It was just before Christmas when she handed me a gift.
‘This is not your Christmas gift,’ she said in her clipped British accent.Her accent intimidated me at first: it sounded stern. She was a woman used to people paying strict attention when she spoke.
When she would say, ‘I have a question about your sermon…’, it made my palms sweat a little.At first.
Then I got to know her, and I understood she was a woman of fierce intelligence and incredible curiosity. Someone whose life experiences had toughened her in some ways, and softened her in others. She was deeply faithful and kind, and often had a mischievous glint in her eye.
Just two months before, she had taken me to lunch - we both had October birthdays, and it seemed fitting to celebrate together. She told me much about her life then, and she also said something I carry with me always…
First, she admitted it took her a bit to warm up to me, too. But now I was in her good graces (and grateful to be).
’Because,’ she said, ‘you are a respecter of people. You listen to them, even when you don’t agree.’
I don’t think I’ve ever received a higher compliment.Two weeks before Christmas, she handed me the gift. It was a book: English church history, of course.
’This is not your Christmas gift’, she said in her stern yet warm way. ‘It’s just something I thought you’d like.’
I thanked her, of course. And as she walked out the door, I said something that I often say to my church people:
’I love you.’
’I love you, too,’ she said.
Those are the last words we ever spoke to each other. Just moments later, on her way home from church, she was in a terrible accident and died.
Nothing forms community like church.
Sharing our faith, our work, our struggles and joys. Celebrating the beginning and ending of our lives, and everything in between.
Following Jesus together as the source of our hope and our joy.
This bonds us in ways that are deep. It gives us meaning and purpose.
It brings together people who would not ordinarily share their lives - from different generations, different circumstances.
Like everything else in the church, though, this kind of community is becoming more rare, more difficult to find.
More congregations report conflict and struggle.
More congregations are closing.
When we are at church, it can feel more perfunctory - showing up for worship, maybe social hour. Saying hello to those we know, but not engaging in deep conversation or sharing.
It makes me wonder - is the institutional church decline causing our communities to weaken, or is weakening community part of what’s causing church decline?
Either way, it’s distressing. Christian community is foundational - it’s impossible to be a Christian alone.
And it’s not just Christians who suffer. I’s becoming more clear that church community grounds our whole culture - whether you’re a member or not.
Derek Thompson, in his article called ‘The True cost of the Churchgoing Bust’, mourns the fact that - no matter what your beliefs - church has historically provided a place of community. A place to form deep, intergenerational relationships.
A place where we love and are loved that is ‘like family’ - as churches often describe themselves. Sometimes it’s more than that.
Thompson says:
Maybe religion, for all of its faults, works a bit like a retaining wall to hold back the destabilizing pressure of American hyper-individualism, which threatens to swell and spill over in its absence.
For the rest of the year, I’ve decided to go full Hokusai - parroting his ‘36 Views of Mount Fuji’ - and just describing what I’m seeing.
36 views of the future of church.Where the ‘Good Stuff’ of church is, and how we can let go of the ‘stuff’ that no longer supports our ministry.
View #7: Are you feeling the love?
I know how fortunate I am to serve with the church I do. We share our lives easily - through deep conversations and silly ones. We say, ‘I love you’ easily. We take care of each other in God’s name.
And we focus on practicing the faith.
My dear friend who died had different political views than I do. I’m not sure she believed that women should be ordained. None of that mattered to our friendship, and none of it mattered to our deep commitment to following Jesus in our lives.
I believe that the future of church is focused more on how we are all the same than about our various differences.
And about sharing this fundamental fact: that we are all loved, fully and completely, by the God who created, redeemed, and sustains us.
Our church is 'like family'
In the course of my career as a priest, I’ve sat with groups of church leaders dozens of times.
Here’s what I see:
Thompson mourns the decline of churchgoing, because it means the loss of a place of deep community for more and more of us.
I can’t help seeing it the other way around:
If our churches are not providing deep community, then there is a decline in churchgoing.
Church community is fundamental, but it’s not automatic.
What I see is that it’s tied to how much emphasis there is on our faith lives. Not politics, not committees, not events, not the budget.
But on how we are loved by God, and how we love God and our neighbor in return.
How well do you know the members of your church community?
How willing are you to share your relationship with God?
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We love our church. It’s a queer-positive, open-minded Baptist church. We have a lot of great intergenerational relationships. I’d really like us to go deeper though in our intimacy. I’m the adult spiritual formation person. People like to read books and talk about them on an intellectual level. I would like us to do activities that allow for vulnerable sharing. I’m not sure how to change the culture exactly. I have a lot more intimacy with other communities I’m a part of.
So interesting to me that our free range/part-time priest gets the essential understanding of the church that many of our full-time clergy don’t as they continue to do what we have always done and somehow expect different results. This is not the season for the status quo and it certainly isn’t the future of faith. Thanks