The Perspective of Pat Loughery
Things They Tell Church Planters That Are Simply Wrong
May 5, 2008 // Tags: Church, Church Planting, Faith, incarnational, incarnational church, missional church
Next weekend, Mother’s Day, marks the fifth anniversary of the launch of the church that my family planted and that a year ago closed its doors (for the second but final time).
I’ve been thinking lately about the process of starting new churches. A lot of that thinking comes from me knowing that I still have work to do, that clearly I’m not in the retirement home for Christians like some worn out kitchen sponge that still holds water but is full of the stink of overuse.
I think we’ll end up leading a church again, but when or who or how is still up in the air. I have lots of thoughts on this topic, but none I wish to type at the moment. But I do know that the past four years - and the months before that which we spent preparing to launch our church plant were some of the most challenge and yet thrilling of my Christian life.
So here are some of the things we were told along the way that I just don’t agree with anymore, whether or not I did back then. Some were said directly, some just implied. And the folks that I read them from or heard them from - I really respect them, their lives, their churches. But I know these ways are not my way. Not then, and even more so now.
It’s all about Sunday.
Put all your energy into a great experience on Sunday, and build community out of Sunday worship services. Greet people who come to the door warmly, have great coffee and donuts, a good band, be welcoming and funny, treat the kids well so they’ll want to bring their parents back. If you’re dead to the world on Monday, or through Wednesday, so be it. Sunday is worth it.
For a church which gathers on Sundays, well, Sunday’s a pretty big day. And there’s a lot to be said for being hospitable and safe for the kids. But nowadays I think that if Sundays leave you - pastor or leader or guest - feeling worn out and drained, perhaps you’re missing the point of celebrating the the life of the Trinity, the risen Christ, in your life and the life of your community. What if the community’s gathering is actually refreshing, invigorating, restorative, re-creational?
If we can’t live an everyday faith, 7×24, because the events of last week crushed us, then our faith is out of balance. If we’re so focused on getting the chairs set up on Sunday that we’re not going to hang out with neighbors on Saturday night, then we’re missing the whole point.
If it’s not working, your signage or location is wrong
I was actually told this, along the way, when my response to “how big is the church now” didn’t satisfy the lady asking me the question.
In our tribe of churches, there used to be a day when you could literally put out an A-board sign and people would flock into the worship gathering. Stories are even told of the early days when people wouldn’t even put up a sign, but God’s Spirit would just divinely guide folks to a house in the suburbs where something was happening, and it would be overflowing.
Now, I think signage and maps and directions are helpful, for those that know they want to go. But I also think that, at least in the Pacific Northwest, those days are long gone. People who want to go to a church can find one in the newspaper or phone book or the local junior high building.
There’s a societal shift happening. The means and ways of the church’s expansion are shifting as well. Or at least they can be, and should be, and in some places are. Perhaps it’s about people, relationships, networks.
If it’s not working, perhaps God’s doing something else.
What counts is attendance, baptisms and signups for membership class
My tribe’s annual health check sent out to church plants asked those three questions: How many in attendance (and what count by racial heritage), how many did you baptize this year, and how many people have gone through your membership class.
In the church growth era and movement, we were told that if the church is a healthy organism, it must grow. Lack of growth was due to an internal restriction - bad programs or bad leadership or bad structures.
I always wanted to be able to write in the margins, to tell the story of the woman who’s doing pretty well with her crack addiction, or the couple who’s not fighting so much these days and their kids feel safe, or the guy who has a kind ear to listen to the crazy stories of the good old days. But they don’t make the margins very big on those forms. Probably because they can see smartalecks like me coming a mile away.
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