of church bells to be significant in ways beyond words. In the year of undergraduate study I spent in Oxford, I used to look forward to the time each Sunday evening when all the change-bell ringers from the parish churches and college chapels, by common agreement, simultaneously practiced their trade. It was a glorious cacophony I will never forget, a mellifluous, rippling series of sound waves washing over that city of spires.

In years past, church bells functioned as many towns’ public-notification system. Like the Emergency Broadcast System that interrupts radio and TV programming every once in a while for a test, church bells fulfilled that function in years gone by. Public joys, civic celebrations, urgent alarms: all were heralded by the ringing of the steeple bell. In the era before loudspeakers and sirens, it was pretty much the loudest, most sonorous thing around.

That function has long since been supplanted by electronic systems of various kinds. Our local volunteer-firehouse and first-aid sirens are way louder than any church bell in town. In the days following Hurricane Sandy, the local Office of Emergency Management sent out daily information bulletins via telephone robocall. A viral message on Facebook, as we all know, can reach millions in the space of a few hours, if its recipients are keen to propagate it through their slacktivist mouse-clicks.

All that made me feel like a bit of a dinosaur, yanking on that bell-rope thirty-three times in an empty sanctuary, beside a street filled with drivers on their way to who-knows-what sort of Easter holiday sale. (I’ve actually seen a few ads for Good Friday sales in recent years. Now there’s a sacrilegious cluelessness that beggars the imagination!)

American hyper-individualism has been on the rise for generations. Has it reached its spiritual apogee in today’s bland acceptance of “Have It Your Way” McReligion as the national creed?

“Cast off the ties that bound
Our hearts in Christian love:
The fellowship of kindred minds:
To that we give the shove.”

(I just came up with that. Inspired, or what?)

The bell-tone reverberates, over the parade of preoccupied passersby.  What can we do but sound it anyway, hopeful that, somewhere, someone looks up and displays a half-smile of recognition?

Sandy and Connectionalism

Connectional.

That's a word we Presbyterians are fond of using as we describe what makes us different from other Christian churches.

To be connectional is not to be hierarchical (with the church ruled from above), nor is it congregational (with the church governed as a pure democracy on the local level). Rather, the way we order our life together is a mix of both approaches.

We like to think we get the best of both worlds.

I've been seeing the advantages of our connectional approach as Point Pleasant Presbyterian's Sandy Recovery Team has been organizing our Volunteer Village - now operating in the Great Hall of our Education Annex. We're making our own decisions as to how, exactly, we're going to go about hosting these guest workers, but we're getting plenty of help along the way from the Presbytery's Sandy Recovery Committee and from Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.

Presbyterians are noted for hosting visiting volunteer workers in disaster areas, and the reason we've developed that specialty has something to do with our connectional nature. Every disaster is different, so people on the ground in the affected areas are best-equipped to call the shots.  Yet, the expertise of experienced aid workers - like the PDA National Response Team members who have been crisscrossing our local area, supporting congregations in their relief work - is something we could never replicate on our own.

This is one reason why we're able to reach out to our local area as part of the long-term recovery, drawing on resources to which other local churches have no access.

For years, we've been contributing to the One Great Hour of Sharing, received by churches of leading Protestant denominations on Palm Sunday or Easter each year. One-third of One Great Hour offerings go to support Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA). Few of us ever imagined we'd be recipients of PDA help ourselves, but Sandy has changed all that.

That's another reason why it's a great thing to be connectional.

Big Changes Are Proposed for the Synod

The future of Synods has been a lively subject of discussion in the church in recent years.  Although the most recent General Assembly declined to adopt a special committee's recommendation to eliminate Synods from the Book of Order completely - they pushed that proposal down the road, for the 2014 Assembly to deal with - it certainly seems like the church is on the verge of some big changes at the mid-council (presbytery and synod) level.

Knowing that change is in the air, and aware that our region of the country is one where the inclination to eliminate synods is strongly felt, the leadership of the Synod of the Northeast has appointed a Transitions Working Group (TWG) to do some creative thinking on the subject of the Synod's future and report back with some recommendations.

I've been privileged to serve on the Transitions group. I'm one of only two presbytery staff members to do so (the other is Cass Shaw, General Presbyter of the Presbytery of Albany). In putting together the membership of this group - in consultation with the Synod Council, who called for its formation - Synod Transitional Leader Harold Delhagen intentionally sought out people who have not been deeply involved in the Synod's governance, but who have been active in the church in other ways. There is a larger-than-usual complement of people in their 20s and 30s (of which I am, obviously, not one). The result is what we hope is a fresh perspective.

Our group has just issued our report to the Synod. We're hoping a great many Presbyterians within the Synod will read it and comment on it.  The TWG's Transitions Blog has been, for some months now, the most prominent feature of the Synod's home page.

So, what's in the report?  If I had to boil it down into a single sentence, it would be something like this:

We are encouraging the replacement of rigid Synod governance structures

with both open-source and inter-presbytery networks,

and encouraging a Synod-wide dialogue among presbyteries about redrawing their boundaries.

That language does not come from our report.  It's my own shorthand summary of its principal recommendations.

A capsule summary like that inevitably comes out sounding like bureaucratic gobbledygook, so let me use the rest of this post to unpack that a little.

Foundational to our report is the recommendation that the Synod become what the Book of Order calls a "reduced-function synod" (G-3.0404). The Synod, after seeking approval of two-thirds of its presbyteries, would have to petition the General Assembly to make this change. Under the reduced-function guidelines, the Synod Assembly would be reduced in size to one ruling-elder commissioner and one teaching-elder commissioner from each presbytery, and would only meet once every two years. The principal function of the Synod Assembly would be to appoint members of the Permanent Judicial Commission, approve whatever limited budget the Synod would have, and to conduct whatever other financial or legal business is necessary.

Having recommended that move, however, we also think more needs to happen at the Synod level than the minimum required under the reduced-function model.  We're calling for some of the Synod's functions to be passed on: both to a variety of new "networks of passion, interest and need" that would function on a flexible, open-source model, and to the presbyteries.

We're making just two recommendations:

RECOMMENDATION #1

That the Synod reduce its governance functions and refocus its resources, creating two types of networks to support the role of presbyteries in strengthening the mission and ministry of its congregations:
a. networks of passion, interest, and need such that our connectional nature and our diversity can be used to enrich and grow the capacity of all;
b. networks of presbyteries (mission areas) collaborating to assure adequate leadership within their bounds

RECOMMENDATION #2
That a portion of those resources be used to foster presbyteries to engage together in a study of their own boundaries, particularly with regard to their capacity to sustain long‐term leadership commensurate with their needs. It is anticipated that this will require the appointment of a Boundaries and Leadership Commission, the provision of consultants, and the planning of a Synodical Convention. The purpose of the Convention would be to facilitate and coordinate presbyteries’ requests to the General Assembly for such boundary changes as may be necessary for the future strength of their witness and service.

One of the things we learned as we went about our work is that the Synod of the Northeast is blessed with substantial financial resources - well over 10 million dollars, much of that undesignated - much of which can (and ought to) be distributed to the presbyteries, should the Synod reduce its functions. In that event, we have a rare, one-time opportunity to strategically direct those funds in order to establish and strengthen the ministries of both types of networks, so the mission of the Synod may be strengthened as well.

Consequently, we're recommending that funds be made available to foster the growth of open-source networks of passion, interest and need. These networks would bring like-minded Presbyterians from throughout the Synod together to accomplish important work for the good of all. Here are some examples of the sorts of networks that could be formed (not an exhaustive list, by any means):

     ‐ Early Ministry Institute (EMI)
     ‐ Racial Ethnic (language-based or other emerging identity) Caucuses
     ‐ Northeast Collegium (executive presbyters group)
     ‐ Advocacy
     ‐ Stated Clerks group
     ‐ Interim Pastors group
     ‐ Mentoring and/or Coaching groups
     ‐ Support/mutual resourcing for leaders of presbyteries and congregations in distress or “survival mode”
     ‐ Prison Ministry support
     ‐ New Worshiping Communities
     ‐ Tentmakers (bi-vocational pastors) group
     ‐ Emergent Leaders group
     ‐ Young women pastors group
     ‐ Presbyterian Women of the Synod

The second type of network, by its very nature, may look a little more familiar, because it's actually a system of networked presbyteries. In the initial stages, the Synod would facilitate the establishment of networks of three or more presbyteries that the report dubs "mission areas." The Synod would accomplish this by making a major, up-front grant to each presbytery consenting to enter such an arrangement, followed by a five-year program of diminishing grants. Those grants would start at something like 90% of the cost of a full-time staff person serving three presbyteries, diminishing to around 10% in the final year. Presbyteries could use these grants in whatever way they wished, as long as they supported the goal of establishing inter-presbytery cooperative leadership.  Presbyteries could keep whatever paid leadership they presently have; or, they could move, over time, to save funds by migrating their paid leadership positions into the multi-presbytery arrangement. Networks of more than three presbyteries would receive proportionately higher grants in the aggregate, because each individual presbytery would bring essentially the same amount of money to the mission-area table.

If the proposal makes its way through both the Synod Council and the Synod Assembly, gaining approval in its present form, what difference would that make to us here in Monmouth Presbytery?

We're already in a partnership with New Brunswick Presbytery. If we found at least one neighboring presbytery to join our partnership (for example, West Jersey Presbytery), each of us would then, as part of a mission area of three, be eligible to receive the one-time initial grant (which the report suggests could be $50,000).  That would be followed, in subsequent years, by the five-year diminishing grants supporting shared leadership. In the first year of the five-year period, we'd collectively receive, as a three-presbytery cluster, a grant in the neighborhood of $108,000 ($36,000 each), then a steadily-diminishing amount in each of the four years thereafter. Over the five-year period of the grant, each of our three presbyteries would need to make whatever budgetary or program changes we felt we needed to make, in order to contribute our steadily-increasing share of the cost of mission-area leadership.

The end result would be that, after seven years (two years for initial organization, followed by five years of the leadership grants program), we would have consolidated many of our professional-leadership expenses  at the mission-area level, while retaining whatever individual professional staff we felt we needed and could afford.

At the very least, some presbyteries would likely decide to have no staff other than a part-time stated clerk and perhaps a part-time support-staff person. At most, others would retain their own executive presbyter, supporting professional leadership at the mission-area of a more specialized nature (stewardship consultants, Christian education consultants, etc.).

The Synod would not prescribe in any detailed way what sort of staffing patterns or structures the mission areas would ultimately adopt; there would continue to be a high degree of autonomy at the presbytery level. The mission-area boundaries themselves could shift over time, as well. As creatures of the presbyteries rather than the Synod, the mission areas would serve the needs of their member presbyteries, as well as offering them ways of joining together in common mission.

It's possible that the New Jersey presbyteries could decide to come together in a larger, statewide mission area. Some have suggested that recreating something similar to the old Synod of New Jersey would be a good thing. According to that scenario, this New Jersey Mission Area would then consist of seven presbyteries (West Jersey, Monmouth, New Brunswick, Elizabeth, Newark, Newton and Palisades), which would be able to pool their leadership-grant money  to recruit a somewhat larger number of resource specialists than any three-presbytery cluster could support on its own. It's possible that some New Jersey presbyteries would prefer to retain their own executive presbyter or other professional staff; others could decide to throw their lot in with the mission area for everything, even committing additional funds to make that happen.

The plan is gently directive that way, but not prescriptive.  It uses the grants program as a positive incentive to invite the presbyteries, in this era of diminishing resources and heightened missional needs, to consider covenanting together in some new and mutually-beneficial ways. It does that without requiring presbyteries to fully merge, which could result in presbyteries so large that present traditions of intimacy and community could be lost.

(By the way, the Korean-speaking congregations in our area belonging to the non-geographic Eastern Korean Presbytery could continue to associate with one another, as they presently do, in a single Korean-language presbytery. They would be eligible for grant funding comparable to that of an individual presbytery, although they would not be required to join a mission area in order to receive the grant.)

That's Recommendation #1: a significant deployment of Synod funds to establish two types of networks. Recommendation #2 stands on its own, regardless of what happens to #1, but could very well complement it. It is a one-time, major study of presbytery boundaries.  As the report explains:

"Our system of presbytery boundaries belongs to a much earlier era, when there were more than twice as many Presbyterians and when communication and transportation resources were less efficient than they are today. The original standard used for drawing some presbytery boundary lines, in the era before automobiles, was the placement of certain communities along railway lines; many of these trains stopped running and the tracks were torn up half a century ago. Communities belonging to the same county are often split among two or more presbyteries, negating the collective influence the churches could have in advocacy and in community mission coalitions. Massive population shifts have taken place as well. Yet — largely out of institutional inertia — the old boundaries persist, unexamined, in many cases to the detriment of effective ministry. The lack of capacity within some of these historic boundaries to find and support the leadership necessary to maintain the church has lifted this issue to a critical level.

A comprehensive redrawing of presbytery boundaries is long overdue, but can only be accomplished by bringing presbytery leaders together at the same time, to share their perceptions of local needs and to discern the Spirit’s leading, as they jointly prepare proposals to bring back to their presbyteries for vote."

This post has already gone on long enough, so I'll simply suggest that you read the report for full details on how this consultation would be accomplished. It involves a process of preparation and study guided by some expert organizational consultants, followed by a one-time Synodical Convention, at which specially-appointed representatives of the presbyteries would come together to discuss possible changes. They would bring their recommendations back to their presbyteries, which would then vote on whether they wanted to request the General Assembly to make those boundary changes.

As with Recommendation #1, in this second recommendation the initiative and final decision remains with the presbyteries.  The Synod's role would be as a consultant and a broker, providing the presbyteries with the information and resources to undertake these discussions thoroughly and faithfully.

That's what's in the report.  It's now in the hands of the Synod Council, which meets from September 21-22, and after that the full Synod Assembly, which meets from October 19-20. As with any report presented by a working group, once it gets to the deliberative body, anything can happen.

Whatever happens, though, you heard it here first!

The Open Door

The 220th General Assembly is unusual in that its Sunday-morning worship was not in the familiar cast-of-thousands, stadium-style format.  Rather, local congregations of Pittsburgh Presbytery invited their ecclesiastical visitors from afar to come worship with them.

This morning, along with two others – my roommate, Paul (stated clerk colleague from Elizabeth Presbytery), and Doug (campus minister at Eckerd College) – I drove to one of the churches not on the official list.  Turns out, the only reason this church hadn’t rolled out the red carpet along with others from Pittsburgh Presbytery is that, at the time the local arrangements committee was putting the list together, this congregation didn’t have a Sunday morning service.  They used to meet only in the evening.

You’ve probably figured out by now that this bunch is “not your father’s Presbyterian Church” (to paraphrase that old car ad).  The Open Door is a self-described “missional church community.” It meets in a churchy-looking building that is, technically, no longer a church.  It’s a former Baptist Church that’s now a community center, from which the Open Door rents space on Sunday mornings.

In many ways, their worship looked and sounded familiar.  It followed the typical Presbyterian order of worship, although in a very informal way.  While there were no hymnbooks, the words projected on the wall came from traditional hymns.  The singing was accompanied by a single guitarist (I understand this isn’t always the case, and that they often sing other songs besides).  Still, this decidedly younger crowd did fine with the traditional hymns, which are obviously part of their repertoire.

The sermon by Pastor B.J. Woodworth – who on this sweltering summer day was clad, like most of his congregants, in baggy shorts and a loose-fitting shirt – was on the Kingdom of God, and was quite good.

The Open Door folks are pretty mission-oriented (true to their motto).  Today’s service included the laying-on of hands – not to ordain officers, but rather to commission several interns who are working in an “urban farming” vegetable-garden project.

The Passing of the Peace was something else altogether.  The actual “Peace-be-with-yous” were over pretty quickly, but the interlude continued for probably 10 minutes, with folks moving around to visit with one another, fetch cups of coffee, etc.  Obviously, fellowship is a big part of what this church is all about, and the boundary between worship and the rest of congregational life is pretty porous.

The biggest eye-opener for me, though, was personal. Two of the worshipers were dead ringers for our son and daughter, both twenty-somethings.  Not only did they look like Ben and Ania, they also dressed like them. (Readers who have met our kids will probably be able to pick these young adults out in these pictures.)

Knowing that, at this stage of their lives, my kids – whose names remain on the roll of the church I serve for the sake of good old dad – don’t make congregational worship a regular part of their week, it was a powerful thing for me to see their döppelgangers so actively involved here at The Open Door.

It made me wish there were an Open Door worshiping community in their neighborhoods, so I could point them in that direction.

Maybe we’ll just have to start one in Point Pleasant.

A statistical presentation at the General Assembly this afternoon reported that the average age of Presbyterians is 60 and climbing. Obviously, we’ve got to rethink some of the things we’ve long been doing in worship.

It’s becoming more and more evident to me that the future of the denomination is in church-planting efforts like The Open Door.  So, what are we waiting for?

We're All Called Into Mission

Today I was reading a missionary letter by Dr. Karla Koll, a university professor who is one of our PC(USA) overseas mission workers in Guatemala.  (These mission letters, posted on our denominational, website, are well worth keeping up on, by the way; they're a treasure trove of stories for interpreting to our people how their contributions are put to good use for Jesus' sake.)

Dr. Koll was telling a story that highlights one of the problems we're having, these days, helping Presbyterians feel connected to mission:


"A few years ago I was talking with an elderly woman who was a member of a Presbyterian church in the United States. I asked her how she was involved in mission. 'I can't be involved in mission,' she told me. 'I'm not able to go on a mission trip.' Her answer broke my heart. How many churches have reduced involvement in God's mission to a particular mission practice in which only active adults and teenagers with sufficient resources to buy a plane ticket can participate?


All Christians are called into mission. In the local church, each and every believer, from the kindergarten children in Sunday school to the folks whose health keeps them shut in at home, should discover the ways in which they can participate in God's work in the world. Some of the most faithful supporters of my work in mission are women who faithfully pray for me and my colleagues at CEDEPCA, even though they are no longer able to participate very actively in their local churches."


It's a great thing that so many of our churches are planning short-term  mission trips that take members of the congregation to areas of need, in this country and overseas.  These can be life-changing experiences, and can revitalize a congregation's attitude towards mission beyond the local community.


Yet, as Karla's story indicates, mission trips can easily become the proverbial tail that wags the dog.  If our congregation becomes so enamored of the short-term mission trip that they stop feeling connected to general, undesignated Presbyterian mission, then we've got our priorities askew. It's a great thing if the youth group can travel to some storm-ravaged community for a week and learn how to hang sheetrock, or even fly to a two-thirds-world country and install a water pump for the community well, but when the week's over, they're back home again and the mission work is ended.  Mission workers like Karla are the ones who stay behind, who immerse themselves in the lives and culture of Christian communities overseas.  They do things, for the glory of God, that no short-term mission tripper could dream of.


Both the short-term and the long-term mission outreach are important.  Yet, they're fundamentally different, and we need to keep a balance between them.


Yes, I realize designated mission giving is all the rage these days.  Yet, let's not forget the value of learning about what mission workers like Karla are doing, and telling their stories to our people every chance we get.


We are all connected.  We are all working together.  We are Presbyterians in mission.

Encouragement from Cuba

Some Monmouth Presbyterians may remember Edelberto Valdes Fleites, a pastor from the Central Presbytery of the Presbyterian and Reformed Church of Cuba.  Edelberto itinerated among churches of our Presbytery several years ago, as an International Peacemaker sponsored by the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program.  Some of us also had the opportunity to meet him in Cuba, as well, on mission trips our Presbytery conducted in coordination with the Central Presbytery.

In addition to serving as a pastor, Edelberto is currently Executive Secretary of the Central Presbytery, with which we continue to be in mission partnership.

I just saw Edelberto's name in a Presbyterian News Service article, in which he was being interviewed about signs of hope he sees for the renewal of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), growing out of the denomination's 1,001 New Worshiping Communities emphasis.  This view of our church from an overseas vantage-point is worth reading. Here's an excerpt:

What did you do in Cuba when it became difficult to be a Christian? 

First we did everything we could to give our churches tools to help them live our faith in the world and be willing to pay a price to be a Christian. We produced many theological documents about how to live in a socialist society, trying to have our church be strong in its faith in the here and now, rather than thinking about life in heaven. We discovered that if you want to be a Christian, you have to live it by actions, instead of just talking about it.

What did you feel as you read about the 1,001 new worshiping communities, which you refer to as “signs of hope”?

I felt that the Presbyterian Church isn’t wasting time, resources, and life discussing items that aren’t important. It’s as if the church decided to be an alive church, instead of a comfortable one that waits for people to come. It is good to hear of these communities that are involved with people, searching for them, walking with them and the problems they have. To me that is a sign of hope. I visited PC(USA) churches five times. Often I found buildings with lots of stuff, nice conditions to work with, but without passion for people. I could feel that.

What would you like to say to these new worshiping communities?

Be encouraged, continue on! I share with you my strength and hope, that you are becoming like Jesus, who walked on the roads many times, being close to people’s problems, giving them holistic healing.

What kind of experiences would you talk to them about?

The experiences we had here when we couldn’t talk openly about our Christians faith in our schools, jobs, or even in our families because it could be the beginning of serious problems. But we survived as a church because we decided to serve Jesus by serving the people. Not with good speeches, but with actions that declare the Christian faith is more than words.

Tell me more about the meaning of your last words “go ahead” and the exclamation points?

In the Old Testament, when Moses was with the people in front of the Red Sea with the Egyptian army behind them, God told him, “Tell my people to walk!” It sounds like a crazy phrase, but if you think about it, many times life paralyzes us. It is so good to know that God is pushing us to continue struggling even when we are surrounded by bad situations. Isn’t that the meaning of resurrection?

One Foot in the ECO?

Many of us have been following with keen interest - and, in some cases, deep concern - the news of the formation of the Fellowship of Presbyterians, and especially the newer group calling itself the Evangelical Covenant Order, or ECO.  Periodically throughout our history, disgruntled Presbyterian conservatives have formed such breakaway denominations, but their history is not encouraging.  The new denominations have tended not to flourish in the long term, and they have often been subject to repeated splits.  Our history has demonstrated, over and over again, that the habit of schism, once indulged, is a difficult one to break.

Unlike earlier breakaway movements, the ECO, in its published statements, seems reluctant to use the “D” word - “denomination” - in describing itself.  It prefers the word "order," and in using it, has drawn parallels between itself and religious orders of the Roman Catholic Church like the Jesuits and the Franciscans. This is troubling, because the woolly language may mislead some congregational leaders into thinking they can vote to affiliate with the ECO without involving Monmouth Presbytery in the decision-making process.  ECO leaders may prefer to speak of “affinity groups” and “a new way of being the church in a post-denominational era,” but such vague language doesn’t alter the fact that the ECO is, in fact, a new Presbyterian denomination.

Despite its leaders’ hesitancy to use the “D” word, the ECO looks, walks and quacks like the proverbial duck - the “D” referring to “denomination,” of course, not “duck.”

This is not true of The Fellowship of Presbyterians.  Congregations who are so inclined may affiliate with The Fellowship without involving the Presbytery - although it would certainly be courteous to inform their Committee on Ministry liaisons of their intention to do so, and even to invite them to come speak to congregational leaders before a vote is taken.

The ECO, however, is a horse of a different color. While the “Polity” document of the ECO welcomes both congregations that wish to be "graciously dismissed" from the PC(USA) and become outright members, and those who wish to remain in the PC(USA) but have dual affiliation, the PC(USA) Form of Government has some very explicit provisions relating to the formation of “Union Congregations” - those that are affiliated with the PC(USA) and another denomination simultaneously.

Our Constitution does not permit congregations to simply vote to affiliate with the ECO – nor any other denomination – without first obtaining the permission and support of their PC(USA) presbytery for doing so.  This is true even of those who envision themselves maintaining dual affiliation: one foot in the PC(USA) and one foot outside it.

The PC(USA) Office of Constitutional Services in Louisville has recently issued Constitutional Musing #25, “Joint Congregational Witness,” on this very topic.  Ruling elders and teaching elders of any congregation who are considering establishing a relationship with the ECO would do well to read this document very, very carefully, and then to officially notify Monmouth Presbytery, in writing, that they are contemplating such a step, well in advance of any Session or Congregational votes on the subject.  A Session or Congregation who votes to affiliate with the ECO without bringing the Presbytery into the decision - even under the understanding that they will have “one foot in and one foot out”of the PC(USA) - is in violation of the Form of Government and could be subject to ecclesiastical discipline.  The Form of Government is clear that such Union Church relationships may only be established by explicit consent of the PC(USA) presbytery (G-5.05).

“But, aren’t we living in a post-denominational age?” some may counter.  “The ECO is simply ‘pursuing a new way of being the church.’  This is merely a ‘mission partnership’ we want to be involved in. We want to be nimble and flexible, ever open to the Holy Spirit’s leading. We mean no harm.  In fact, we mean to do a great deal of good, for the sake of the Lord!”

That may well be - and in that case, those interested in the ECO should easily be able to convince the Presbytery, through its Committee on Ministry, that their motives are pure, and that they wish to pursue their decision-making process with total transparency.

In John 12:36, our Lord encourages us to be “children of light.” Ephesians 5:8-13 says: “For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light.... everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light.”  If a decision to affiliate with the ECO - with both feet, or just with one - truly belongs to God’s light, then it can certainly withstand the light of scrutiny by the Presbytery at every step along the way.  The Presbytery is, after all, but a group of brothers and sisters in the Christian faith who are likewise striving to live in the light.

We never do agree on everything, in the church – haven’t, since the days of the Apostle Paul – but at least we in the Presbytery of Monmouth ought to be able to agree that, for the sake of our common relationship in the Lord, we owe one another clear communication and full transparency on anything and everything relating to the Fellowship of Presbyterians and the ECO.

It's the Water, Not the Container

(Writing my annual Pastor's Report for our church's Annual Report booklet, I decided to do something a little different this year.  Because I'm describing challenges facing every congregation in these days of rapid change, this will have some interest for others beyond the Point Pleasant Presbyterian Church...)

There’s an old joke shared among those who know the Presbyterian Church well – although you can actually pull out our denomination’s name and drop in just about any other: “How many Presbyterians does it take to change a light bulb?”

“Did you say... CHANGE?!?!”

By and large, churches don’t handle change very well.  That’s because an important part of what we do in the church is preserving tradition.  Everyone knows that.  On any given Sunday, a significant portion of worshipers have chosen to come because they’re dismayed at developments they’ve seen in the world around them, and are wishing to hold fast to time-honored beliefs and values.

Who can quarrel with that?  I certainly wouldn’t.   

Sometimes, though, we confuse the packaging with the product.

Is it the tune of a familiar hymn that’s truly important, or the spiritual experience it calls to mind?  Is it the expectation that men will wear ties and jackets to worship, or is it their determination to approach God with respect and reverence?  Is it using the same sort of offering envelopes our parents used, or is it using whatever giving method is most consistent with the way we manage money today?

A thirsty traveler rescued from the desert will accept a drink of water just as readily from a tin cup as from a crystal goblet.  It’s the water that’s the thing, not the container that bears it.

It’s all about discerning the difference between the container and its contents.

During the past year, it’s become increasingly clear to me that an era of change will soon be upon us in this congregation.  We’re not unique in this.  Churches everywhere are learning not so much that change will one day come to their neighborhoods, but that it’s already arrived.

This calls for adaptations in our basic approach.  For years, churches have comforted themselves with the familiar line from the film, Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come.”  The assumption behind that bit of Hollywood-manufactured folk wisdom is that large numbers of people out there are peering in our windows, looking for a church to join, and if we simply work hard and “do church” better than others, they will choose us.

There’s only one problem with that way of thinking.  Fewer and fewer people today are looking for a church to join.  Period.  Like it our not, the style of spiritual seeking in our culture has shifted from communal to individual.  It’s all about a person’s individual quest for meaning.

If a seeker encounters congenial friends along the way, so much the better – but to most, it’s not essential.  If one church “has it all,” providing a one-stop spiritual shopping destination, that’s a fine thing.  But most people won’t see it that way.  To them, grazing from church to church, picking here and choosing there, likely fits the bill much better.  And that doesn’t even take into account the explosive growth of first television, and now the internet, as spiritual destinations – bypassing most traditional bricks-and-mortar churches altogether.

The younger generations we’ve traditionally counted on to come back to church to get married, then return a while later to have their children baptized, then eventually sign up for Sunday School, aren’t showing up in nearly the numbers they have in the past.  In part, that’s simply because there are fewer of them out there: the average age at marriage has risen precipitously in the past decade or two.  But it’s also influenced by the nearly universal reality of two-paycheck households, and by the fact that it’s rare for both parents in such a household to have the same day off, and for that day to be Sunday.

The 1950s stereotype of the nuclear family of working Dad, stay-at-home Mom, and 2 or 3 kids all coming to church together – in a world where not much else is happening on Sundays – simply doesn’t exist anymore.  It was becoming less true for my own generation, the Baby Boomers, as we were growing up – and it’s certainly no longer true for our children, who are not only fewer in number, but who (because of that deferred-marriage thing) just aren’t looking for their grandparents’ church.  Not now, anyway.  Not at this point in their lives.  And, very likely, not ever.

So, “If you build it, they will come” just doesn’t make much sense anymore.

What does make sense, then?

Something we’ve always known to be true, but that we’ve somehow, in all our program-building busyness,  managed to push to the back burner: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” It’s Jesus’ “Great Commission,” Matthew 28:19-20.

Notice Jesus doesn’t say, “If you build it, they will come.”  He says, “Go out into the world, and I will go with you.  Always.”

He doesn’t even tell us where we must end up.  He just says, “Go.”

Friends, if Point Pleasant Presbyterian is going to continue strong into the future, we’ve got to figure out how to go out into the world again – and not even the world as a whole.  Our local community would be a fine start.  It’s called mission, and it’s not what you may think.  It’s not a matter of contributing money so people can do the work for us.  The sort of mission we need to discover is something we can only do ourselves.

A great theologian once wrote, “The church exists for mission as a fire exists for burning.”  Please pray that the Holy Spirit will kindle such a fire among us anew.

What do you think?  Is this an accurate description of the spiritual landscape today?  What would you add, from your experience?

Please scroll down and post a comment.  I'd love to hear from you.