When I think of what the “church growth movement” gave me, my answers would be anxiety, shame, fear of failure, resentment, and a few other vague feelings which are gloomy and heavy, if unlabeled.
But it’s Lent, so perhaps I should repent.
Before I get too far, some of you may wonder what I mean by the “church growth movement.” Here is my brief and admittedly jaundiced account. Begun sometime in the 1960s or 70s (perhaps to counter the then-just-appearing decline of the American church?), it is a near-obsessive focus on the numerical growth of churches through methods and formulas, “recipes” and how-to’s from celebrity pastors. It asserts that evangelism is the primary purpose of Sunday worship. It measures church health and pastoral value solely by growth in membership. It is all about numbers.
In reality, it wasn’t Lent that caused my re-evaluation of the church growth movement. It was my experience over the past couple of years visiting churches and searching for a church home.
I realized how much I had been influenced by–even gained from–the church growth movement; and how many churches could benefit from merely the slightest primer. No, I still am not captivated by equations that take the number of parking spaces multiplied by the number of seats in the sanctuary divided by the median income of the neighborhood plus the hotness-rating of the youth leader, cubed. No, I don’t think that evangelism is the primary purpose of Sunday worship.
Still, traditional, mainline churches–the kind I visit and am drawn to–need to become more aware of visitors and the impression they give to guests.
I recall a discussion years ago with my church board about welcoming and hospitality. One older gentleman spoke up immediately. “We have a sign outside that says ‘Worship 10 am.’ If we tell them that, then the rest is up to them!”
That is an extreme example, but as I visited churches I began to wonder.
I fear that church hospitality is often assumed to be costly and slick, as if I am asking for gleaming facilities and high-priced gizmos. If so, the smaller church, the struggling church (and most mainline churches are) is doomed. Personally, I prefer homey and cozy to slick and glitzy. Even then, the facility needs to look like someone cares, someone is paying attention. But I have encountered things like the front door still locked five minutes before worship. Empty paper towel dispensers in the restrooms. Months old fliers still in the pew racks. Closets and classrooms akimbo with boxes, flotsam and jetsam.
For years, I had a running battle with a woman in my congregation who would go through the building on Sunday mornings, turning out lights, thinking she was being green. I tried to explain to her that on Sunday morning we were preparing to have company, we were welcoming guests. We wanted the space to feel bright, warm, and welcoming–not shadowy and dim. Even if not for the sake of hospitality, then certainly for safety. Why did we have lights if we weren’t going to use them on Sunday morning? We can be conserving the other six days of the week. I never fully convinced her.
I get a wry chuckle whenever I attend a public event and the sound system fails or isn’t up to the task. It makes me feel better about the many times church speakers and microphones fritz out. These things happen. However, in my recent role as a church visitor, I would say a good sound system is probably the one gizmo churches do need. Not being heard, mics going in and out, buzzing, humming, or pretending an unamplified voice carries so a mic isn’t really needed–these do not convey welcome.
Of course, it is about much more than paper towels and microphones. It is about people. It is about quietly yet persistently reminding the congregation that we are expecting company. It should not be the only message the congregation hears, but it needs to be a message they do hear.
I suspect the sorts of churches I visited want to be considerate, restrained. The last thing they want is to come across like used-car salesmen or game show hosts. Someone needs to tell them that they couldn’t be pushy if they tried. Discreet too easily becomes passive.
The first couple of times I visited a church I wanted to be starting my car by the third note of the postlude. Even as I bolted for the door, a simple nod and a “thanks for coming” wouldn’t have hurt. When I ventured into the post-worship coffee, my wife and I took our time sipping our drinks and then walked across the entire fellowship hall without a soul acknowledging us. Another time, it was other newcomers who struck up a conversation. Equipping people simply to say, “Hello, I’m so-and-so. I don’t believe we’ve met…” shouldn’t be that difficult.
Just as I don’t want to give the impression it is about technology or snazzy facilities, I also don’t want to put too much pressure on pastors. “It’s all up to me! Do I really need to check the paper towel dispensers every Sunday?” I know that feeling.
Nonetheless, pastoral leadership is essential–in being an example, in developing a culture of friendliness and welcome, in filling people with the notion that we are expecting company. Look for and welcome the guest before seeking out the comfortable, old friend. Widen the circle instead of circling the wagons.
“Church growth” will probably forever be associated with sure-fire formulas and neurotic nose-counting. Still, for churches that have been allergic to tricks and techniques, there are all sorts of small, practical, and personal things they can do to tell guests that they are wanted and welcomed.
Boxes photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash
15 Responses
Steve,
I remember the Church Growth Movement well. In many cases, it tried to replace sincere, gracious, loving hospitality. Although some congregations don’t know how to do gracious hospitality.
I was at WTS in the late 80s and I remember those Church Growth books (and heard of gurus). I was skeptical back then and even more so now.
Found myself nodding and smiling while reading this piece, Steve. Thanks!
The gift of ‘hospitality’ is one of the best things you and Sophie nurtured in your last congregation! We were pretty prim and proper when you came. I can’t remember the exact term but it was something like extreme hospitality. Thanks to that we continue to grow.
Just remembered! Radical hospitality!
As a couple who moved around a lot for work I know the pain and angst of attending a new to us church. From being ignored, stared at (followed by whispers to the friend next to them) to being told we are sitting in someone’s seat we have seen our share of ‘unwelcoming’ churches. The churches we became a part of (small and large) had someone welcome us, ask our name and introduce us to another person. They let us know where the bathrooms are, asked us unobtrusive questions and welcomed us to return. It wasn’t gimmicks that drew us in. It was welcoming people.
Amen
Amen and Amen. As retired couple we echo your thoughts. Send a copy to the BANNER. Ooops……too late!
As one who grew up in the Church Growth Movement and was reasonably successful at using its tools and “principles,” I look back with both appreciation and regret. Since it’s Lent and Steve started this, I’ll focus on one key regret that I believe damages the integrity of the church, particularly the pulpit, to this day. Whether openly stated as a “principle” or not, I’d suggest the CGM taught me to preach prophetically ONLY when my words did not rock-the-boat and only when that prophetic word was consistent with my homogeneous congregation’s views and our mission to “grow the church.”
I have overstated that a bit, perhaps, but intentionally so to make my point. As a result, it appears to me that in these current days prophetic preaching may result in the preacher losing his or her job. To put it another way, even suggesting there may be ways other than the traditional way of reading and interpreting the Bible is cause to fire the pastor or give permission for a wave of people to leave the church. I wonder sometimes if perhaps we sacrificed to the god of growth our ability to wrestle in community with important issues like those dividing us today.
I offer these thoughts fully aware that I came of age as a pastor in the 1970’s and most probably have an idealized perception of what came before. Yet I add these thoughts to the conversation with the hope that conversations in the church are still possible. (My apologies for fulfilling my selfish need to express a bit of cynicism at the end.)
Thank you. I am longing for many prophetic voices from many pulpits especially in today’s world. I also understand the angst and pressure that places on pastors.
There is a book that came out recently “Evangelical Idolatry”…the pastor lost 80% of his congregation and all but one elder when he abandoned the kind of preaching you are talking about in your first paragraph. We are in a time when preaching prophetically only works when your prophetic preaching agrees with what the congregation already wants, all other prophetic preaching will make you Jeremiah in the mud pit.
Awesome Steve. I remember my first Sunday at 2nd Reformed. Many people went out of their way to greet me. I try to find new people to greet these days but being in the choir, I find myself embarrassed when asking people if they are new. Fortunately when I say that I am in choir, they are not insulted.
At least you have a choir!
Your skepticism was shared by many of us when the denomination would send out men who had the 5 step plan to grow our fellowship. Even back then, my feeling was it was like a toad trying to be an eagle. You can have a beautiful building, manicured lawns, and soap in the bathroom dispensers, but if you are not a welcoming place with people who truly wish to know and see you, not even 20 steps will fix that. Hospitality, which is what Christ gave us example after example of during his ministry. Hospitality to the least of these. Luckily for us, our ability to welcome and enfold has expanded with our building. Are we bursting at the seams? No. But we are nurturing souls who are seeking to see Christ.
Today, as in the past, sincere Christians remain oblivious to visitors (dare I say, migrants) character and dedication. It takes a perceptive and adventurous person to walk into our halls. Because they are risk takers they are sensitive to nuances of hospitality or the lack thereof. They are spiritually hungry and listen closely, ready to discern if the “real deal” is there or not. They know whether it’s the church or a tribe or a social club meeting in Jesus name. And then, act accordingly.
At one congregation where my husband and I were relatively new, I asked a couple I hadn’t seen before if they were visiting. Mistake. The woman reared back and snapped, “We’ve been members here for 25 years!” I wanted to say, “Must not be here much, huh?” But I only pleaded my relative new-ness. Steve’s suggestion of “I don’t think we’ve met” covers it all!
I’d be glad for soap in the dispenser. The church I grew up in had a bar of gold Dial soap in the women’s restroom that had cracks in it, lined with grime. I think that same bar of soap stayed there for 30 years.
I grew up in the CRC. I identify so much with your comments here. My wife and my family have been in our city for 35 years. There are no churches here that identify as reformed. We’ve attended several churches here, looking for a place where the focus and energy was about Jesus and the kingdom of God.Most all the churches in our city are trying to do the latest and jazziest and get more people. My wife and I have started attending a small Episcopal church where we read scriptures together, say prayers together, recite creeds together and hear a gospel message from the lectionary. We love it and we love the 11 other people who attend.