CONCENTRATING ON WHAT A RURAL CHURCH CAN DO

Steven King

I grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota, as a typical suburban boy in what was a very large Lutheran congregation (at the time). One might say it was a “successful” congregation that had served as an anchor of faith in that part of town. My confirmation class had 50+ students in each grade level, bringing together youth from many different school districts. There was very little overlap between the kids I knew from church and those I knew from school. Truth be told, I can’t say that I knew many fellow congregation members at all – whether adults or other youth.

Flash-forward to my time in seminary when I was assigned to serve my internship in the city of Milwaukee. I remember at the time wondering if I was going to like being part of such a “small” congregation, being so different from the congregation I grew up in. I did not know at the time that comparatively speaking, my internship church was still a fairly large congregation, with multiple paid staff members.

As I drew near to graduation, I was fortunate to have my home congregation in St. Paul interested in calling me as an associate pastor. Everything was lined up for graduation and ordination. Then one day, I was talking to a seminary friend on the phone when he happened to mention that he had been up at the administrative office. He said, “I see you changed your mind.” Little did I know that the synodical assignments had just been posted, and I had been assigned to the rural Southwestern Minnesota Synod. My subsequent call to a two-point open country rural parish was my first experience in small church ministry.

My wife and I, along with our newborn baby, moved into a church-owned parsonage in a town of seventy people, which was little more than a grain elevator surrounded by two streets of homes and a small church. The bigger of the two churches I served was in the middle of a cornfield, accessed by a thin gravel road (“turn where the old schoolhouse used to be”).

A large part of my introduction to rural church ministry was the culture shock we experienced moving to an environment very different from what we knew, where the distance between places always seemed five to ten times farther than it ought to be. I look back now and smile at some of the humorous moments and misunderstandings I encountered as a “fish-out-of-water.” These stories could fill a whole essay in themselves. But more to the point, I learned very quickly how small church ministry was different from anything I had known before.

I look back now and smile at some of the humorous moments and misunderstandings I encountered as a “fish-out-of-water.”

A Dejection in Morale

On a pastoral level, one of the first things I noticed within the congregation and community was what I would describe as a pervasive lack of morale. The Farm Crisis of the 1980’s had taken its toll on many agricultural communities.1 Many formerly family-owned and -operated homestead properties had been bought up by large companies in the years prior, not only leaving many without an inheritance to pass on to their children, but also forcing the next generation to move to the cities to find work. By the time I arrived, nearly every family had lost most of their young people, with little hope for their return. There was a general lack of hope and optimism, which often expressed itself in a sense of personal failure – even though the prevailing circumstances had been totally beyond their control.

This carried over to the church as well. It was very hard to talk about the present life of the congregation without reference to “the way things used to be.” It was as if people held two contradicting opinions at the same time: they would simultaneously deny what had been lost, and yet still cling to the false hope of restoring what no longer existed. In doing so, many members often overlooked what the ministry was (and could be) in the present, resigned only to a future of decline.

This situation required an intentional application of pastoral care. As much as I wanted to move forward and set myself to the many tasks of ministry I hoped to accomplish, I had to bear in mind that people had been through a time of trauma (no less than what would be caused by the destruction of a tornado or the diagnosis of a terminal illness). It called for much listening to personal stories of pain, and for a divine Word of promise that was greater than the struggles of circumstance and the hopelessness of a clearly fallen world. That had to be the premise I started with, and had compassion for, even though my natural inclination was to prove myself, since “being a successful pastor” occupied most of my thoughts.

Sometimes, for me, this was a simple matter of learning to stop and look up from the computer when someone stopped by the office or called on the phone. I confess with some shame that it was hard for me deal with such “interruptions” when I was in the middle of trying to do my pastor’s job. Didn’t these people know I had work to do?

The truth was, I had set quite the agenda for myself. I had come through the door running, with a schedule of multiple Bible studies, weekly preaching, monthly visitation of all homebound members, restarting and leading a youth group, teaching confirmation, and putting things back into order that had gone by the wayside. I was applying all I knew about church growth and intentional discipleship.

The truth was that I, too, had quickly become enraptured by the idea of bringing back “the way things used to be.” My former experience in large Program Churches was the goal I tried to recreate, and I focused much of my time making that happen. I did things in the parish that had not been done in years; I developed and organized new programs that were endorsed by the most recent articles on effective ministry. And I can say that the wave of activity I brought to my pastoral role did have many positive results. But looking back, I now sometimes wonder if those results were more for my own benefit than anything else, to show that we could be just as successful as those big city congregations.

But looking back, I now sometimes wonder if those results were more for my own benefit than anything else, to show that we could be just as successful as those big city congregations.

It took me some time to understand and see the people as the ministry to which I had been called, not the programs and activities, not the growth in numbers for numbers sake, not just counting heads but engaging with people’s lives. That revelation did eventually come, but I wish I had learned that sooner in my career. I see things a little differently now.

Discipleship in Practice

In recent years, seeing the emphasis in the broader Church on discipleship and renewal in congregations, I have somewhat of a mixed reaction. I’ve always had a passion for evangelism and church growth. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of being involved on a number of occasions in church planting and development and had the honor of leading a small-town mission congregation from its humble beginnings to becoming an active and thriving congregation. I have also emphasized teaching ministry and developing strong educational programs in the churches I’ve served. In many ways, these are at the heart of what I believe discipleship is all about.

But sometimes, in contemporary conversations, too often I feel like what is promoted is often programs for programs’ sake. We work in order to say that we’ve done it; we’ve put in the effort to be successful Christians or successful congregations – as if that itself is our goal and purpose. When it comes to discipleship and renewal in small or rural churches, sometimes I wonder if we are really asking: “How do we make small churches operate like big churches?” Or perhaps, “How do we make rural, country churches more like those growing churches in the suburbs?”

With a strong desire to promote discipleship training among our own churches in recent years, I found it odd that my denomination’s discipleship team was made up almost entirely of leaders from the largest congregations (their congregations are big, so they must know what they’re doing). But for some reason, the same discipleship program did not seem to function as well in the small or rural churches that needed it the most (which are 90% of our congregations as a whole).

I can’t help but wonder if we are trying to put square pegs into round holes, because we are simply more impressed by squares, and do not truly appreciate what it is like to be round. Perhaps it is just a “bigger is better” mentality, or the illusion that more activity means more importance -- or more value -- in a spiritual sense. Maybe we have been led to believe that serious discipleship is about creating busy church members, obediently carrying out their assigned ministry tasks.

As a pastor who now, in addition to my full-time job, currently preaches on a week-by-week basis to a congregation of less than ten people in worship, I see many of the same false expectations and illusions that I saw early in my career. I see people with good and faithful hearts, longing for what once was and never will be again. I see people given a false expectation of what they should be, or what they could be if they just worked a little harder. I see people who wonder whether they would be more successful if they changed the name on the sign from “Lutheran” to “Community” Church -- like all the other churches in the area. They wonder maybe if we “hired a band” to play on Sunday mornings, people would start flocking into the church (after all, something like that happened in the movie “Sister Act”).

I see people who wonder whether they would be more successful if they changed the name on the sign from “Lutheran” to “Community” Church.

I acknowledge that there are certainly places where changes to “business as usual” could serve a good purpose in a congregation and work to great effect. These initiatives can encourage and inspire people to grow in the way they participate in their church and spread the love of Christ in their communities. But I believe that genuine faith cannot be measured in the way that the things of this world are measured. I believe that on judgement day, the blessed will be surprised by the impact of those humble moments of ministry that did not seem impressive to others. They will ask, “Lord, when did we …”2 and He will answer, “You did it for me.”

The Blessing of Simplicity and the Wisdom of Age

Having served the church in rural areas my whole career, among many small and multiple-point congregations (with most of my colleagues serving in similar circumstances), I have come to have a great respect for small town and country churches, and for the people that are a part of them. I have seen great faith among those who seem to others to be small and weak, insignificant or backward, those who are dismissed by the allegedly more successful.

As a “voting member” at several former churchwide conventions, I’ve witnessed the difference between the general theology and piety of those from predominately rural synods as opposed to those in urban and suburban settings. I have been especially impressed that it was often the down-to-earth laity from farming communities who fought for biblical and confessional integrity, in spite of pressure from their pastors and bishops to do otherwise. Indeed, I am grateful for where God led me, and for the people I’ve served among in ministry.

Perhaps some might say I have developed a new bias over the years on behalf of small rural churches, very different from what I had when I first entered ministry. Perhaps that makes me partial; I’m sure God will be the judge of that. However, I know where my heart is.

Not knowing what others may write for this issue on the topic of ministry in Small and Rural Churches, I am confident that other authors will have much better and more practical advice than I can give at this point in my ministry. But I wanted to raise at least a word of caution. It is easy to look for the silver bullet that will turn things around for congregations that appear to be insignificant or ineffective. But I have found that much of what passes for discipleship is idolatry, worshiping at the feet of what the world considers successful ministry.

With the limitations faced by many congregations, which they themselves often inaccurately perceive as “failure,” I pray that small congregations would not fall victim to unrealistic pressures and expectations to be something they are not. I hope we can avoid the temptation to measure “success” according to numbers and activity, seemingly for its own sake, at the expense of ministry to people as they are. My hope for the Church is that activity and programs aren’t just an easy substitute for depth of faith.

I have been especially impressed that it was often the down-to earth laity from farming communities who fought for biblical and confessional integrity, in spite of pressure from their pastors and bishops to do otherwise.

Expectations vs. Experience

So what would I recommend, especially for the small churches? What would I say to the older churches that are simply not what they once were, and probably will never be? What about the churches in areas where the surrounding population is not increasing? What can we say to congregations that do not seem attractive to the modern church-shopping audience?

First of all, I would say, “Value the people you already have; value the people that are there.” Recognize who they are and get to know them. Be ready to minister to those who come to you, instead of evaluating people based on activity or current membership status. If you are the pastor, be organized with names and contact information, and try to learn who people are. Visit them in their homes and encouraged them to visit their fellow church members as well. Dust off that old membership list or go through the trouble to painstakingly recreate one yourself from random sources hidden in file cabinets.

In the church I currently serve, I had one request when I agreed to serve as their indefinitely-available-weekly-supplypastor. I asked that they would provide me with a contact list of all the people connected to the congregation, either presently or in the past. I never received one. So, like Gandalf in the bowels of the record-chamber of Minas Tirith, I had to compile my own list from ancient manuscripts.

This often meant talking to the people who know the other people. The stereotype of small communities is that everyone knows everybody else. Whether or not that may be true, try to find that one person who’s in everyone else’s business - you know who I’m talking about - the one who has the local police scanner turned on 24/7 -- and then ask that person about what’s happening with people in the community.

Draw upon the many overlapping networks of relatives and neighbors. Find out those who used to be connected with the church but are no longer -- remembering the fact that there are reasons why people are no longer connected, and that these people may no longer get along with the people who are connected.

Treat inactive members as real members. If they don’t come to church, go to them. Do this not to get something out of them, as if you might magically transform them into active church members, but with the attitude that you are called by God to minister to them. Meet people in their needs.

Treat inactive members as real members. If they don’t come to church, go to them.

The Importance of Funerals

In small communities, especially those with older people, funerals and burials are an important but often underestimated ministry of the church. I realize that pastors have differing views in such matters, but I have always tried to make myself available to preside at member and non-member funerals alike. I am well aware of the burden and time constraints this requires, and local circumstances will differ, but many some cases I have found that this was the only way that I was able to make a connection with people outside the congregation. It is an evangelism opportunity – not necessarily for adding members to the roster of the church, but for reaching out with the promise of Christ.

But in one of my parishes, I found out that making the church available for funerals wasn’t going to be easy. This is because people were routinely denied burial in the church cemetery based on the Cemetery Committee’s strict observance of membership requirements spelled out in the church constitution.3 (I found this strange given that, as pastor, I was provided with neither a membership list nor a copy of the church constitution.) Again, I acknowledge that local conditions differ and that congregations have different policies in such matters. However, in terms of evangelism and discipleship, I could see that funerals were one way our small congregation could minister in the present to inactive and former members from the past. That little congregation might not be able to have a large youth group or a praise band, but they were able to care for people in grief. And that is a ministry we all can do.

Much of this encouragement I address regularly in preaching and teaching, as relevant Scripture texts present themselves. Instead of talking about what our congregation used to do, I strive to lean on God’s promise of what we can do. I will admit, in the years I have served my current congregation, I have instituted no new programs; I have created no new committees or groups. To some that may look like I have little interest in discipleship or faith renewal.

But we do worship regularly, regardless of how many or how few show up. I often preach on topics submitted to me directly by people of the congregation (letting them know in advance when their question will be addressed). I have led online Bible studies, which are not only open to the public, but have included a full half of my congregation on a weekly basis! (Don’t be impressed, you can count that many on your fingers.)

I believe in focusing on the people of the congregation and what they can do, rather than what they used to do in the past, or what the measure of worldly success suggests they ought to do to ensure their future.

To put it more succinctly, I believe the key to small church ministry and renewal is a genuine focus on Word and Sacrament ministry,4 rather than on programs and special emphases -- even those labelled with the term “discipleship.” I believe in focusing on the people of the congregation and what they can do, rather than what they used to do in the past, or what the measure of worldly success suggests they ought to do to ensure their future. I want us to be the candle that burns brightly, even if there is not much wax left in the candle holder.

The truth is, among the few that still gather here from week to week, I have seen people who have clearly grown in their faith in the time I have known them. I have seen people who have responded to God’s Word and have expressed a deeper understanding of who Christ is and what he has done for them. I have seen people look differently at their neighbors and those outside the church than they once did. I have seen these same few people embrace with love and care those whom we were told did not deserve it. To me, that is genuine discipleship. That is renewal.

The Rev. Dr. Steven E. King is the managing editor of Sola Publishing.

Endnotes:

1Iowa Public Television: “1980s Farm Crisis,” 26 Mar 2017, http://site.iptv.org/mtom/classroom/module/13999/farm-crisis.

2Matthew 25:37-39

3Minimum requirements for membership often include attendance, giving, and participation in the sacraments to determine voting rights, etc. But these are not restrictions on those to whom a congregation is allowed to minister. Note: NALC Model Constitution, Section 8.05 e. “removal from the roll due to inactivity as defined in the bylaws. Such persons who have been removed from the roll of members shall remain persons for whom the Church has a continuing pastoral concern.”

4Augsburg Confession, Article V.