Yesterday a pastor friend posted an article about common factors in declining churches, and posed the question, "Then what?" I responded with some thoughts gleaned from my own experiences over 44 years of pastoral ministry. He messaged me with a somewhat detailed description of his situation, serving in a declining church that seems content to live off its endowments and building rental fees, without any serious engagement with its community. He seemed pretty frustrated and discouraged.
It's always dangerous to extrapolate from one's own experience to another's. There was a time when I would look at these tiny congregations sitting in the middle of huge population centers and wonder why they weren't growing. It certainly wasn't for lack of a mission field. I suppose there was more than a little pride involved, as I would think (and sometimes say out loud), "Anyone who can't grow a church there ought not be in the business." At the time, Park church was growing by leaps and bounds, its average attendance about a third of our community, at a time when our county's population was in decline. I was invited to lead seminars on church growth with seminary students, and was all too willing to share what I knew. Problem was, there was so much I didn't know, and I didn't know I didn't know it (think it through; it'll make sense).
Then the bottom dropped out of everything here. In the middle of the implosion, I was once more asked to lead a seminary class on church growth, but this time I wasn't sure what to say. I was in the process of digesting a huge portion of humble pie, and the taste it left in my mouth spoiled my appetite for pontificating. I began however, to learn a few things from my failures, which was a good thing. Failure is too important an experience to not learn from it.
Before we almost crashed and burned, I had learned an important component of church health and growth. There are many, but I came to believe that leadership consists of finding out where people want to go, and getting to the front of the line. It really is that simple. But it's not a matter of sticking one's finger in the air to see which way the wind is blowing. The problem people have is they don't know how to articulate the dreams and hopes they have. The Protestant movement was centered around the priesthood of all believers, which means among other things, that God
speaks to people about their deepest desires, hopes, and aspirations. But the average Christian doesn't know how to articulate it. Historically, the children of Israel groaned in slavery for 400 years. They knew they weren't happy, but didn't know what to do about it. Then along came Moses, whom God appointed as leader. He didn't show up and order people around according to his own vision. He listened to God, then he spoke to the people about what God had already put in their hearts, so when he spoke, they said, "Yes! That's it! I didn't know it till now, but that's it!"
It wasn't all sweetness and light. Moses also had to speak to the powers, and they took a whole lot of convincing. The leader not only must speak to the people, he must speak to the powers, the spiritual and demonic authorities that hold people captive. They don't give up easily. The only way Moses could face pharaoh was by continually being in the Presence of the God who was more powerful than he. Even then, it was quite a struggle, and Moses was tempted to quit, especially when things got tough and his own people were after his hide. Even after their deliverance, they wanted to go back to Egypt, which became the occasion for the most important leadership test Moses faced. No leader can succeed without paying the price. Moses was willing to be blotted out of God's book of life for the sake of his people. Too many pastors are more concerned with their own safety, security, well-being than with the often recalcitrant people God has sent them to serve. Until the leader is ready to lay down his life for those to whom God has sent him, success and growth will be only a dream.
It's tough work, and not everyone has the stomach for it. Even Moses wanted to give up, but he had been chosen for the job, and what do you say to God when he points his finger in your face and says, "You're the man (or woman)!?" I'm far from being the most talented and engaging preacher. I'm too introverted to be as good at evangelism as I should be. I never mastered the art of networking or administration. The one quality I have is bulldoggedness. I don't know how to give up. And when trouble came knocking, I knocked back.
I wish I had answers for my pastor friend. I suppose there are times and circumstances when a leader just has to face reality and bury what died years ago but didn't have sense enough to lie down. I know that years ago, I made the decision that as long as Park people wanted to grow, I would do my best to help them do it. What I never told them was, if I ever sensed that they were content where they were, I would be out of there in the blink of an eye. I had no desire to pastor people who didn't want to push the boundaries and be better than they were before. God blessed me with a congregation willing to squint into the future and stick a toe into the waters. And he graciously allowed me to weather the storms and after much blood, sweat, and tears, to hand off a healthy, growing congregation to my successor. I am grateful for what I learned along the way, and for the people who were patient enough to go along with my often hair brained ideas, enduring failure after failure in order to savor the sweet taste of victory in the end. Not everyone stuck it out, but they were the losers, while those who refused to let go of the dream are now seeing blessing beyond imagination. To God be the glory! His mercy and grace have proven themselves sufficient for even a pastoral pygmy like myself.
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