People Last

August 28, 2018

The Alma church where I started out closed a few years ago. A tiny congregation tucked in the confluence of two valleys in New York’s Southern Tier, they considered it their mission in this world to get young preachers started. They got this one started, and ever since, I’ve been grateful for their patience and grace. I’ve reviewed the sermons I preached and am continually amazed at how they put up with such wretched stuff. But we scoured the valley, visiting door to door, till we had nearly 30 kids with whom we started a youth group, and lo and behold, some of those kids got saved. Nearly fifty years later, we are in communication with some of them, spread out all over the country, faithfully serving Christ.

The mostly Scandinavian people we knew at the Emmaus church in Chicago are all gone now, but the church lives on in a new form as a primarily Hispanic congregation. Those we knew and served had the courage to enable the church to find a new identity matching the changing neighborhood.

The Alabama people scattered in a half dozen different directions when the bishop appointed a pastor everyone knew would be a disaster. Six months after we came to Sinclairville, this once promising congregation of primarily young adults had almost completely collapsed. Today it is a fragile shell of itself, but those young adults stayed faithful to Christ as they served in other congregations, some even pastoring locally and a thousand miles away.

Thirty-two years in Sinclairville—twenty years of growth followed by a near implosion from which we struggled back to health over the next ten years, till we were privileged to hand over a healthy growing congregation to the new pastor, who has continued to lead the church in growth. 

I’ve been around long enough to know that even a healthy congregation can fall on hard times, and success today is no guarantee of anything tomorrow. Through it all, I’ve learned a single ministry lesson: If I seek to build a ministry, I am building on shifting sand. If I choose to build people, they will last no matter what happens to the institution. Institutionally, I have a batting average of .500, better than some, worse than others. And even the two that are presently healthy might not be tomorrow. Even a small misstep could torpedo the entire enterprise. 

But the individuals in whom we invested our lives were transformed by the Gospel and those still living continue to live out their faith in Christ. It is a mistake to elevate the institution above the people in it. They will last; the institution will not. I am thankful tonight for the years that taught me this lesson, and for those who heard the Gospel, believed it, and allowed it to transform their lives. They are my joy and reward.