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As a boy growing up on the prairies of North Dakota, I used to look through encyclopedias and geography books for any mention of my state. Under the headings of other states and countries I'd see breathtaking pictures of snow-capped mountains, city skylines, and oceans. Under North Dakota, by contrast, I'd find a very short article and photos of wheat fields, cows, and grain elevators—all things I could see out my classroom window. They just didn't compare to Disneyland, Mount Rushmore, Old Faithful, the Empire State Building, or the Golden Gate Bridge.

Many people belonging to small churches feel the same way about the significance of their congregations. They wonder if anyone realizes that the heart of God is still beating in thousands of little congregations in every city, suburb, village, and county in our nation. Does anyone even know they exist?

As I read through clergy journals or review new education programs that tumble down from the denominational and parachurch hierarchy, I find good reason for this self-doubting. Even though most churches are small—roughly half of all churches have fewer than 200 members, and about two-thirds have fewer than 300—most church resources are designed for the bigger churches. Journals for pastors present rich resources to help the youth minister run a jet-hot program. But most churches don't have a youth pastor—or even a skillful, trustworthy, highly motivated layperson. There are articles on how to set up committees for music and worship and how to divide your church into small groups. But many congregations are small groups.

Large Protestant congregations are a relatively recent phenomenon in North America. At the time of the Civil War, the average congregation was 100 members. By the turn of the century, it had risen to 150. A few large downtown "first churches" excepted, the model for church life was a small congregation served by one full-time "generalist" pastor.

But the startling success of some congregations in rapidly swelling suburbs after World War II led to a new model of the congregation: a top-managed organization with abundant financial resources led not by a generalist but by a team of specialists. Such congregations are modeled on the corporate world and are run by standards of "organizational efficiency." From the denominational headquarters on down, the accepted fact is that good churches are big churches, and the kinds of pastoral positions these churches provide are the standard of professional success. As a result, small churches have nearly disappeared from the serious planning agenda of most denominational offices—and for good reason: small churches are less likely to possess the people, the means, or the will to respond to a slate of programs.

Similarly, even though small-church ministry is strikingly different from large-church ministry, there are few denominations that recognize a track for small-church specialists. If, as they are perhaps subconsciously viewed, small churches are merely failed big churches, small-church pastors are thought of (and too often think of themselves) as those who weren't skillful enough to have been promoted.

But small churches are not miniature versions of larger congregations. They are psychologically and socially different, and those differences require their own approach to ministry. In a world of social change and mobility, they provide two strengths that are lacking in many of the "successful" churches: stability and continuity of relationships.

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February 8 1999, Vol. 43, No. 2